“Well, then, not a chance.”

“Right.” Out of sheer desperation, Summer approached Diana and Madeline. They were planning to go to some college party, and though they were actually pleasant—and Diana gave Summer a glowing horoscope for once—they didn’t invite her to come along as they vanished out the door smelling like forbidden cigarettes and trouble waiting to happen.

With no customers left, Chloe was chomping at the bit to go home and get ready for her hot date with Braden, so Summer gave up and shooed her off as well. As she did, Stella came through from the back with her purse. “I don’t see why you won’t let Gregg and me close up for you on your last night in town,” she said to Summer.

“That’s okay.” If she left now, her big evening alone would start even earlier. “I’ve got it covered.”

“All right. Gregg!” she yelled down the stairs to the employee break room. “He’s so particular about the routine,” she said to Summer. “He likes to make sure everything is closed up just right. You should have seen him when we had our own store.”

“You had a store?”

“Oh, yes. And it was beautiful,” Stella said with soft pride. “But then we—”

“You’re not boring Summer with our life story, are you, Stel?” Gregg asked as he came into the room. He hooked an arm around his wife and hugged her, then smiled at Summer. “See ya on the next trip home, Cookie. A couple of years maybe?”

“Not so long this time.”

“Okay.”

“Really, it won’t be.” She managed to keep her smile in place until they left. Alone now, she sighed, then flipped the CLOSED sign on the door, moving through the store, turning off lights, straightening up things here and there. She had the radio on and was humming to Coldplay, thinking she should probably put on something more upbeat than the beautiful, lyrical songs that made her ache, when from behind her, a door creaked. Whipping around with a surprised gasp, Summer watched as the small bathroom door just behind the counter slowly opened. With a hand on her racing heart, she stared at Braden. “I thought you were already gone.”

“I am.” Dressed in his usual black from sleek stud in his ear to his ass-kicking boots, he walked toward the front door.

“What were you doing in there?”

He shot her a bland look over his shoulder.

“Right.” But her heart still hadn’t slowed. “You going out with Chloe tonight?”

He sent her another baleful glance.

“Let me guess. None of my business.”

“You’re quick.” He reached for the door.

“It’s just that I’m sort of fond of the spoiled brat,” she said. “So be kind, okay?”