Real Vintage Maverick. Marie Ferrarella

the bell over the doorway went off, splintering the moment. Breaking the mood.

      Announcing the presence of another person entering their private space.

      Acute discomfort, laced through with a prickly dose of guilt, had Cody taking a step back away from his intended target before he looked in the direction of the offending doorway.

      “I thought you said you were closed,” he said to Catherine, his tone dark.

      It almost sounded like an accusation, Catherine thought, even as she tried to figure out exactly what had just happened here—and what hadn’t happened.

      “I am,” she finally answered, the words emerging from her lips in slow, confused motion.