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“Stop!” she cried, not knowing who to run to the aid of. Her boyfriend or her best friend.
Quinn yanked Joe up and off Paul, and she gasped. Paul’s face was a bloody mess, his nose obviously broken. She moved toward him but froze when Joe turned his fury on her.
“Fucking whore! How could you? You goddamn slut!”
Joe’s words were like a punch to her gut. He shouted more vile insults, but they were a blur. The only thing that was clear was the anger, the devastation, the fury that colored her best friend’s face. It stopped her cold because it was all aimed ather.
Quinn hauled Joe out of Monty’s, and she could only stare after them.
Dread. Shock. Confusion. Heartbreak. All warred within her.
A tear slipped down her face, and she didn’t bother wiping it away. She stole a glance at Paul, who was being helped to his feet, then at the door Quinn and Joe had disappeared through. Her chest squeezed tight and panic began to simmer in her gut.
What just happened?
A rustle from the trees pulled Roxie from her memories. She stumbled on a root but caught herself.Holy crap, focus!Letting out a loud exhale, she picked up her pace, concentrating on the path before her so she wouldn’t faceplant. A sheen of sweat dotted her brow despite the frigid January breeze cutting through her neon-green jacket.
She was well into one of her usual morning runs—a four-mile out-and-back from her house to Fort Ripley State Park. This route was one of her favorites. The dirt trail wove back and forth, into the forest and then out along the bluff overlooking Puget Sound. The sun was still a couple of hours away from rising, making it difficult to see the water and trees on either side of the path. Still, she could hear the waves crashing below, and the crisp scent of the forest filled her nose.
Between her busy baker’s schedule and her hectic to-do list, these three-in-the-morning runs were her only quiet moments. The solitude gave her a chance to be mindful, set her day, and just breathe. Unfortunately, today’s run was doing little to clear her mind. But as she put one foot in front of the other, she pushed those awful memories away.
A side stitch had her slowing. She walked a few more paces, then pulled her water bottle from her running belt. Taking a long gulp, she patted herself on the back for keeping to the state park’s service road. She could have picked the trail that cut deeper through the woods, but this early in the morning, with the thick canopy and the lackluster moonlight, she would have struggled to remain upright on the uneven ground.
As Roxie brought the bottle back to her mouth, she scanned the horizon. Familiar lights twinkled in the distance. Her eyes widened; she choked on her sip. Water dribbled down her chin, and she swiped it away with her sleeve.
Hudson Island was shaped like the number seven. The downtown and main residential area were located at the southern end of the island. Fort Ripley State Park ran up the middle, along the western coast. And those twinkling lights? They belonged to the Pacific View Resort, located at the island’s northwestern tip.
If she could see the lights, then she had gone a full two miles farther than she’d intended. Her four-mile run had just turned into eight miles.Damn. It looked like she’d be getting into work closer to five, almost an hour later than usual. At least the extra distance would earn her a guilt-free splurge on a giant slice of pie and a bigger pour of wine tonight.
Roxie sent a quick text to June, who was one of her part-time employees, to let her know she was running late. Literally. Then, with a groan, she redid her ponytail and set off for home. As her feet slapped against the dirt road, she tried not to think about everything that needed to be done. But how could she not?
She’d opened Comfort Food six years earlier with a simple dream of serving delicious treats to both locals and tourists in a cozy setting. In those early days, she’d never imagined adding a catering branch, but five years into business, it had seemed like a good way to give her café more exposure and pick up some extra income.
To say the endeavor had been an instant hit would be an understatement. The amount of demand she’d received from the get-go had taken her by complete surprise. She’d hoped her catering business would be successful; she just hadn’t let herself believe it. But with success came growing pains. And stress. Never-ending stress.
So, while she was grateful to see her hard work and sleepless nights pay off, she was drained. The hustle never let up. It only intensified as her business expanded. If she was going to make it all work—which she was determined to do—then she needed to hire another person or two. She was already asking a lot of her small staff. Probably too much. But there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to figure it all out.
For now, she’d make do with her one full-time employee, Nina, and two part-time employees, June and Sheila. She would have had two more part-timers, but Ella, June’s daughter, had moved away to Seattle for college over the summer, and Alex was on indefinite maternity leave. Once Alex returned, everyone’s load would be a little lighter. Until then, Roxie was barely keeping her head above water. She was sure her team felt the same.
She hadn’t been lying to Jeremy when she’d said she didn’t have the time or energy to go out with him. She didn’t. Comfort Food was open seven days a week, from six in the morning to two in the afternoon—except Sundays, when they closed at eleven—and the catering side required around-the-clock attention. Granted, she didn’twantto go out with him either, but that was an entirely different discussion.
Her body was running on fumes. Her brain was turning to mush. If something didn’t give soon... well, she didn’t know what would happen. But it wouldn’t be pretty.
Usually, when life overwhelmed her—which, unfortunately, happened more than she wanted—she’d schedule an official Sunday Vegetation Day. Or, technically, a Sunday Vegetation Afternoon/Evening. She was a small business owner, after all, and there were people depending on her.
When the pre-determined Sunday arrived, she’d head home from the café after closing, lock her front door, turn off her phone, throw on yoga pants and a ratty sweatshirt, and park herself on the couch with the remote control, a pie, and a spoon. Then she’d veg. A Lifetime movie marathon with a delicious dessert always made her feel better.
But now she had a housemate, and there was no point in throwing a pity party if there were other people around to witness your misery.
Ugh. Jackass Joe. She picked up her pace. Nothing like a little aggravation to improve her running time.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be in town for very long. She could always hide out in her office when she needed a break. She generally tried to avoid burying her head in the sand, but where Joe Buchanan was concerned, she lost all pride.
Four miles later, she jogged up the front steps of the Buchanan house and checked the time on her phone. Four twenty-two. If she hustled, she’d be showered and at the café by four forty-five. Not too shabby. Good thing it was a Thursday morning. Midweek customers were usually just locals.
After a quick stretch on the porch, Roxie plowed through the front door and came to an abrupt halt. She removed her earbuds.
Joe was blocking her way. His lips were drawn in a tight line, and his jaw muscles twitched. With his arms crossed over his chest, anger radiated from him.
