Shortcake
A small smile tugged at her mouth.
“Okay,” Freddy said, already bouncing to her feet. “I’m gonna go for my jog, and if you help me tackle this disaster when I get back, I’ll show you all the good places to go. You know—the ones that don’t card.”
Gemma reached for her phone, then pointed toward the desk. “I’ll help if you bring back a mocha latte. There’s money right there.”
Freddy plucked the ten‑dollar bill off the desk and held it up. “Awfully trusting, aren’t you? Just handing me cash.”
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