Remember the time that Aunt Flick, you know she’s the batty spinster with all the animals, went nuts in the bakery? Oh, it must’ve been forty, fifty years ago...
Flick pushed her hair off her face with her free hand and walked to the swing door, banging it open with the palm of her hand. The tables were all full and, thanks to the red mist in front of her eyes, her vision was blurry.
“Listen up!” she shouted and the noise dropped. The rumble of voices faded away until the silence was absolute.
Apparently, she stood just there, hair a mess, no makeup waving this wicked knife around...
“What’s going on?” Pippa asked as she walked down the stairs from her office.
“My sister is losing her shit,” Jack said from somewhere behind her. No doubt Moses was there too and the rest of her staff. Well, in for a pound and all that.
Flick spun around and pointed the knife at her brother. He was still a few yards from her so she waved it around to make her point. “Shut up! And listen up!”
Jack just smirked at her and folded his arms across his chest. The bastard was enjoying this. Maybe she should stab him, just a little prick...
Rumor has it that she tried to stab her brother. I think his name was Jack. He married that showgirl. Or was she a stripper?
Whoa, that was a step too far, even for someone as incandescently furious as she was. Besides, with Jack’s training, he’d have the knife off her before it came anywhere near his skin and that would be embarrassing. Best not to stab him.
“You got something to say, Princess? Because you have our attention,” Jack’s amusement was thick and she felt her temper bubble up again.
“Right! Yeah, I have something to say.”
“Can’t wait,” Jack said.
It was difficult but she ignored him. She turned back to her audience and looked past their heads. She couldn’t make eye contact—if she saw pity in their eyes she’d dissolve.
“I know that Manning is back and the next person who tells me that he is, I swear I will fillet them with this knife. Slowly. And painfully.”
“That sounds like a threat, Felicity. Can’t have that.”
Flick recognized that voice and looked towards a table at the window and the rugged face of Mercy’s chief of police came into focus. “Shut up, Kelly, I’m not scared of you! I used to beat you up when we were kids.”
Snickers of laughter drifted toward her and she scowled. Nobody should be laughing. This was serious, dammit!
“Manning and I had a thing and, apparently, he’s back. But whatever we had is over, and I don’t care! Get a life, people! Mine is not up for dissection!”
Under the anger, she felt tears gather in her throat so she rapidly blinked them away before closing her eyes. “Sometimes I really hate this town,” she said.
From the back of the room Flick heard the scraping of a chair as it skidded back on the tiled floor. “That’s a pity because I always hated this town but I’ve come to sort of love it. Could do without the gossip though.”
His voice was like drinking hot chocolate after a snowball fight, or cool lemonade on a stinking hot day. Tart, deep with flavor, and exactly what she needed. Flick opened her eyes and there he stood, dressed in a pair of battered jeans frayed at the hem and held up by a leather belt. A gray Henley fell over his broad chest and across his flat stomach. A leather jacket hung on the back of his chair. He was sitting with Sawyer, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. Her anger drained away and humiliation, just as hot and intense, rolled in. Oh God, she’d berated her customers in front of her ex-lover.
Her ex-lover was standing in her bakery, looking hot and completely unavailable. Wait, what had he said? That he liked Mercy now? Crap, did that mean he would be spending more time here, or possibly even moving back? She thought that she could, maybe, possibly—with difficulty—handle his occasional visits home, but him moving here, permanently, would mean that she’d have to leave. She could not,would not, spend the rest of her life watching the man she loved from a distance.
Not going to happen. Ever.
Flick bit her lip and forced herself to meet Kai’s spectacular eyes. They were beautifully gold. “Does that cryptic comment mean that you’re moving back to Mercy?”
Kai lifted one powerful shoulder. “Maybe.”
Maybe? That sounded more like a yes to her. Flick gave one sharp nod, and, conscious that every eye in the joint was watching them, turned to look at Pippa. “If that happens I’ll sell you my share of the bakery. Moses will bake the product.”
Titters skittered through their audience but Flick ignored them. She carefully placed the knife on the counter, untied the strings on her apron, and handed it to Tiffany.
Forcing her feet to move, she walked across the bakery to the front door, her head held up high. She would not let anyone see her cry. She was better, stronger, and had more pride than that.
“You just gonna let her walk?”Jack’s words bounced off her back.