Dirty Talking Rival

by Pippa Grant

now. It was good for business. I won’t apologize for that last one. Not when the Duh-Nuts parking lot is packed. Running a profitable business has to be taking one more worry off her plate. But the biggest excuse I have for keeping us a secret is one that I didn’t want to face. That fear that she’d break me all over again. If we stayed a secret, then it would hurt less when we were through, because fewer people would know. That’s the line I fed myself. And it was bullshit. The only thing keeping me from hurting right now is sheer determination to prove to her that she’s worth fighting for, and that I’ll never stop fighting so long as I have a sliver of hope that she still wants me back. I know Annika. Once she’s put her mind to something, she’s all in. She’s decided she’s done with me. It’s my job to change that, and I swear to fuck, I won’t stop until I’m convinced she’s not doing this out of the same fear I have. That I’ll leave. I park around the corner in front of the Sunny Day Funeral Home—nicely played, Sarcasm—because it’s the first place I can find a parking spot. The sidewalks are empty since everyone’s already at Duh-Nuts. Celebrating their victory on the morning show. The bells jingle when I pull the door open, and realization that the enemy is in their midst gradually filters through the dining room, which is packed past capacity with people drinking coffee and eating breakfast egg waffles and chocolate-glazed donuts. Amy looks up from the cash register and gri...