The silky-smooth voice of a male R&B singer lured the unsuspecting inside.Can we talk?Christopher almost choked on an ill-timed chortle. If only a conversation could smooth over years of distrust on both sides. They were way beyond civilized discussions.
Zach wanted blood.
Christopher wouldn’t claim innocence on his part of the long-simmering feud. From the start, he’d retaliated against every one of Zach Jenkins’ petty remarks with some form of passive aggression from himself or his business. A mediator or a miracle were the only viable solutions.
Nineties R&B couldn’t hide the sins of the proprietor of the shop, as much as Zach might wish.
Christopher strode toward the counter.
The wind had picked up, chilling the day. Ashley had probably encountered an afternoon crowd at the coffee shop, tourists seeking hot beverages. Less than a half dozen patrons savored a cold treat around two bistro tables in the front window.
“Yo! It’s a great day to keep it real. How may I help you?” Zach asked with his typically brittle tone. He was the iciest thing in the shop. Dressed like a geriatric member of a failed hip-hop revival, he crossed his arms over his chest and his chin hardened. He assumed a tough pose for the D-list group’s latest album cover.
It was hard not to laugh at a grown man in neon and overalls. But Christopher wouldn’t dare provoke him, no matter how funky fresh the ensemble. Instead, he arched a brow. “Have a minute?” He was always careful in front of tourists. More than anyone, he was aware of his public image.
Zach dried his hands on his apron. “Scotty,” he called without turning. “Cover the front, please?”
Sneakers squeaked on the tile, and a pimpled kid burst through the door to the backroom in a neon apron to stand at Zach’s side.
“Let’s step out back,” Zach said.
Christopher nodded and strode the length of the counter toward the exterior door. He pushed open the fire-rated metal panel and scanned the gravel lot filled with dumpsters and cars for the employees of each shop.
He wasn’t sure this was a better place for the conversation. For his sake, his office would have been best. At least he didn’t spot anyone with pitchforks waiting to march on the Inn.
The door slammed shut.
“How can I help you? Need more projections?” Zach rubbed his hands together. “Perhaps you want to see my dream journal, too?”
Christopher crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t totally hide his incredulity, but he successfully held back an eyeroll. Not giving into his worst impulses to taunt back was going to cause him to develop a twitch. “I trust you want what is best for the community and businesses as much as I do.”
“Of course.”
Deep breath in one, two, three, and release.If Christopher hoped the breathing technique would slow the rapid race of his pulse, he was wrong. His fingers itched to curl into a fist and punch the smug grin off Zach’s face. At least he hadn’t been told to talk to the hand.“Then I have to wonder at your methods.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “Always so formal and fancy. You love a ten-dollar word when a penny would do. Say what you mean.”
“Why are you blogging about the lighthouse and a ghost?”
Zach shrugged. “Why not? Ashley seems pretty convinced there is something supernatural occurring at the property. Shouldn’t her voice count?”
Not in this way.Christopher gritted his back teeth.
“She is your wife. Shouldn’t you be supporting her?”
Christopher might have growled. He definitely curled his upper lip. He wouldn’t have his honor called into question by this man. “Enough. I’m handling what is happening at the Inn. I don’t need any outside involvement.”
“You demand respect for your boundaries, but you won’t do the same for us in return? Mind our own business and leave yours alone?” Zach wagged a finger. “Tsk tsk. Very unbecoming.”
Christopher wanted to say a lot. Words likecriminal investigationfloated through his brain. But how much could he give away? Being provoked by a bully wasn’t anything new. He wouldn’t give in to the urge to silence his opponent and reveal too much. “I guess I don’t understand you. What is best for the Inn is best for the whole town.”
“We disagree about the definition ofbest.”
“You think Ashley is the winner? Or do you think she’ll be easy to control?”
“She’d definitely change things up. We could all use that.”
She would. But without someone to reign in her flights of fancy, she’d be running from one ghost story to another. Chaos would ensue. If channeled properly, she was an asset. “The Inn is central to the town.”
