So, I had to talk her down from that too. Luckily, the bakery needed opening and customers needed serving, so there was ample distraction for them. Both of them had been muttering threats all day, though. They weren’t worried that Nathan technically hadn’t laid a hand on me.
It had been a whirlwind day. I’d slept in, which was unheard of for me.
The classical music of my alarm clock was much too soft to pull me out of the deep unconsciousness I’d lapsed into after finally falling into a restless sleep last night. I supposed the amount of booze I’d consumed had helped that. I wasn’t a spirit girl usually, but that was mostly because I hadn’t experienced a situation that called for spirits. Unless I was making my bourbon pumpkin pie with pecan streusel for Thanksgiving.
So, because I overslept, my entire schedule was out of whack. I was an hour behind on everything, rushing to get muffins, cookies and croissants out of the oven. And because I was in a rush to leave the house, I did not have the presence of mind to slather concealer all over my eye.
Luckily, I had snatched a cardigan from my closet which hid the angry fingerprints on my upper arms.
I hadn’t exactly forgotten about my black eye. I couldn’t forget about it since there was a dull throb behind my eye the entire day. But I got caught up in the business of the café—serving customers, running coffees, replenishing the bakery displays—a familiar and comforting rhythm. People asked, of course, about my face. It was a relatively small town, and word of such things spread like wildfire, so I’d hidden out in the kitchen after a morning of well-meaning questions and comments.
Dot, one of my beloved retirees, casually mentioned that she had her ex-husband’s kneecaps shattered when he thought he could lay hands on her, and she was still in possession of the baseball bats that achieved that feat.
I had politely declined her offer, equal points horrified and impressed that the woman who wore cat sweaters and had a purple rinse in her hair shattered her ex-husband’s kneecaps.
We were a tight knit town; people looked out for each other. Small town values remained here in Jupiter, despite the rest of the world going crazy.
It was nice, something I loved, especially since I’d never had that feeling growing up. I was well liked and respected here. Of course, a part of that was because I was the one who made all the sugary stuff and had a top-of-the-line espresso machine. But part of it was also because I tried my best to be a good person. I donated both my time and my money to various town projects. I was involved in every town event. Helped out wherever I could.
So, I was well liked.
Nathan was not.
Therefore, most people put two and two together when they saw me. Two and two being me looking like I’d been punched in the face, and the fact that I’d broken up with someone who people generally thought of as an uptight asshole who didn’t take rejection well.
It was exhausting, explaining that I’d had an accident at home to everyone. Fiona and Tina were the only ones who knew that Nathan was in my house when the aforementioned accident happened. I was planning on them being the only two people in possession of that little gem of knowledge since the town’s rumor mill had been running relentlessly, and the intricacies of the truth had been lost along the way.
Because I was flustered, exhausted, in a lot of pain and generally off-kilter, my body didn’t recognize the change in atmosphere when he walked through the door. In fact, I didn’t even know he was there until I looked up from the cash register to see him standing right in front of me.
Kip was also there, though I paid no mind to him.
I couldn’t. Not when Rowan’s eyes found mine.
For the life of me, I couldn’t tell what his expression or posture might’ve been in the seconds before I lifted my head and presented my bruised face to him.
Usually, those eyes were warm, inviting. But seeing them right then, I couldn’t believe that they were capable of being anything but two glittering holes of fury.
The phrase, ‘if looks could kill’ was rather trite and cliché, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Sure, I was still standing, and my heart was still beating, meaning the look he gave me didn’t literally cause me to drop dead, but it would’ve made me take a step back... If I hadn’t been frozen in place.
“Who did this to you?” Rowan’s nostrils flared, his jaw was set in a rigid line.
I blinked at him, unnerved at the pure menace in his tone. I knew this guy could be dangerous—that was communicated by his muscles, his size and the general way he carried himself—but being presented with it were two different things.