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We all hate pre-ground coffee. Zander grinds fresh beans every morning. But this bag was never going home with me.

After I pay, I undo the top. The smell of fresh grounds fills my nose. Shame to waste good coffee. Oh well.

Acting is what I’m best at, so this scene is easy. I walk past their table, fake a trip on an uneven floorboard, and let the bag fly, aimed right at Mack.

“Oh shit! My apologies!” I stumble dramatically but stay on my feet.

Mack stares at the pile of coffee grounds in his lap and shakes a few out of his hair.

Nina whips around. “Jarek? What are you doing here?”

“Just grabbing coffee for the house. These old floors, huh? Did any get on you?”

I brush a speck off her shoulder, and our eyes lock.

“No big deal,” Mack says good-naturedly. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

I give him a nod, grab the empty bag off the table, and pause at the door.

My eyes linger on hers. “See you at the house, Nina.”

“Don’t you want another bag?” she asks. “You spilled yours.”

“Nah.” I wink. “Come to think of it, we’ve still got some at home.”

CHAPTER 14

NINA

“I’m so sorry about that.”

Mack brushes the last of the grounds off the table and onto the floor. “Don’t apologize! It’s not your fault.” He chuckles. “Now, where were we before I took a bath in coffee?”

I try to pick the conversation back up, but something nags at me. The way Jarek looked at me, that wasn’t a coincidence. Neither was the coffee.

Just as I’m convincing myself I’m reading too much into it, a barista walks over, looking awkward.

“Hey, guys, I’m really sorry, but I have to ask you to leave.”

I blink. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. The shop’s been booked for a private event starting in a few minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“The whole coffee shop?” Mack asks. “Who would do that? No offense, but this isn’t exactly a sought-after venue.”

He’d know. He runs the most sought-after venue in town.

“None taken.” The barista laughs. “I just work here.” She lowers her voice. “No idea why the Beaumonts want the place to themselves, but they paid a pretty penny for it. Guess it was worth it to the owner to piss off a few regulars.”

She shoos us out before we can finish our coffee.

Out on the sidewalk, I spot a familiar face on a bench down the street. Pascal.

“Isn’t that Mr. Beaumont?” Mack asks, following my stare. “The one you work for?”

I suppress a sigh. “Yes.”

Pascal looks right back at me, completely unapologetic.