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Be there in a sec. On the office phone.
Braydon
No worries.
I lean against the front of my car and go through emails. Then I open social media and get lost in the abyss of videos.
The door swings open and I glance up to see Alessandra with red blotches on her cheeks. I lock my phone and shove it in my pocket. Push off the car and reach her in four strides. Frame her face and stroke her cheeks with my thumbs.
“What’s wrong?”
Her fingers wrap around my forearms and she pulls in a shaky breath. “Come on.” She tips her head toward the café. “Let’s go inside. Get some food. Then we can talk.”
Well that sounds serious, and not the good kind of serious.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I wave to Sharon at the prep station as Alessandra leads us into her office, a sad smile on her lips as she regards us. That one look twists my stomach. Has me shutting down the idea of confessing how I feel. Something is wrong and now is not the time to confess feelings and put each other on the spot.
The soft click as the door shuts sounds decibels higher. My eyes never leave Alessandra as she ambles around the desk and sits in her chair. A thump echoes in the small office as her elbows hit the desk a second before she drops her head in her hands. Passing the guest chair opposite her, I walk around the desk and sidle up to her. Brush my fingers over her temple. Toy with her ponytail. Lean in and drop my lips to her crown.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I whisper against her hair. “You have me worried.”
Pans clang in the background. The now familiar ding of the kitchen bell rings before Sharon calls out an order number. Hints of fresh baked goods and maple and bacon waft in the air. But they all fade to the background the longer Alessandra remains silent.
The tips of her fingers dig into her scalp before she sighs and straightens.
“Spoke with Sheriff Blackstone.”
I stroke her hair. Massage the back of her neck. Soothe her with small physical reassurance and let her know I am here while I wait for her to say more. Most importantly, I keep my lips sealed and let her speak when she is ready.
She tips her head back and meets my gaze. “She says they’ll keep the case open but have reached a dead end.” Her eyes fall shut as a heavy sigh deflates her frame. “The café is an isolated incident. No other businesses have been targeted.” Veiny, tear-rimmed blues look up at me. “Someone is doing this tome, Braydon.”
Tears paint her cheeks and she rushes to wipe them away. I squat down and spin the chair so she faces me head-on. Roll her closer and cup her cheek.
“Hey,” I whisper and wait until she meets my gaze. “We’ll get through this.” Another tear falls and I wipe it away with my thumb. “Promise.” I lean in and press my lips to hers. “With the cameras and extra eyes on the property, they’ll catch whoever this is.”
Her eyes dart between mine as she sniffles, her bottom lip quivering. “Hope you’re right. I don’t want to lose faith, but I feel it slipping away.”
“I have enough for both of us if you need a break.” My fingers graze her brow and tuck fallen locks of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get something to eat and mull over what to do next weekend.”
She plucks a tissue from a nearby box and blots under her eyes. “Yeah, I definitely need sugar and carbs,” she says with a laugh.
I rise to my full height and bend to kiss her crown. “Stay here. I’ll ask Sharon to make us something.”
A hint of a smile perks up the corner of her mouth. “Thanks, Care Bear.”
At first, the pet name she’d given me felt weird and childish. But the more she says it, the more endearing I find it. In this moment, with the slight rasp in her voice and the soft way it falls from her lips, the nickname wraps itself around my heart and holds on for dear life.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I love this woman.
“Hate that I have to leave, firecracker.”
Fingers laced in mine, she tightens her hold. Silently telling me she hates this as much as I do. Neither of us may be ready to put a voice to the infamous three-word sentiment, but I feel it in the way she doesn’t let go, in the slow strokes of her thumb over the length of mine.
I love you.
The words dance on the tip of my tongue. Beg to be said. Don’t give a damn it may be too early.
