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“Gonna do my best.” He drops my hand and sets his on his hips. Then finally, like he can switch out of that cop role, his lips spring into a smug grin. “Slept at Hannah’s Sullivan’s place last night, huh? You sly dog.”
I roll my eyes and step around him to move back into the hall. “It’s not up for discussion, Deputy. Hannah!”
I catch sight of her moving out of the waiting room at the other end of the hall. When she hears my voice, she spins on her heels, and her eyes latch onto me like she’s dying of thirst and I’m the only water in five hundred miles.
“Axel.” Relieved, she rushes forward and reaches out for my hands when we’re close enough. “They were asking about your whereabouts and stuff.”
“It’s fine.” I wrap my arm over her shoulder and guide us toward the hospital exit. “They’ve gotta cover all their bases, but I’m square.” I turn my face and press a kiss to the top of her brow. “He thought he could be your date last night, and I still don’t hate him. He seems too friggin’ nice for that nonsense.”
Hannah
TRUTH AND SARCASM: SAME THING
“It’s the craziest thing.” On Monday morning, I heft trays of cupcakes from the back prep area of Juniper’s Bakery and set them in the display cabinet out front. It’s still early. Not quite time for the pre-school rush, so I slow my movements, and process the million thoughts that filter through my mind. “Jase is a nice guy, Nic. Gentle. Sweet.” I close the display cabinet doors and circle back to study her hunched over her table the way she always is.
At least today, she glances up.
“He knew that Axel and I…” Warmth colors my cheeks. “He knew there was something there, but he didn’t turn it into a big deal. He didn’t guilt me for being on a date with him but thinking about, and looking at, someone else.”
“But someone set fire to his truck?” Two deep lines form between her brows. “Like, for no reason at all?”
“I don’t know. I mean, there’s always a reason, right? Even if the reason is boredom, or wrong-place-wrong-time. But I’ve been wracking my brain since it happened, and I genuinely can’t think of whyhe’sbeen targeted.”
“Maybe he’s not sweet at all.” She picks up her pencil and twirls it between her fingers. “Maybe he’s a deadbeat with a dozen baby mamas sprinkled along the East Coast, and he pissed one of them off.”
I choke out a laugh and pick up the next tray. “Projection is surely a distant cousin to ego and envy, Ms. Scott.” I walk more cupcakes to the front of the store and set them in the cabinet. “No one seems to know what the hell is going on.”
“Maybe he’s involved in organized crime. He pissed off thebig boss, and now he’ll pay the ultimate price.”
“Maybe you’ve read too many books.”
“Maybe he ate the last cupcake down at Checkmate Security, and Sophia has a point to make.”
I snicker as Sophia herself strides in with four little girls in tutus. “And that is the most likely theory so far.”
I quickly line up the cupcakes and make sure the rainbow iced kinds are front and center for the Bishop girls to peruse. Four girls, though only two of them are Sophia’s. The other two are cousins to her daughters. “Looking to start your day with sugar, Soph?”
“Anyone who doesn’t is soft.” She stops at the counter and grins as her horde of ballerinas smear the glass with their fingers and noses. “We’re gonna need two dozen, please. Give me a mix, so the guys at the office can pick and choose what they want.”
“Two dozen.” I grab a box from beneath the counter and begin constructing it from the flat, pre-cut design it comes in. “Plus another four?” I glance to the little girls. “Or inclusive?”
“Two dozen for work. Four more for the devil children. What’s going on with your boyfriend?”
“Which one?” I take care to select a range of cakes and place them in the box without messing up the icing. “It would seem the gossip vines accuse me of having more than one.”
She snorts. “Anyone who knows anything knows you only have one. But I was talking about Jason Weatherton. Twenty-five years old, works at the local animal shelter. No record, no drama, not even a speeding ticket. But he was hit twice in as many days, so either he’s made an enemy, oryouhave.”
“Me?” I set the first full box on the counter and fold a second. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You looked pretty damn good in that gown Saturday night. Dating one man,hanging out,” she flashes a knowing smile, “with another. It was only last week you were on a date with a third. I could keep going.”
I scowl as I fill the second box, hating how my stomach whooshes with some kind of guilt. “It’s called a single woman using a dating app. We swipe, we go to dinner, we move on with our lives. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Didn’t say you did. But you’re what some consider a hot piece of—Hey, girls! Did you see that unicorn out there?” she points toward the windows overlooking the street.
“What?” Predictably, they scramble to press their faces to the windows.
“You’re a hot piece ofass,” Soph continues. “I’m a married, heterosexual woman who only wants the P, not the V. But even I peeked the other night. You lookedgood, and there are men in this town who want you to notice them.”
