“Okay, what did I miss?”
“I’ll tell you later. Anyway, you look like you survived a tornado made of glitter sugar and nonsense,” I say.
“I had a late night. The twins, Sage and Blake, just turned five months, and they aren’t sleeping great. They’ve been keeping us up all night. Then it’s been nonstop all day, and the book club is blowing up.” She nods toward the book café room connected to the bakery, where a crowd has filled every available seat. Archer, one of Lily’s lovers, stands at the front, holding a massive hardcover like it’s sacred scripture. He talks with one hand, animated and utterly in his element. The few straggling customers in the bakery have all gone to join them.
People hang on his every word.
Since he started the club, foot traffic has nearly doubled. It definitely doesn’t hurt that Archer is stupidly attractive, all velvet voice and librarian-kink vibes. Half the room is staring at him like he’s about to read them love poetry instead of Gothic poetry.
I’m honestly shocked that Lily hasn’t clawed anyone’s eyes out. She looks surprisingly calm for a woman watching other females openly ogle her man.
Chris leans on the counter, and I become distressingly aware of my heart doing cardio. He fits here too easily. Like he belongs.
“So,” Lily says, eyebrows lifting, “are you feeding the bounty hunter or just admiring him like a Christmas decoration?”
My cheeks are on fire while Chris winks at me, loving the attention.
I amabsolutelyadmiring.
He gives me that almost smile again, the one that feels like he’s peeling back layers without even trying. “I’m here for brownies. And to keep her out of trouble.”
I hate how easy this feels. How warm he looks in the glow of fairy lights wrapped around the pastry case. How every cell of my body is tuned to him when I should be focusing on salvaging my career.
My stomach twists, but Chris shifts closer, just enough that his heat leaps over to me. He’s not touching me, but close enough.
Lily snorts. “Wasting no time for your payment for playing Santa, hey.” She glances my way. “I’m paying in brownies because they are that good.” She smirks as she rifles beneath the counter. “You sure you don’t want something stronger? You look frazzled. How did the Winter Party go?”
I gasp out loud. “The event was worse than I thought. I think Scot is kicking me out of the partnership. I texted him about twenty times and got nothing. So he’s either avoiding me or dead in a ditch, and honestly, I’m not sure which option gives me more peace.”
“Dead in a ditch is very dramatic,” Chris says.
Lily flicks flour off her wrist and gives me that forensic stare of hers. “Veryepisode eight cliffhangerof you.”
“I’ve been studying your true crime binges.” I lean against the counter. “If he’s dead in a ditch, think I could stage it to look accidental?”
“Easily,” Lily says. “I’ve seen at least six cases that would translate.” She rolls another rumball in coconut behind the counter. “You’d need an alibi. I’d volunteer, but I crumble under questioning.”
“You lied straight to my face three days ago about not eating the last croissant,” I say.
“That was different. I was starving.”
I snort.
It’s only then that I notice Chris watching us with that dark, unreadable gaze. “Want me to pretend I didn’t hear the murder planning?” he asks.
I flick him a look. “You’re a bounty hunter. Pretty sure murder talk is just… Tuesday for you.”
His mouth curves, sharp as a blade. “I mean, if you need it done…”
Lily perks up. “Well, we already know you accept baked goods for payment.”
“I’ve been paid in worse,” he adds.
I lift a brow. “Like what?”
“Goat,” he says without blinking. “Once.”
I choke on my coffee. “You got a goat as payment for a job?”
