“No, you didn’t realize. But you got a front-row seat, didn’t you? Everyone in this town thinks I ruined my father’s farm and tainted his legacy. And you know what? They’re not wrong.” Jack paused in front of a cute little bakery with a hanging wooden sign. He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll wait outside for you to pick up Grandma Jean’s order, and then I need to head back to the farm. If you’re going to be longer in town, you can get a taxi back or call the farm and I’ll send someone to get you.”
I peered through the bakery window and spotted a young woman behind the counter.Becky Santos.The target of my matchmaking scheme. I couldn’t make two people fall in if they weren’t in the same room. No. Jack wasn’t going anywhere until I’d worked a little magic.
Chapter 7
Jack
“Let me buy you a coffee.”
Delia’s fingers rested on my forearm. Tiny snowflakes latched onto her gloves, making a fine crystal pattern. The flakes caught in her hair too and melted against her cheeks that had turned pink from the cold.
But her fingers lingered. An invitation that I let hang in the air until she rolled her eyes and huffed a frozen breath.
“I know what you’re thinking. But I promise not to poison it. I left my case of cyanide back in the room.”
“And my saw is in the truck, so I guess that makes the bakery neutral territory.”
“Only if you come inside.” Delia reached for the door and swung it open, flourishing her hand like an usher inviting me into a show. “Hurry up, you’re letting the cold air in,” she teased under her breath.
I scraped a hand through my hair and rocked back on my heels with hesitation. The thing was, Delia’s offer was tempting—though suspicious—and after yesterday’s moment in the woodshed, it was also an offer I should refuse before things got out of control. Even without the possibility of revenge for what I’d put her through or the temptation of something more, I hadn’t spent this much time in public since I’d moved back to Wood Pine. Already the morning was off to a rocky start with the verbal slight at the hardware store. Still, Delia didn’t look like she’d take no for an answer, and if I wanted to avoid a scene, coffee was my best bet.
“A quick coffee. Free of toxins,” I conceded, passing her to enter the shop. Immediately, the sweet smells of warm pastries and sugar cookies invaded my senses. If you bottled it up, you could label itDelia Frost, and sell it in the perfume aisle at Macy’s.
The shop was busy, and workers weaved behind the counter making flavored coffees, while wrapping pastries in little cardboard boxes. We stepped into line and Delia nudged me in the shoulder and angled her head toward the woman working the counter.
“Grandma Jean says the pastry chef here makes the best croissants.” Delia’s voice dipped with a sly murmur. “She also mentioned the young woman might be an old flame. Care to comment?”
I scoffed. “Who Becky? Don’t be ridiculous. We were in the same class and chatted a bit, but that was about it. She had plans after graduation to start her own bakery in the city, but they fell through and she took the open bakery position here instead.” I mimicked Delia’s devious tone. “What’s with the interest? Are you jealous?”
Delia threw her head back and laughed. “Dream on, Conifer Casanova. I don’t swoon at the feet of men who try to run me out of town.”
“Not town, just my inn, and no one’s running in those boots.”
The line moved as we inched our way to the front.
Delia chewed on her lip, her nose wrinkling in irritation. She was probably calculating the deadly dose of cinnamon.For when you forget to bring your cyanide.She was definitely up to something. Her gaze darted around the cafe, taking it all in like she was concocting some sort of scheme. Maybe she planned to rob the place. I still didn’t know why she’d come to town. A laugh rumbled in my chest at the thought. Delia, the Candy Cane Bandit.
When we reached the front, Becky—my supposed admirer, did a double take. Most people did when they spotted me, but rarely with a friendly smile. To be fair, Becky was the only one in town who didn’t seem to care about my past. But that didn’t mean I wanted to date her and drag her down to the depths of my despair.
Plus, she wasn’t nearly as fiery as…
“Jack, it’s nice to see you. It’s been a while.” Becky’s smile deepened, interrupting my dangerous line of thought. “I have your grandmother’s order in the back. But can I get you anything else?”
I shrugged, barely looking at the specialty menu. “Large coffee, black.”
Delia cleared her throat and leaned in to mutter, “Come on, live a little. This is my treat. Pick out your favorite pastry and order something you wouldn’t normally get. Something with foam and sprinkles of cinnamon.”
See, she’s planning something nefarious with spices.
“Fine. A cheese danish and a large cappuccino, extra shot of espresso.Nocinnamon. Then whatever my—” I glanced at Delia, stumbling over what to call her. We weren’t friends. Nemesis was closer. I certainly couldn’t call her the stranger who’d invaded my home, and my thoughts for the past forty-eight hours.
Delia answered for me. “I’m staying at the inn for a few weeks, and Jack offered without hesitation to give me a ride into town this morning. He’s such a great guy.”
Was that sarcasm? Yeah, there were distinct bitter undertones in Delia’s reply. But the mockery must have gone over Becky’s head because she nodded, her auburn curls bouncing.
“He is,” she insisted. “I’ve always thought so.” Becky’s lashes fluttered, and a foreboding sensation seized my spine. I gauged Delia’s reaction, but she was nodding too with a look of innocent approval on her face.
That’s it. She’s tasting my coffee first.
