JUNIPER’S POV:
Seeing Larry walk into the store causes my heart to drop for a split second before irritation quickly replaces it as he smiles at me. My hands leave the saucer, which I have initially picked from a table, and I stand straight. Slowly, my brows wrinkle, and I cross my arms.
“This is closing hours, Larry. Sally isn’t around,” I say to him, but he chuckles, walking up to me. The smell hits me hard—a rancid stench of smoke that seems to cling to his skin, and I involuntarily take a deep breath, trying to hold back my disgust.
Larry is a creep in his early thirties who knows my mother, and ever since my dad died and we went broke, he has vowed that he would be the one to marry me. Cillian has beaten him up once or twice, but it never seems to deter him.
He ignores my words an
