Page 199 of Faking the Goal

"That's exactly the point."

I grab my jacket and head toward the door while they keep laughing behind me. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Tell Taylor we miss you!" Luke calls after me.

I shake my head and keep walking. "Fuck off."

Almost an hour later, I pull into the parking lot outside Sakura Cafe and spot Taylor through the front windows before I even turn off the engine. She's standing near the counter talking to Connie, one hand resting on the handle of a small book cart loaded with manga and a few other books. Whatever Connie says makes her laugh, and a few seconds later, she pushes the cart away from the counter and disappears farther into the café, probably to return everything to the shelves.

A smile pulls at my mouth as I watch her go.

She's adapted to working here better than I expected. Not that I ever doubted she could handle the job, but she seems to genuinely enjoy it. Most of what she does is inventory—sorting through new deliveries, keeping track of what comes in, organizing the shelves, replacing books that customers leave scattered around, and making room whenever another shipment arrives.

She talks about the books that come in, tells me when they get a new volume of something she's been reading. More importantly, since she started working here, she hasn't mentioned going back to Velvet Lounge once.

Technically, she's still on indefinite leave, and selfishly, I hope it stays that way.

It has nothing to do with me thinking the work is beneath her. I know why she took that job, and I'd never judge her for doing what she needed to do to support herself.

But things are different now because of her stalker.

The second that asshole managed to leave that fucking box inside her locker, the club stopped being just another place she worked and became somewhere he'd already proven he could get to her. I don't know how he got back there or how close he's managed to get without anyone noticing, and that's exactly what bothers me. With the way his behavior keeps escalating, there's no telling what he'll try next.

Maybe nothing would happen if she went back. Maybe the bastard would never get close enough to do more than leave another sick message or package. But when it comes to her, maybe isn't a risk I'm willing to take.

I know it isn't my decision. Taylor can work wherever the hell she wants, and if she decides to go back, I'll have to respect that. But I can still hope she doesn't.

Especially when she seems so damn happy here.

I climb out of the truck and head inside, automatically searching for her as soon as I walk through the door. I don't see her near the front, so I wander deeper between the tall rows of shelves until I finally find her tucked away near the back, crouched in front of the bottom shelf with an open manga in her hands.

I stop before she notices me.

She's supposed to be shelving books, but apparently one of them has distracted her because she's reading it instead, completely oblivious to everything around her. A quiet giggle slips out of her as she turns the page, and I lean my shoulder against the end of the shelf, crossing one ankle over the other as I watch her.

I should probably tell her I'm here.

Instead, I stay exactly where I am.

I like seeing her like this.

There's no tension in her shoulders, no nervous glance toward the door whenever someone walks into the café, no fear hiding behind whatever smart-ass comment she uses to convince everyone she's fine. She's just Taylor, crouched on the floor with a book in her hands and a smile on her face, completely lost in one of those sappy love stories she can never seem to get enough of.

And fuck, I could stand here watching her like this all night.

Eventually, she giggles again, and I can't help myself.

"Working hard, I see."

Taylor looks up from the book, and instead of looking remotely guilty about being caught reading on the job, she smiles at me. "Oh, hi, Ken-chan. How was practice?"

"Practice was good." I walk over and crouch beside her before giving up on that altogether and sitting on the floor, leaning my back against the shelf. "You? How's work?"

"Very productive." She lifts the open manga slightly as if presenting evidence of said productivity.

I chuckle. "I can see that."

"Hey, I've been working. This is a well-earned five-minute break."