WREN

“THANK YOU, Mr. Beatty. I’ll see you and Cyril next week.” I waved the older gentleman off, his twelve-year-old beagle hustling beside him. I turned about to go back into the shop when I noticed the town car parked at the curb out in front of my shop. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.

I shouldn’t be excited about seeing Bane again. I’d planned on turning his offer down, even though Saturday night had been the most mind-blowing sexual experience of my life. I was going to talk to the bank this afternoon about that loan, to get Hawk the money he needed, then concentrate on working my ass off...