Royal’s eyes were still locked on me, his charming grin nowhere in sight. Tenn only had eyes for the basket on my arm.
“That looks fantastic. You were going to leave that in our offices so the first thing we saw was that basket of treats?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Now I was wondering if it was just foolish.
“Pass over one of those broken cookies. I can't wait until I get into the office.”
Mutely, I did as ordered, some of my embarrassment fading as Tenn's eyes rolled in pleasure at the first taste of one of my chocolate chip cookies.
“Why don't you go up to the offices with Royal and you two can talk about your proposal while you wait for West to take your statement? You need to get some ice on that cheek.”
“You ready to take this asshole?” Royal asked, his grip tightening on sweatshirt guy's wrists, wrenching them up and driving the man's face into the grass.
“Let's go,” Tenn agreed, and seamlessly, they switched places. Sweatshirt guy tried to roll as Royal stood, but he wasn't fast enough.
Once Tenn had him secure, Royal turned to me and held out a hand. “Let's get some ice on that cheek. Breakfast? Coffee?”
A little dizzy from the quick shift, I slid my hand in his and with the other gave him his phone. He had it at his ear a moment later. “Two Blue Ridge breakfasts in my office and a bag of ice.” A raised eyebrow at me. “Eggs scrambled? Fried? Regular coffee, or do you want a cappuccino or latte?”
Dazed, I clutched my basket. “Scrambled and cappuccino, please.”
Royal relayed my order.
“I could have waited with Tenn,” I said. “You don't have to—”
“You need ice on that cheek. Considering you got beat up while trying to save The Inn from a cockroach infestation that would have been a monumental pain in the ass, the least I owe you is breakfast.”
I couldn't argue with that. I kept an immaculate kitchen, but every time the health inspector stopped by my stomach was still in knots. So many details, so many things that were easy to forget. No one wanted a bad sanitation score hanging in their window.
I could have stayed with Tenn and sweatshirt guy to wait for West. I probably should have, but Royal’s fingers were warm around mine. Strong. I let him lead me through the terrace doors and the lobby to the elevator, noting that he held each door, careful to make room for my somewhat rumpled basket of treats.
The executive offices were on the third floor, quiet and dark. It looked like Royal and Tenn’s assistant wasn’t in yet. Royal flipped on lights as we passed through the outer office, everything decorated with the same rustic elegance that dominated the rest of The Inn. The wide, tall windows in Royal’s office looked out over the gardens. I peeked down to see West hauling sweatshirt guy to his feet, already cuffed.
“West is here,” I said, needlessly.
Royal gave a quick glance outside before taking the basket from my arm and setting it on his desk. Using the light streaming in from the window, he tilted my chin and studied my swollen cheek. His thumb grazed my face so lightly it didn’t hurt but sent a faint pulse of energy shimmering across my skin.
“He got you good, didn’t he?” Royal asked, his voice tight. Gently changing the angle of my face, he murmured, “How many times did he hit you?”
“Twice.”
Royal’s thumb skimmed over my lower lip, his blue eyes dark, liquid with some emotion I couldn’t define. Nerves skittering through me, I stepped away. “I’m okay.”
“It could have been a lot worse. Why did you go after him? You could have just called West. You should have run inside. I don’t know how far he was willing to go, but you could have been hurt, Daisy.”
“I don’t know why I went after him,” I admitted. “I couldn’t call West. I dropped my phone when he bumped into me. And he just—something about him was wrong. Then I saw him with the box at the air vent. I didn’t know what was in it, but I knew it wasn’t good. I just—I didn’t think.”
Royal shoved his hands in his pockets, his lips quirking into a facsimile of his charming grin. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Good thing I came along, huh?”
“Very good thing.”
Turning his gaze to the basket on his desk, Royal gestured to the seat opposite his own. “This your proposal?” He teased out the envelope I’d tucked beneath the brownies.
My throat suddenly dry, I nodded.
“Sit, take a load off while we wait for ice and breakfast. You’re here, so we might as well do this now.”
I tried not to fidget as he opened the envelope and scanned my suggestions and cost projections for bringing a little bit of Sweetheart Bakery to The Inn at Sawyers Bend.