My lips twitched. I’d always loved that about Johanna and her husband, Darian. They’d adopted Felicity and her brother, Xander, when they were five and three respectively. Ever since then, they’d worked to teach them the value of hard work and give them the life their parents hadn’t been able to.
Hadn’t wanted to.
I had no doubt that Johanna was telling the truth—that she’d buy the bakery for her daughter and make her earn it fair and square.
“I didn’t know it was up for sale,” I remarked, eyeing the pastries in the cabinet.
Johanna nodded. “It’s the worst kept secret in White Peak. Alison and Martin are ready to retire, and I asked them if they were going to rent or sell. They said sell, and I’m happy with the price they want.” She shrugged and grabbed a takeout coffee mug for me.
“Mom!” Felicity protested. “You can’t buy me a business!”
“Oh, child.” She shook her head. “I’m not buying you a business. I’m buying me a business, hiring you to run it, and you can buy it when you want it. If you want it. At market price,” she finished gleefully. “Now, Sebastian, what can I get for you?”
Felicity groaned and disappeared back to the kitchen.
“All of it,” I answered honestly. “But I ran here and can’t run with cheesecake. My coach will be happy to hear that.”
Johanna belly laughed. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring you a slice over, and I won’t tell your coach if you won’t.”
“You’re a woman after my heart, Johanna. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave Darian for me?”
Another huge laugh that lit up the entire café. “Sit your butt down, boy, and stop flirting. I’m older than your mother.”
I held up my hands in defeat and backed away to a table, chuckling to myself as I took a seat at one of the many vacant tables. It was still early, and since it was Sunday, I didn’t expect her to get too busy until lunchtime.
Which suited me just fine.
My table was in the corner, furthest away from the door. It was the perfect place for people watching. I did just that as I waited for Johanna to bring me a coffee and a slice of cheesecake which was, apparently, my breakfast.
I’d had worse days.
I leaned back, making myself comfortable, and unzipped my sweater to take it off. The café was warm and toasty, and I scanned the tables, pausing when the door opened a very familiar brunette stepped inside.
I fought a smile.
Holley.CHAPTER SEVEN – SEBASTIANrule seven: don’t insult her. she’ll drag you into next week.She meandered up to the counter in her own little world. Her hair was pulled into pigtails that somehow suited her despite the fact she was no longer eight years old, and she wasn’t wearing her usual black-rimmed glasses. Her legs were accentuated by the tight workout pants she was wearing, but her upper body was swamped by a huge, light pink hoodie that had a bulging pocket at the front.
“Hi, Johanna,” she said, burying her hand in the pocket. “Can I get a latte to go and a bear claw? Oh, and Leona asked me to pick up the order today since they’re short-staffed.”
Aw, man. A bear claw. Nobody did bear claws like Johanna and Felicity.
“Hey, Johanna, I’ll have one of those bear claws, too!”
Holley’s head jerked in my direction, and her lips tightened when her gaze landed on me. “Someone hates me today.”
I grinned as Johanna motioned that she had me covered. “Morning, sunshine. You look a little active for a bookworm.”
She pulled an earbud from her ear and waved it. “There’s more than one way to read a book, baller.”
Baller.
She’d taken to calling me that when we were teens when she wanted to piss me off. The first time had been an accident, but when she’d realized I hated it, it’d stuck.
I still fucking hated it.
Mostly because, despite my height, I’d never been able to play basketball, and that wasn’t about to change now.
“Why don’t you sit down, darlin’?” Johanna said. “Those bear claws are still in the oven, and I need to get that order together. It’ll be a few minutes.”
Holley glanced at me. “No problem.” She pushed off the counter and sat at the table three away from me.
“Oh, come on,” I said, smirking. “Don’t be so rude.”
She answered by offering me a clear look at her middle finger and not saying a word.
“Don’t make me come over there.”
“Come over all you like,” she replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you.”
All right, then. That wasn’t an invitation I was going to pass up.
I got up and joined her, making sure the chair screeched just a little as I pulled it out. I saw down and leaned forward on the table. It wobbled with the pressure of my elbows, and she held her phone tight until it stilled, then resumed her tapping against the screen.