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“Can I get you something, Brent?”

“Yeah. Your number.”

“Already have it.”

“Then use it.”

She sighs.

I step away from the oven.

“Problem?”

Brent turns.

His smile disappears.

I don’t say anything else.

Don’t need to.

I just look at him.

He looks at me.

Then at the tattoos covering my forearms.

Then at the scar cutting across my temple.

Recognition flickers.

“You’re Blackwood.”

“Good memory.”

“The Reaper.”

“Depends who’s asking.”

He swallows.

I tilt my head toward the door.

“Think the lady’s busy.”

Brent straightens.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He leaves without buying anything.

Smartest decision he’s made all morning.

Autumn folds her arms.

“Was that necessary?”

“He was annoying you.”