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Considering Ember’s already seen me, and my uniform tends to stick out like a sore thumb, no, but it was a good idea there for point-two seconds.
I instead seize the opportunity to scan the place. Ever since I became a cop, it’s been engrained in me to be aware of my surroundings. I’m pretty sure it’s natural for my profession, though, because every man on my force is the same when we get lunch together or something. It’s probably part of the reason people sit a little straighter and talk a little quieter when I walk into an establishment. As if hearing one mom tell her coffee companion with the fussy toddler that her eight-year-old got the chicken pox and still went to school one day is going to make me whip out my handcuffs. It’s not. Let all the kids get chicken pox. Then they won’t get them again, and the temporary pain will be worth it in the long run. I feel like that’s a pretty sound theory.
I finish my assessment of the place just as the middle-aged woman moves down to the end of the order counter to wait for her large, iced caramel macchiato—in addition to super-scanning eyesight, my hearing is topnotch—and I force myself to step up to the register. I swear Ember’s smugness has increased five times just since I walked through the door three minutes ago, but guess what? Ialsopossess the innate ability to school my features precisely how I want them.
Right now, I look as cool as a cucumber hanging out on the edge of a glass.
“I heard you got a little surprise the other day,” Ember says with a grin as she leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms over her narrow chest. Her head is tilted so far back she might have a crick in her neck when she straightens, but I get it. My height of six-two practically dwarfs her. “I really did want to be there, but Phyllis asked me to stay late at the library.”
Because I love Ember like a little sister and am protective of her due to her past, despite her over-obnoxious personality and annoying wit, I offer a smirk. “I think I should take offense to the fact that you chose books over my surprise birthday party. There was evenhomemadestrawberry shortcake with fresh, juicy strawberries from Sarah’s backyard. And shoot. Don’t even get me started on the burgers from Farm to Table. And those fries! I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much delicious food in a while.”
She rolls her eyes, and a section of dark hair falls in front of her face, so she pushes it over her shoulder. “Books are admirable company, Seth. They definitely don’t make you feel bad for doing a good deed for our—” her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper—“ancient librarian.”
I don’t disagree about the ancient part. I’m pretty sure Phyllis Cartwright turned a hundred about three-hundred years ago. Technically I don’t know her real age, but I know I itch to have a reason to revoke her license every time I see her trying to see over her steering wheel when she’s driving.
“Touché.” I glance at the glass case holding today’s selection of goodies—all of which my sister made in her new standalone kitchen that housesBaked by Jess,a wholesale baking business—glad nobody’s behind me to rush me. It’s mid-afternoon, so there are a decent amount of patrons utilizing tables, but it’s not a peak time for foot traffic. Come tomorrow or Saturday when more visitors are in town, yes, but today it’s manageable. “Hmm. What should I have today? Any suggestions?”
“I’m not going to answer that because we both know what you’re gonna order.”
Such a dry sense of humor this one has.
I grin. “You said the cinnamon roll, warmed up? Gosh, what a great idea. Too bad I didn’t think of it myself, huh?”
Ember huffs as she taps the order into the computer. “Want anything to drink with that,Officer?”She fake coughs. “A glass of sparkling arsenic water? It comes in a variety of flavors that are very alluring: Deadly, Murderous, and Death Wish.”
“Hilarious, Em. It’s so funny I’m trying not to interrupt everyone in here with an obnoxious belly laugh.” My own dry tone says otherwise, but I can’t prevent the smile that pulls at my lips. “I’ll take a—”
“Wait.” She holds up her hand. “Let me guess. You’re gonna order a mango smoothie with your cinnamon rollanda packet of salt? Do you realize how gross it is that you put salt on your cinnamon rolls? What if the combination of the sugar and sodium spikes your blood pressure?”
I barely resist rolling my eyes. “Do you question everyone who orders like this?”
“No. Only you and my siblings and parents. Well, and Jess sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?” I pull my wallet from my pocket and hand her my card. “Sheesh. What does my sister do to earn such special treatment?”
Ember’s grin broadens even more, though I’m not sure how that’s possible, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her bare ring finger. “Easy. She married my brother.”
“Okay, well, I won’t be marrying either of your already married brothers, so I guess we’ll go on like this forever.”
“Not necessarily.” She hands me the receipt to sign with a pen that has a ridiculously oversized flower glued to it. If their pen ever goes missing, it shouldn’t be hard to locate. “Youcouldmarry Jenna. Then I would consider amending my persnickety ways in regard to your orders.”
“Like I said, I look forward to being questioned for the rest of my life.” I drop the pen back in its holder with the rest of the bouquet.
Ember shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be here, just watching all of you fall in love with the people you’ve sworn you won’t fall in love with.” She starts ticking off on her fingers. “First it was Wynn and Noelle, then Marshall and—”
“Chief Johnson. Just the man I wanted to see.”
Never in my life have I been so grateful to hear the mayor’s voice, and I manage one last smirk at Ember before neutralizing my expression and turning to face Mayor Leonard Mason. Today he’s wearing a bright yellow and blue checkered dress shirt, which pulls tautly over his portly midsection, with a brown sports coat and jeans. White shoes, bushy eyebrows, and a gray-ish handlebar mustache completes the older man’s signature look. He’s somewhere close to seventy, I think, but I’m not completely sure. All I know is that he’s been the mayor since before my sister and I came to town over twenty years ago.
“Mayor.” I shake Leo’s hand, and though he’s at least six inches shorter than I am, his grip is just as firm as always. “What can I do for you?”
He gestures over his shoulder at the table he must’ve come from—clearly I was too caught up in my conversation with Ember to notice him come in. “Do you have a moment to talk, by chance?”
My phone hasn’t gone off since I walked in, which is actually a miracle, so I nod. Ember hands me my copy of the receipt and my card, then says she’ll bring my smoothie and roll to the table when it’s ready. I drop a ten in the tip jar that saysOn a scale of $1 to $10, how attractive are you?—something that was Ember’s idea, which tends to hurt my bank account because I can’t let her one-up me—and follow the mayor over to his table. Sunshine is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the coffee shop’s front, and it makes a beam of light bounce off my nametag as I sit down.
Mayor Leo takes a seat across from me and folds his hands on top of a folder on the table. He must’ve seen his granddaughter recently, because there are remnants of pink nail polish in the crevices of his nail beds, like he took the actual paint off but couldn’t get it all off. He’s one dedicated grandfather, that’s all I have to say.
“First of all, I want you to know that you’re the first person, other than Charlotte, who I’ve talked to about this.”
