At the same time, I realize a slight hush has fallen over the restaurant.
And then there’s the tickle between my shoulder blades filling in the rest of the blanks before I spot the tall figure towering over everyone else.
Grey’s here.
He’s paused just inside the doorway, looking around at the clumps of people gathered between the tables like this is a private party.
“It’s the new café owner,” goes through the dining room in a lightning-fast whisper.
“Holy hotness,” Devi breathes as she turns to look.
“He is—wow,” Laney adds, twisting as much as she can with her leg still sticking out on a spare chair to get a better view herself.
“Personality,” I remind her.
She smirks. “Okay, Ms. Good Deeds.”
“Mr. Greyson,” Nani Parvati calls. “You come in. Come have dinner. Meet my grandson and granddaughter-in-law-to-be. Have dinner.”
“Nani, you said ‘have dinner’ twice,” Devi’s brother says.
“It’s the most important.”
Everyone laughs.
Everyone except Grey.
He’s in jeans and a button-down oxford under his thick wool coat, wearing gloves and his beanie and that beard that he’s growing out, and he’s more deer-in-the-headlights than I’ve seen him since I rescued him in Hawaii.
“Dammit,” I mutter while the locals descend on him.
“What’s he doing here?” Devi whispers. “You have food at Bean & Nugget.”
“He came from San Diego,” Laney whispers back. “He’s probably used to more options for dinner than soup, sandwiches, and pastries.”
“Or maybe someone invited him,” I say.
“Or he’s casing Nani’s joint to take it over next,” Devi says.
I don’t think owning an entire town is his style.
But I do think he’ll be as popular with the single crowd here in the Tooth as Jitter is nearly everywhere we go.
Locals are already converging on him. Probably asking the same questions they asked me, but they get to go right to the source.
A few people glance at me like they want to see if I’m reacting at all to Grey’s presence.
I pretend I don’t notice.
But I do get a little nervous when I realize Kayla Swoosy’s talking to him.
She’s a retired Olympic trampolinist. Yes, it’s a thing. Yes, she did it. But the more important part here?
“What’s that look?” Laney asks me. “Why are you making that face?”
“You know how I’m off gossip?” I whisper.
“I know how you keep saying that.”
“I…told my new boss…some details about people around town that aren’t entirely accurate when I…told him…that I was giving up gossip because I didn’t want to know certain things about certain people anymore.”
It’s not every day that I manage to surprise multiple people around me, but I have clearly done it now.
“You told him gossip about us?” Devi whispers.
“I changed details.”
“Names? Situations? What?” Laney asks.
“It depended on what came to me first. But I used code names instead of actual names. And I changed details about who did what. Sometimes better than others. Like, I implied I’m related to an Olympic curling champion whose parents are swingers. And that there was once a huge war in town between the ice cream shop owner and the local spa owner over the spa owner’s duck regularly pooping in the ice cream shop owner’s yard. That sort of thing.”
“Nani Parvati and Mr. Monroe had an argument over a taxidermy donkey, which is the closest thing I can even begin to think of to match that second one,” Devi says with a glance at Grey and Kayla. “And Kayla’s an Olympic medalist, but her mom is single. And you’re not related. Or have any relatives who would be—oh my god.” She slams her hands on the table, making both Laney’s plate of food and Jitter jump. But she lowers her voice and leans in as she whispers, “Are Chandler’s parents swingers?”
“No, but they have an open marriage,” I whisper back when I’m sure no one else is listening.
“Does Emma know?”
I jerk straight, scaring Jitter, who dives under the table, bumps his head, and almost makes Laney’s drink spill for shaking the surface.
“Is she talking to Chandler?” I demand.
“Abso-fucking-lutely fucking not,” Laney replies firmly while she straightens her meal back in front of her.