ANGIE PETERSON RAN a damp, soapy rag over the countertop and glanced at the clock above her head for the umpteenth time. The shop had been non-stop busy since six o’clock that morning and she hadn’t had so much as a pee break since she’d walked through the door.
The customer queue had dwindled finally to the point where she thought it might be safe to leave the counter to the two teens who helped her out in the afternoons for a five minute potty break. But before she could escape, the door opened and two more customers sauntered in.
Stifling a sigh, Angie plastered on a bright smile as they approached the counter. “Welcome to the Dunk and Run, what can I get for you today?”
The taller of the two men gave her an oily grin and winked. He pushed a gray, felt cowboy hat off his forehead and
