As Hunter and I walk to work, I can't stop thinking about the way we woke up this morning, him spooning me in my bed, his hardness straining against me through the thin layers of fabric. When I invited him to sleep in my bed, it was only thanks to liquid courage and a burning desire to repeat what happened in the kitchen earlier that afternoon. But waking up that way felt intimate, way more intimate, than I'd expected.

The problem is, I want to do it again.

And even though I felt like the unsexiest little girl when I had to ask him to go on a tampon run for me, he was a perfect gentleman about it. Well, as much as he's capable of.

Summer's in full swing now, and the damp morning heat pervades everything. My clothes cling to my damp skin, my hair frizzes, and my underarms feel swampy and horrible. It's okay in the shade, but whenever we step into the sun, I start to bake.

As we turn the corner onto Main Street where the strip mall is located, we run into Eddie and his wife, also heading toward the strip mall where their restaurant is. Hunter slips an arm around my waist, hooking his thumb into one of my belt loops. We've nearly perfected the art of pretending. We must have, because no one in the town has suspected a damn thing. The only person who really knows, Meg, has managed to keep her mouth shut for once. But now it feels way more than pretend. Every time we hold hands in public, it feels more natural than the last. Sometimes it feels just like it did in high school.

"Another day in paradise," says Hunter, tipping his head at Eddie. I expect Eddie to come back with one of his usual retorts, but the look on his face tells me something's wrong.

"Hunt, man, Tess, you gotta come take a look at this. Been circling the block looking for you."

Hunter's hand drops from my waist, and he doesn't even brush his hand against my ass like he normally does. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Come see for yourself."

We follow Eddie around the corner and head straight for the strip mall. When we turn the corner, I immediately see something's wrong. Jason stands outside on the sidewalk, along with a few of our regular morning customers. But this time, there's a big pink notice plastered right in the middle of the front door. My stomach churns acid. I knew something like this was going to happen. Everything was going so well. Too well.

"What's all this?" I ask as we approach the patio outside the café. "What's going on?"

"It was like this when I got here," says Jason, shaking his head. "Read it."

I slip through the small crowd of customers and read the sign:

Rainbow Café

CLOSED By order of the Maple Ridge City Health Department

This food facility has been ordered to temporarily close until the violations listed below are corrected. This notice must remain in place throughout the period of closure. It may only be removed by authority of the health department after confirmation that the violations have been corrected.

- Failure to sanitize surfaces (flour dust on floor)

"Flour dust on floor?" says Hunter. "What in the actual fuck does that mean? It's a damn bagel joint!"

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. "The inspector came by two days ago," I say. "It was all routine He didn't say anything about this."

"Excuse me," says a man standing behind me, "Does this mean you won't be opening today?"

"Of course it fucking—" says Hunter, before I elbow him in the side to shut him up.

"Unfortunately it does," I say. "We'll have to clear this up with city officials. With any luck we'll be back tomorrow."

The customers, all of our early birds, look disappointed. A few of them shuffle off to the old Sunrise Café, which is just opening its doors down the street. Some others get in their cars parked along the street and take off. Only Hunter, Jason, Eddie, his wife, and I remain.

"This doesn't make any sense," I say, standing in front of the door. I read the sign over and over again.

"It makes zero damn sense," says Hunter, next to me. "What do they fucking expect, for us to sweep the floor every fifteen minutes? Some fucking flour dust on the floor isn't a fucking health threat to anyone." He turns to Jason. "What the hell do you make of this, kid?"

Jason shakes his head. "You're right. It doesn't make a lick of sense."

I can always tell when Hunter is actually mad, because that's when he stops insulting other people.

Just then, Oscar comes out of the pawn shop a few doors down and approaches us.

"Damn man," says Eddie. "You know anything about this?"

Oscar nods his head yes. "Bet you a hundred damn dollars I do."

"Well then, spit it out."

"It's that damn old man Wilkinson."

