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Chapter 24: Lilah
It’s been three days since we found my front door open, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that someone is watching me. I can't help but wonder if I'm just being paranoid because my brothers think someone tampered with my Jeep. It's been two weeks and I'm starting to wonder if they overreacted. It wouldn't be the first time they got overprotective.
I skip down the front steps of a French bistro on Main Street. I've been cold calling restaurants all over Sonoma, handing out samples of Olive Branch Coffee beans and sales sheets. I've had three calls and two in-person orders and it's only 11 am. I am in a great mood. My phone buzzes and I'm hoping for another order, but the text message I get is even better.
Ben: What do you want for dinner? I'm thinking Pad Thai and a movie at my place.
Ben: P.S. I finished that book and I’m looking for my cowboy boots...
I can't stop the grin that splits my face. Ben gets me. He keeps joking about taking me out on a real date, but I love staying in with him. I've spent every night with him, bouncing back and forth between his house and mine. Lord. If he finds cowboy boots, it’s all over for me.
Me: Yes please!
I've been working long hours every day at the bakery. Between helping Olive with classes, prep work, and getting the coffee business cranked up, I'm bone-tired by the end of the day. Spending the evening curled up on the couch with Ben sounds like heaven. I'm so lost in my thoughts I turn the corner without looking and crash into someone.
"Oh, hey Lilah."
Terry. Mother. Fucking. Terry. Of all the people in this town I could bump into, he might be my last choice.
"Excuse me," I say coldly before looking back down at my phone and trying to sidestep him. He doesn't take the hint, choosing to follow me down the street.
"You and your sister are selling coffee now, right?"
I don't respond to Terry's question. I don't work for him anymore and I don't owe him a goddamn thing. I haven’t seen him since I left the bar, and I haven’t spoken to him since the night I put in my notice. His response at the time was somehow even more disgusting than I had expected. "I’m just glad I won’t have to watch you slut it up with the customers anymore." Dickbag.
"If you need to make some sales, I could help you. You should come by the bar one night. We might be able to work something out," he says in what I'm sure he thinks is a smooth voice.
The very thought of working with him again, in any capacity, makes me shudder.
"No thanks," I say before opening the door at my next stop and shutting it in his face. I'm early, but I'd rather browse the little gift shop for 15 minutes than be anywhere near Terry for another 15 seconds.
***
The rest of my day goes by in a blur. A very successful blur. I've got half of the restaurants in town switching over to our coffee, and most of the gift shops are placing orders to carry it. Tomorrow I think I’ll drive up and down the valley, hitting all the wineries that have gift shops. I hum happily to myself as I drive back toward the bakery. The weather is amazing, so I take the top off of my Jeep. The wind catches my hair, and I breathe deeply. Sometimes it’s good to savor the good.
"Shut the fuck up!" Olive squeals when I tell her how well the cold calls went today. "Holy crap. We might need to hire some extra help to handle the packaging and roasting."
My sister is practically vibrating with excitement. We make plans to look at the budget and post a help-wanted ad in the next day or two and then I head out, eager to get home and start my evening with Ben.
I'm halfway home when I hear a rattling coming from the undercarriage of my Jeep.
"Jesus, what now?" I mutter. I swear, I'm one car problem away from selling this thing and buying the ugliest, most practical thing I can find. I pull over, hoping it's just a piece of loose trim or a stick stuck under the bumper. In other words, something I could take care of myself.
Using the flashlight on my phone, I kneel and peer under the back side of the car. Nothing looks amiss... just a bunch of metal. I'm about to stand up when I swear, I see a blinking red light coming from behind the back wheel.
It's a bomb! My lizard brain shrieks. Except, when I take a better look at it, it's coming from a tiny black rectangle of plastic. In my admittedly very limited knowledge of bombs, that doesn't look like it could explode a Barbie Jeep, let alone damage my full-size one.
Gingerly reaching around the tire, I touch the rectangle with my fingertips. It pivots and makes a little rattle. Well, at least that's the sound identified. I grab it, trying to see if I just need to click something back, but it breaks off in my hand. No. Not breaks. It pries off like a magnet.
I frown as I look at it, turning it over in my palm. It's devoid of markings, just a tiny, dull, blinking light. It's covered in mud splatters and looks worn. The backside has one powerful magnet and a spot where another must have been glued on. I guess that's why it was rattling. I just don't understand why it would be attached with magnets and not wired in.
Cars are flying by and I don't want to hang out on the side of the road, so I hop back into the driver’s seat and toss the part over to the passenger side, making a mental note to message Asher and Lukas about it when I get home.
I pull into the driveway almost an hour earlier than usual and holy mother of god. The view is so good. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Ben, shirtless and glistening with sweat, pushing his lawn mower through my overgrown grass. He grins at me and my heart doesn't just skip. It sprints and trips, tumbling through my chest and rattling my ribs.
"Thank you, Jesus," I whisper to myself. He cuts the engine just as I hop out. I flip my sunglasses up on top of my head and whistle at him as he stalks over to me.
"You're early! This was supposed to be a surprise," he says before giving me a big sweaty hug and picking me up off my feet.
