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Avi slapped a hand on his large chest. “Wow, I’m hurt. You don’t consider me a friend?”
Violet rolled her eyes, her neon purple lips stretching into a smile. “So, you are a friend of Ronin’s then?”
Naia nodded, chewing her bite of pancake.
“Cool. Are you from the city? I doubt it, since we know all his friends here.”
Naia wiped the syrup from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “No, I am not from here.”
Avi quickly typed over the screen of his phone. “Noah, go flip the open sign on.”
The man paused slicing limes at the end of the bar and sauntered around tables to do as he was instructed.
“I guess it’s time to get to work.” Violet hopped off the stool, twisting her torso to glance back at Naia. “Are you hanging around for a bit?”
“Yes, until Ronin is done with his business.”
“Yay!” Violet chirped, bouncing around behind the bar.
Avi locked his phone and slid it into his back pocket. “Naia, do you want another beer? Might as well take advantage of Ronin’s nice hospitality.”
“Sure.” Naia slid her empty glass across the bar for him to refill.
The hours went by unexpectedly quick. Naia spent most of it observing Avi, Violet, and Noah work the brunch chaos. People poured into the brewery within five minutes of opening. Naia sat shoulder to shoulder with individuals at the bar, gritting her teeth when they occasionally brushed against her arm. The tables filled inside the brewery and outside. Naia was utterly amazed by the pace and skill it took Noah, Violet, and Avi to keep up. They did it with such ease, and Naia couldn’t help but marvel at them.
Ronin eventually appeared and silently beckoned her to follow him to his car.
Naia stared through her window, chasing the sunspots glaring off the passing vehicles and building windows.
“Avi mentioned you ate the pancakes,” Ronin said. “Did you like them?”
They were stopped in the middle of a street, something Naia assumed wasn’t abnormal, considering the other vehicles beside them were doing the same thing. She guessed it had something to do with the bright red light pointed at them.
She crossed her arms. “I suppose I can admit the food at your brewery isn’t too terrible.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him crack half a smile.
The light turned green, and he sped forward. “The pancakes were my father’s recipe.”
“He had an exceptional palate. The sweetness wasn’t lacking whatsoever.”
“So you like sweet things.” With one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his leg, he gave her a sidelong glance. “What’s your favorite?”
She unfolded her arms, beaming. “There are too many to pick only one. I am a fan of all baked goods, I guess you could say. Cakes, muffins, pastries,” she listed using her fingers. “Sourdough, focaccia, brioche…”
“Carbs then,” Ronin grinned. “You sound like my mom. She loved making strawberry cake or malasadas every weekend.”
Naia conjured up an endearing image of Yuki and Ronin as children gawking over a countertop in anticipation for a sugary treat.
“Was your father fond of sweets?” she asked.
His expression went vacant as he peered through the windshield. “No.”
Naia rolled her lips, listening to the cracking of his knuckles against the steering wheel.
From what she’d pieced together, it couldn’t have been long since his father’s funeral, since it was the reason Ronin was on the island. He was currently grieving the loss of his father, and she’d completely forgotten.
She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her fingernails in her lap. “Where are we going?”
