If Zen’s here and the car is not, I assume Mr. Mood Swing is also absent.
“Morning,” they say, sliding a glance at Jitter. “Can you work the counter today?”
“I’d love to, but I can’t,” I chirp happily while I steer Jitter to his house, and honestly, I’m annoying myself here. I hate being fake happy. “I have this gossip problem that I’m trying to give up to make me a better employee, and if I work up front, people will tell me things, and then I’ll repeat them, and it’ll cause the equivalent of an international crisis here in the Tooth. But I have a little welcome to Snaggletooth Creek present for the boss-man. He around?”
There’s a long, suspicious pause before an even longer, more suspicious, “No.”
“It’s actually from Jitter. He feels terrible for being too forward about making friends and drooling all over Mr. Cartwright’s coat last night. Can I leave this on the desk for him?” I hold up a small stuffed pillow with Jitter’s face on it—thank you, Laney—that I’ve attached a dry-cleaning gift certificate to with a red bow.
And I thought their first suspicious pause was long.
Rightfully so.
We both know it wasn’t my or Jitter’s fault that the man tumbled head over teacups in the parking lot last night. We probably both know this is a bribe attempt to get back on his good side too. And we both know I either had to pull some massive strings to get a present this perfect put together overnight, or that I randomly keep apology gifts on hand.
It’s the latter. Though sometimes it’s just a good deed gift.
Either way, I suspect Zen’s thinking this isn’t a very good gift at all, considering the man lost his dog to his ex-wife.
I’d be pretty upset if someone took Jitter from me at the end of a relationship, and I don’t know if I’d want reminders that other people have their adorable pets still.
“Sure,” Zen finally says, shooting another look at my dog that I interpret to mean I can’t wait until she’s not watching so I can love all over you because you’re adorable and perfect.
I smile so hard my cheeks and my eyeballs hurt. “Fantastic. Thank you! Are you a breakfast person? Anything you’d like me to whip up for you today?”
They squint at me, but instead of questioning me, they shake their head, politely decline food, and go back out front where I can hear Cedar and Willa helping customers.
Such a weird spot to be in.
I know Grey wants to destroy this place. I suspect something happened between him and Chandler, but Zen doesn’t trust me enough yet for me to tease details out of them, and Grey was so poker-faced last night when I half apologized for ghosting him in Hawaii that I don’t think he’d tell me what he wants and why either.
And yes, it was only a half apology on purpose.
I wanted to see how he’d react and take it the rest of the way from there.
On the off chance he’d consider selling Bean & Nugget back to me—not that I can afford it on my own, but I have a massive community behind me and faith in myself—I need to not do anything to jeopardize my chances.
Anything more.
No more sleeping with him. No more flirting with him. No more hurting him. No more ghosting him.
Hence the present from Jitter.
And my continued cheerfulness.
The morning drags forever.
And ever.
And ever.
Zen checks on me occasionally, always with a look of I want to trust you because you have a cool dog but I don’t like people who hurt my uncle.
Willa and Cedar whisper questions when they walk by about why I’m still being a stubborn ass and insisting on hiding from people in the kitchen.
“This is where I fit best right now,” I tell them.
I got questions at Silver Horn last night too, and the only answer I’d give anyone was come in to Bean & Nugget tomorrow. Don’t give up on us just because we have new management. It’s still great.
No one will be able to tell Grey that I’m sabotaging him.
No one will be able to tell him I don’t want this place to succeed.
But also, hopefully no one tells him about Silver Horn, because now that we’re sharing a wall off-hours, I need the speakeasy to stay a secret.
I need the place I can go when I need to let my guard down. And with Laney and Theo in the throes of young love and Emma possibly never talking to me again, it’s the best I’ve got when it’s too late to bother Grandpa or my mom.
I’m scouring the grill controls with a toothbrush when I feel a presence behind me. Instead of turning, I start singing along with the radio.