Myra
The bell didn't ring for twenty minutes after the "Miller Incident," but my ears were still ringing from the sound of his body hitting the slushy pavement.
I hated that Tony had done it. I hated that he’d made a scene, confirming every "thug" stereotype the town had for him. But mostly, I hated the way my skin had felt when he stepped behind the counter—the sheer, radiating heat of a man who was willing to ruin his reputation to protect mine. I felt a confusing, jagged cocktail of fury and a warmth that had nothing to do with the ovens.
"The office is a mess," I said, my voice sounding tight even to my own ears. I didn't look at him as I wiped down the espresso machine for the tenth time. "If you’re serious about this website, you’re going to have to clear off the desk. I can’t bui
