Willa eyes us both from behind the counter. Zen appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and the scent of lemon scones hits my nose.
“Aw, fuck, bring me three of Gram-gram’s scones too,” he says.
Willa looks at me, then back at him. “You pay first when you’re a customer here.”
He freezes.
But only for a second before he aims a grin at her then turns it on me. “You’re gonna make me pay for food and drink here now? I thought we were friends.”
Does anyone else think that grin is smarmy, or is it just me?
Probably not just me.
“Why’s he gonna give food away to his friends when you never did?” one of the older guys says.
“You know who this guy is, Jimmy?” Chandler fires back. “He’s so loaded, he makes you look broke. He can afford a drink and a snack for an old friend.”
My shoulders hitch. “Classy, Sullivan. Very classy.”
“Not like Sabrina isn’t telling them all the dirt on you anyway.” He leans forward, putting his elbows on top of my puzzle. “She giving you shit? She thinks she runs the place.”
“No.”
“Oh, fuck, dude—did you fire her?”
Is that panic?
Is he afraid of Sabrina? Afraid for Sabrina? Worried about the café?
I might’ve only been here a week, but I know why this place runs so smoothly.
It’s her.
“Not yet,” I reply. “Do you think I should?”
That’s panic.
That’s sheer panic.
He glances back at the counter. Zen’s still watching from the doorway. Willa’s straightening the remaining pastries in the bakery case.
Sabrina’s not in sight.
The scent of lemon scones is getting stronger though. She’s back there. She’s baking.
I didn’t understand at first why she didn’t bake them early in the morning, but I’m catching on. Word spreads that they’re fresh out of the oven, and we get an influx of customers for the lunch rush.
Chandler looks back at me, and fuck.
This would be easier if he wasn’t visibly gulping and that wasn’t undeniable concern clouding his expression. “This place would die without her.”
“So?”
He blanches.
The fucker blanches.
Worse?
I think I actually feel sorry for him.
Super Vengeance Man wouldn’t.
But I have a conscience, no matter how much I wish I didn’t when it comes to this blight of humanity.
“My grandpa would fucking kill me,” he says.
That, I feel less bad about. Dude lost this café all on his own. “He know about your gambling problem?”
Chandler slaps his mouth shut and turns a glare on me. He’s still holding my puzzle piece, and his elbows have pushed apart half the pieces I already had in order. “If nobody’s told you yet, you can’t believe the gossip that comes out of some people’s mouths.”
It’s not gossip.
It’s in the report from the private investigator I hired to find out why Chandler was selling his café.
Should’ve asked for a full report on his hobbies and interests and collections too, but all I wanted was to know why he was selling and how much financial trouble he was in.
“People here gossip?” I say.
He freezes again.
I know that look.
He’s piecing out a mental puzzle. He knows about my gambling problem but doesn’t think people here talk.
Zen stops next to my table and slides a cup of tea and a scone in front of me. “Eat. Drink. Be merry.”
Chandler looks up at them and squints, and in less than the span of a single heartbeat, I prepare to end his time on this earth.
If he says a single bad word about Zen, asks a single question wrong, or so much as moves a single eyelash in a direction I don’t like, I will end him.
My fists curl.
My heart fires furiously.
And his phone rings—loudly—before whatever he’s thinking can come out of his mouth. He grabs it, still holding my puzzle piece with his other hand, still squinting at Zen, and answers. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”
Bitsy rolls her eyes.
“Always thought he did that because he was running three cafés and had a lot going on, but now we know he’s just a dick,” Jimmy mutters.
“What he did to Emma wasn’t your first clue?” one of the other men says.
Chandler flinches, then palms my puzzle piece and rises from the booth. “Yeah. Sounds good. I’m on my way.” He heads toward the door. “No, just dropped by to see if I could help the new guy at my old café. Dude’s in over his head. Got new weirdos working here. Gonna be asking for help soon enough.”