Thankfully, Lana had the good sense to leave me alone. After a few deep breaths, alone in my office, the tense knot in my stomach loosened and I could breathe without a sharp stabbing in my gut.
Back on the floor, the doors had been opened, and a steady stream of tourists and visitors were flowing through them and checking in at the front counter. None of them had any idea who I was—they probably wouldn’t suspect a guy with tattoo sleeves, dark shades, clutching a black leather jacket was the owner of such an establishment.
It was the stereotype.
I didn’t care.
If anything, I appreciated people’s bias as it allowed me more mobility and freedom. I wasn’t like O’Keefe, the type of business owner that had to see and be seen everywhere he went. I could move in the shadows if I wanted, and on the occasions that called for it, I was pretty damn good at making a splash.
Now, I was content to stay in the shadows and made my way out of the building without anyone chasing after me. I hopped into my truck and went down the steep and winding road that dropped me down into Holiday Cove and made my way through the small town to my favorite coffee shop.
“Hey, handsome,” a familiar voice called as soon as I stepped through the front door of the quaint shop.
Carly, the source of the greeting, popped her head over the glass case and smiled in my direction. “Hey, gorgeous,” I drawled.
“Little early for you, isn’t it?” She wiped her hands on her apron before side stepping to the old school cash register.
“Yeah, but I needed a little break.” It was as much of a confession as I was willing to make.
“Your usual?” she asked, already crossing to the espresso machine.
I gave a nod and she went to work. “Everything okay?”
I raked my hands through my hair. The small shop was empty except for an elderly man sitting with a newspaper at one of the tables off to the right of the counter and pastry case. “Just a long couple of weeks, that’s all.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the silver pitcher in her hand as she steamed the milk for my latte. After another half a minute, she topped off the drink with a light dusting of cinnamon and brought the paper cup over to me. She set it on the counter with a sweet smile. “Hey, I meant to ask you, did you ever find out anything more about that land development thing we were talking about last time you came by?”
My heart flipped at her question. Carly and I had known each other for a long time. I knew she’d keep my confidence—even in a small town overrun with gossips—but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about everything with Talia and O’Keefe. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about what had happened and telling Carly about it would require me to have thoughts or conclusions about it. I wasn’t quite ready for that conversation yet.
“As far as I know, the permits to build still haven’t gone through,” I said, offering the only piece of factual information I had.
“Hmm.” She nodded, but her eyes wandered to some point behind me, and I could see the mix of emotions at the news.
“It’s probably for the best,” she concluded, returning her bright eyes to mine. She smiled and reached across the counter to pat my upper arm. “You look stressed, Player. You ever think about taking a weekend off?”
I chuckled and gave her my best smoldering look. “Only if you go with me, gorgeous.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. Carly and I had long ago come to an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t be crossing any lines. We’d never even seen each other outside the coffee shop or the occasional run-in at the grocery store.
“Thanks for this,” I said, holding up the cup. I fished a five out of my wallet and handed it over.
“Anytime,” she said, smiling as she rang up the drink and put the money in the till. I dropped the change into her tip jar and started back toward the front door. “Take care of yourself, Player!”
I turned back and gave a mock salute. “I always do.”
13
“I don’t mean to nag—”
“—Then don’t,” I answered, cutting into Lana’s sentence. She’d been hovering over me ever since I got back from my coffee run, and I knew she was worried about me. Her anxiety for me rolled off her and only pissed me off. “Lana, listen, I’m fine. You’re fine. Go home. I’m just gonna look over these numbers once more and then I promise I’ll lock up and call it a night. Okay?”
She wrung her hands on the outside of the clipboard she always carried with her. I’d offered to buy her a fancy, techy tablet a million times, but she insisted that she was a “paper person.”