"You were in yesterday, though. Sean, my barista that day, told me your order." I take a sip. Chai tea latte with extra cinnamon. My favorite drink. Definitely not what I ordered yesterday.
"Thank you," I say, because people around the café have started staring at me again, surreptitiously behind newspapers and cups and books.
I follow Conall out the door while Layla drags Dolly behind us.
"Have a good day. I hope Amy's not being too hard on you," Layla says as she turns toward her bookshop, library, whatever it is.
"Why would she be hard on me?" Layla turns back, ducks her head and fiddles with her keys.
"Oh, just because, well, she thought Ursula would leave the business to her. After how long she spent working alongside her." My stomach drops. Of course. She’d been expecting the store, and then some stranger who’d never even met her former boss came waltzing in owning the place. I'd be furious too. I feel bad. Not bad enough to give her the store. I still don’t have anywhere else to go.
Dolly heads up the street toward the roundabout where the statue stands. Or rather sits, back in the thinker's pose.
I can see Amy in the window of Shipton's, straightening inventory and dusting shelves.
"Fuck," I breathe.
"She doesn't hate you." Conall's voice behind me makes me jump. I'd forgotten he was there.
"What?" I turn to him.
His eyes are already on me and have been, I realize, probably since before I turned. Watching with wary eyes and a tight jaw.
He lets out a breath. "I don't think Amy blames you."
"Yeah, but I took something she thought she was getting. It doesn't really matter if she blames me personally, does it."
He shakes his head. "She’s mad, but she’ll get over it. She doesn't hold grudges like that."
I nod and start to turn but can't quite stop myself from turning back.
"Are you and she…" I let it hang there, but his expression goes rigid and unreadable. "Sorry, it's not my business."
"No." His voice catches me just before I turn away. "This whole island's a bit too connected." I nod. "Have a good day, Ivy." He makes his way to a bench at the roundabout, plants himself there,looks my way, and winks.
It should feel sleazy or threatening. He's clearly watching me. But I just don't get those vibes from him. Though, I didn't get those vibes from my ex either. So my vibe meter can go to hell.
Conall
What am I doing?
It's the question that keeps flashing across my mind as the bell above Shipton's rings and I step inside. It's overly warm in the store. The afternoon heat sits untempered in the box of the shop. Several of the front windows are open, trying to catch the cool lake breeze.
"What are you doing in here?" Amy's sharp voice demands. She's behind the counter. I open my mouth to reply that I'm not sure. My hound just insisted. Then Ivy walks in from the back room. Her brown hair is pulled into two low pigtails, and she’s fanning herself with a notepad against the heat. A sheen of sweat makes her skin glisten in the artificial lighting.
Her eyes meet mine, and her eyebrows shoot up. "Listen, I know you denied the stalking, but—"
"I'm not stalking you," I growl. "I just need some… tape." The word “tape” leaves my mouth with more than a little hesitation. Like I made it up as I said it. Which is exactly what I did. Ivy tilts her head and rolls her eyes. She knows that wasn’t what I meant to say, but I’m not about to take it back.
She marches to the back of the store, grabs tape, and brings it to me.
"Here. Tape," she says. I hold it in my hand and choose to ignore it. Instead I meander past her, looking at items on the shelf. As I do, our wrists touch and a green spark lights between us. Tiny but noticeable.
"How are you liking running the store?" I ask.
Amy huffs and goes to the back room, apparently bored with my attempts at small talk.
Ivy sighs. "It's a job."
