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Chapter 4
Atlas
Atlas held the paper in front of his face, focusing on the lines of numbers. Jasmine Evans was mortgaged to her eyeballs. With the digging his lawyer had done, he had a small case file on the woman. Still, she was making payments on time—though barely, from what her bank records could tell him. This alone was incentive to sell. She could get out of the stress of debt and start over.
His stomach grumbled. Atlas tucked the page back into the folder and slid it into his bag. He opened the door and headed down to the dining room. As he drew closer, the scent of bacon grew stronger and light chatter drifted out.
“The Oyster is a local treasure. Pippa has the best bookstore selection on the seacoast, and some pretty cool art,” Jasmine said as he walked in. Her smile wavered a moment as her gaze met his.
“Good morning,” he greeted her and the two older guests sitting around the table.
“Good morning,” Jasmine said before she flipped the pancake in the pan. She nodded towards the opposite side of the room. “There is fresh coffee in the pot or hot water for tea.”
“Coffee sounds great.” He plucked one of the upside-down mugs laid out beside the coffee maker before filling it with the hot earthy brew.
He turned and leaned against the wooden edge of the counter, studying her as she filled a platter with sweet and savory breakfast foods.
“How long have you two been together?” the older woman sitting at the table asked.
Jasmine’s head snapped to the guests before returning to him. Her cheeks flushed pink.
The lady was talking to him? Atlas furrowed his brow.
“Oh, we’re not—” Jasmine started.
“I’m a guest.”
The woman’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile. “Careful, then. Might burn those pancakes with all that heat over there.”
Jasmine grasped a platter and carried it over to the table. Atlas pulled out a chair across from the older couple.
“Leave them alone, Annie,” the older man said with more humor than actual command.
“Help yourselves. I can make more if you need it,” Jasmine said before returning to the kitchen sink.
“Thank you,” they all said at once.
“You’re welcome.”
Atlas sipped his coffee while he waited for the couple to serve themselves. He winced, staring into the bitter java.
“It’ll put some hair on your chest.” The old man chuckled.
Atlas smiled and set his mug on the table before grabbing a plate and collecting three big pancakes for himself and a couple pieces of bacon. Hopefully Jasmine’s cooking was better than her coffee-making skills.
“What are you in town for?” Annie asked, her eyes seemingly assessing him.
“Just seeing the sights.” He poured maple syrup over his meal and then took a bite. Fluffy, sweet goodness exploded on his taste buds. The woman knew how to make hotcakes.
“And how are you liking these sights?” Annie nodded towards Jasmine, whose back was still turned to them as she did the dishes.
“Annie, stop bothering the man.”
Atlas took another big bite rather than answering right away.
“Hush up, Steve. Don’t you see the vibrations coming off these two?”
“Vibrations?” Atlas asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer or not.
