His eyes narrow.
Darlene leans toward me and mutters, “He’s got your number already.”
I ignore her and gesture toward the empty stool at the far end of the counter, the one nearest the wall and farthest from the staring customers. “Come in before you flood the doorway. You want coffee?”
“No.”
“Breakfast?”
“No.”
“Lunch is starting in twenty minutes.”
“No.”
“Excellent. We’re communicating. I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast.”
“I said no.”
“And I heard you. Then I made a business decision.”
A tiny sound comes from someone near the pastry case. It might be a laugh strangled by fear.
Kauss stands there as if leaving is still an option. I know the look because I have worn my own versions of it. The body turns toward escape before the heart admits it wants to stay. His hand flexes once at his side, claws curling inward with careful discipline.
I soften my voice. “Please.”
That does it.
I do not know why. Maybe he is too honorable to refuse a direct plea from an injured woman. Maybe he is hungry enoughthat pride finally has competition. Maybe some small part of him wants what I am offering and hates himself for it. Whatever the reason, Kauss steps fully inside and lets the door close behind him.
The bakery breathes again, though cautiously.
He moves toward the counter with controlled slowness, as if every motion has been measured for threat. His boots are heavy on the floorboards. Water drips from his coat. When he passes the child by the window, he gives her as much space as possible, angling his massive body away so she does not feel crowded. I see it. I wonder how many other people do.
He reaches the stool.
I glance at it. Then at him. Then at the stool again.
“That stool is about to experience religion,” I say.
His brow shifts. “What?”
“Nothing. Sit carefully.”
“I can stand.”
“You can sit.”
“The furniture may not support me.”
“The furniture has survived Darlene’s ex-husband falling asleep on it drunk during Founders’ Week.”
Darlene calls from the register, “That man was two hundred pounds of cheap gin and regret.”
Kauss looks at the stool with grave suspicion. “I weigh more.”
“I figured.”