"The mayor?" says Hunter.

"Damn right."

"But why would he hassle me?" I say.

Oscar shakes his head. "Hell if I know. Same reason the city's always revoking my pawn license. The old man's got grudges and nothing better to do than carry them out all day." I remember what he told us at the potluck, that he keeps being falsely accused of buying and selling stolen tools. "Did you do something to piss him off?"

"Not that I know of," I say.

"Alright," says Hunter, clenching his fists. "Show's over. We'll deal with this." He storms back into the street, back toward my apartment, and I follow after him. I glance over my shoulder as I scurry after him, and see Jason and the others file away from the restaurant dejectedly.

* * *

Hunter paces back and forth in my living room. "I'm going to have a talk with that fuck," he says, clenching and unclenching his fists. I can't remember seeing him like this before. I sit on the coffee table with my hands between my knees. Hunter may live for confrontation, but I don't like it.

"Let's just call the health inspector's office and do this the right way," I say. "It's not worth getting upset over."

"The hell it isn't," says Hunter, whirling to face me. "He's fucking with my friend, and now he's fucking with my wife."

"Your fake wife."

"I don't care. For all he knows, you're my real wife. Probably has a copy of the fucking marriage certificate on his desk right now. So it's personal."

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

Hunter shakes his head. "I dealt with fucks like this in the SEALs. They literally have nothing better to do than sit on their fat asses and fuck with people. You have to deal with these assholes with strength. It's all they understand."

"What are you talking about, Hunter? This is politics, not war."

"Same thing."

"I want to deal with this my way."

"Just let me take care of this."

"This isn't like you," I say. "Since when do you blow up?"

"I'm not blowing up," he says, slowing his pacing. "I'm pissed because he made this personal by fucking with you."

"I'm flattered, but I can solve my own problems, Hunter. It's my shop."

His eyes narrow. "Yeah, it's not like I put a shit ton of effort into this business too."

"It was as a friend. A favor. We talked about this." Usually I'm the one getting mad and Hunter calms me down, but right now he's really mad.

"I'm not asking for a stake in the profits. But don't deny me a stake in the decision making. I'm dealing with this guy the way I know how."

"Hunter," I say. "You're leaving. Just let it go."

"Yeah, well, I'm here now."

"And what does that mean?" I say, standing up. Now I'm getting emotional too. "What is this? What is this situation we're in?"

"Well that's crystal clear."

"Is it?"

"You're my fake bride."

"With benefits, apparently."

"With benefits."

"Hunter," I say, and I start feeling more emotional than I want to feel. "This feels like it's turning into more than we bargained for."

"I didn't bargain for anything."

"Don't you know that you hurt me when you left last time?"

He stops pacing again and glares at me. "Bringing up eight years ago again? Seriously?"

"I'm afraid of getting hurt again."

"I told you," he says, "I'm leaving." He exaggerates the word and it hurts my feelings how he says it.

I stand up and my fists clench too. "Hunter, you just came back into my life when I was vulnerable, and now things are complicated, and—"

"Things are not complicated," he says. But the way he says it, he might as well have just said "things are complicated."

"What do you feel for me?" I ask. My heart pounds as I say the words, and I'm not sure what I want his response to be.

But he changes the topic. "Look, we've just got to deal with this as swiftly and effectively as possible. I'm going."

"Don't," I say forcefully. "If this is really a personal grudge of the mayor's, you'll only make it worse."

"Goddamnit. I'm getting some fresh air."

I watch silently as he storms out of the apartment.

I sit back on the couch and pull a throw over myself even though I'm not cold. I can't stop thinking about our conversation. I was starting to get attached to some stupid, false hope that Hunter was starting to see me as important again. I was starting to hope he'd be decide to stay, and that maybe I'd have some kind of fairytale romance that ends with me getting the guy I wanted ever since high school.

But instead, I think this is going to end in heartbreak for me. Just like the last time. And maybe my restaurant is going down in flames, too.