“I can't say no to those brownies. And we owe you one. Let's do it, starting with orders twice a week. I'll expect you to coordinate with the gift shop to make sure you're keeping us stocked and adjust that timing as needed.”
“I don't want you to say yes because you think you owe me,” I said as every instinct for self-preservation urged me to shut the hell up. It didn't matter why he said yes, it only mattered that he did. If my foolish recklessness had helped me get their business, then everything had worked out for the best.
I couldn't help myself. My pride was stronger than that sense of self-preservation.
Royal flashed a grin that had me pressing my knees together, and this time that grin reached all the way to his deep blue eyes.
“I would have said yes anyway, but I would have pushed harder on the consignment thing. What you did this morning was incredibly foolhardy. It was also very brave. Sweetheart Bakery is a lot smaller than The Inn, but we both know what would have happened if that guy had managed to dump all those cockroaches into the building. You saved us a lot of trouble. I understand you don't want us to owe you, but the fact is that we do. And your proposal is a good one. It's a win-win. So, smile and say, Thank you, Mr. Sawyer, and finish your breakfast.”
He winked at me. ‘Thank you, Mr. Sawyer.’ I couldn't help the quirk of my mouth. I was impervious to flirting by handsome men. The wink, that smile—none of it would work on me. I absolutely did not smile back. This was business. That was all.
Dutifully, I said, “Thank you, Royal,” deliberately using his first name to prove he didn’t intimidate me.
Never mind that he did. A lot. Far more than I wanted to admit. Something about Royal Sawyer left me off-center. Restless.
To cover my discomfort, I took another sip of coffee, then set the ice back on the tray and picked up my fork. My last meal had been a long time ago, and The Inn’s kitchen was one of the best in town.
Cinnamon-scented stuffed French toast, fluffy biscuits, scrambled eggs, and crispy links of local sausage. No way was I letting this go to waste. Royal took my cue and dug into his own breakfast. West didn't knock on the door until we were almost finished.
Sawyers Bend was a little busier than your average small town, given all the tourists that moved in and out on a regular basis, but Weston Garfield didn't typically see a lot of crime. That had changed since Royal's father died two months before.
Prentice Sawyer had been shot and killed in the family mansion. The second oldest son, Ford, was in jail for his murder. And Royal's black sheep of an older brother, Griffen, had inherited everything. Since then, the town of Sawyers Bend had skidded off the rails.
According to Hope—Griffen's new wife and one of my best friends—someone had tried to kill Griffen twice, finally breaking into Heartstone Manor with a gun, intent on taking out as many Sawyers as he could.
Added to the rumors that there’d been some trouble at The Inn, I was betting West Garfield had been a busy man.
He greeted Royal like an old friend and took the seat beside mine. Before he got started, he eyed the basket of cookies and brownies. “I know you're not gonna hoard all those for yourselves.”
With a shake of his head, Royal passed over a packet with a crumpled cookie and one holding a brownie. West opened the cookie and fished out a piece. “It's a good thing you stay out of trouble, Daisy. I've never been susceptible to bribes, but these cookies might do it.”
He sat back in the chair, his eyes fastened to my cheek. I couldn't see what it looked like, but it throbbed, and my skin felt stretched tight. Swollen. It was a good thing I had Grams and J.T. to work the front counter at Sweetheart. I didn’t need customers seeing me like this.
“We have your early-morning visitor locked up. Unsurprisingly, he's not talking. He do that to you, Daisy?”
“It was dark, and I was trying to find the staff entrance—” I ran West through the events of that morning. When it was happening, it seemed like it took forever. In retelling it to West, I realized only a few minutes had passed from the moment I bumped into sweatshirt guy to Royal pulling him off of me and pinning him to the ground.
West took careful notes, his face impassive, eyes serious. “Is that everything?”
“That's it,” I confirmed and drained the last sip of my cappuccino.
West tapped his pen on his notebook before standing. “What you did was very brave, Daisy. I know Royal and Tenn appreciate you stopping him before he could cause them more trouble, but the next time you run into a stranger in the dark who’s intent on committing a crime, you don't confront them. You run the hell away. Understand?”