Chapter 12
LEE
“You’re in a good mood,” Tyler said on Thursday morning as we pulled the sourdough out of the oven.
“Was it the whistling that gave it away?” I asked.
“And your shit-eating grin.”
“Went on a date last night,” I said. “With Chase.”
“With Chase?” he asked. “Chase Chase? Our Chase?” It was his turn to whistle, a low sound of disbelief. “I knew you guys were banging, but… Chase dates?”
I got his point. Chase gave off the same vibes as a feral cat, only less approachable.
“I was as shocked as you when he said yes,” I said. “But yeah, he dates. We’re dating. I think we’re boyfriends now.”
“Holy fucking fuckstick,” Tyler said and then blinked. “That came out wrong. I mean congratulations.”
“Very convincing.”
“Nah, I’m serious,” Tyler said. “I’m happy for you. And for him too, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I mean. He’s dating you, poor bastard.”
“Fuck you,” I said with a laugh. “Nobody twisted his arm.”
“You’ve made peanut butter cookie dough every day for the past two weeks,” Tyler said. “And you got the good hot chocolate in. I see you bribing him.”
“Shut up,” I said through my grin.
We spent the next hour getting ready for opening. When Chase turned up and made us both coffees, I took a moment to appreciate that, unlike his earlier efforts, these were actually good.
“Nice job,” I said, raising my cup in his direction.
“Whatever,” he said, but I caught a hint of a smile before he headed back out front.
“He’s getting better with the customers too,” Tyler said.
“That’s because Bobby’s matching tips for the rest of the month,” I said. “Since opening’s gone so well.”
But Tyler wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t heard Chase call someone a dick in at least three days, which was some kind of record.
Not that he insulted them to their face, but he didn’t always wait until they were out of earshot either—which was maybe why Bobby had offered to match the tips in the jar. And it looked like it was working.
The morning flew by, the bell over the door chiming steadily as customers streamed in for their coffee and cake.
Tyler had to go and help out front a couple of times when the line got too long, but otherwise Chase handled it like a pro.
It was a million miles from his first day when he’d tried to bluster his way through, and I was glad Bobby had insisted on keeping him on.
For all his weird outfits and that fucking goose, Bobby was smart when it counted.
When lunchtime rolled around, Tyler headed out front to serve and Chase came and joined me in the back. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms, watching as I hefted a sack of flour over one shoulder and carried it over to the mixer. “That’s fucking hot.”
I slapped the sack and flexed my muscles deliberately, and he shot me a grin.
“Gonna lift me up like that later?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I might not feel like it.” That was a lie. We both knew it was happening.
Chase helped himself to a handful of cookies and ate while he watched me work. I was about to suggest he eat some real food when Tyler called, “A little help?”
Chase and I exchanged a look and I sighed, wiped my hands on my apron, and said, “I’ll go.”
It was only fair since Chase was on his break.
There was a crowd out front. Well, probably about a dozen people, which was enough to fill the space in front of the counter.
They were all chatting together, pointing to the display cases and crowdsourcing opinions on what looked good.
They were all cut from the same cloth too.
The men wore button-up shirts and slacks with sharp creases ironed into them.
The women looked like they’d fallen out of a thirty-year-old Laura Ashley catalog and would be right at home on a protest line at Planned Parenthood.
None of them seemed to be in any great hurry to order, but none of them were moving so the two young guys waiting behind them could order, either.
“Can I help anyone?” I said, and an older man near the counter gave me a smile and stepped forward. He was tall, with washed-out-looking blond hair, and he had a smile. He seemed vaguely familiar, as though he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place him.
“Well, I’ve heard so much about the new bakery, we thought we might as well come and see what all the fuss is about,” he said, giving a jovial little laugh. “A snack after prayer group.” The rest of the group laughed too, like an echo.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I do have a sweet tooth,” he said. He hummed and pointed to the peanut butter cookies. “How about one of those cookies? And two brownies. But if you can cut them in half, I’d appreciate it. Gluttony’s a sin after all.” He gave a hearty chuckle that grated on my nerves.
I faked a smile. “Sure. No problem. That’ll be eight twenty-five, please.”
His brow creased for a moment before he produced his wallet and fished out three one-dollar bills and a five and set them on the counter.
I waited while he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of change.
He lined the coins up along the edge of the counter at roughly the speed of a glacier, counting aloud as he did so.
I slid his cookie into a bag and picked his brownies up and boxed them while I waited.
“I did ask for those to be cut,” the man said, his tone suggesting he didn’t trust me to do my job. He picked up the cookie bag before adding another coin to the lineup.
“Of course,” I said and called, “Hey, Chase! Can you bring me the big knife?”
Chase appeared in the doorway a few seconds later wearing an annoyed expression and clutching the big slicing knife. He went still when he saw who I was serving, then stomped forward, snatched the box of brownies out of my hand, and glared at the customer. “You can get the fuck out right now.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and the shop fell silent. The customer stared at Chase and Chase narrowed his eyes.
The man puffed out his pigeon chest. “I don’t think—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think,” Chase said. “We don’t serve assholes. You can all get out.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the group—the hand holding the knife, although I chose to think that was accidental—and the guy at the counter took a hasty step back.
I had no idea what was happening, but from the way Chase was jutting his chin out and his jaw was clenched tight, whatever his beef was with this guy, he was seriously upset.
“Pastor John?” one of the ladies said, her polite smile dropping. “What’s happening?”
The man looked between Chase and me, and I could see the second he decided to push back. “I have no idea, but I want to speak to the manager!”
My hackles rose at his tone, and not just because that was my boyfriend he was talking to. Everything about him made me pissed. I squared my shoulders and folded my arms across my chest, making the most of my bulk.
“You’re speaking to him. And I think you’d better leave,” I said. I fixed him with a stare that dared him to argue further.
There was a tense moment, and then he snatched the crumpled bills off the counter. “Fine. But I’ll make sure everybody at Goose Run First Baptist Church knows not to come here!”
“Good,” Chase snapped. “We don’t want your money.” Then he leaned over the counter and yanked the bag with the cookie out of the guy’s hand. “You didn’t pay for that, asshole.”
The man scooped up his coins and stormed out of the store. The rest of the group straggled after him, chattering among themselves, and I wondered how Bobby would take the news that we’d just alienated an entire congregation.
Tyler threw me a wide-eyed look, and I shrugged.
I didn’t know what had just happened, but I was learning that when Chase was pissed, he usually had a reason for it.
Whether it was a good reason was a whole other conversation, but he didn’t pull shit like throwing out a bunch of customers just for the fun of it.
While Tyler served the two young guys who had been waiting, I put a hand on Chase’s shoulder and steered him into the kitchen. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”
“What, so you can yell at me about turning away customers?” he muttered, pulling out of my grip.
“Maybe,” I said. “But seeing as I don’t live in Goose Run, I figure you must have a reason.”
Some of the fight seemed to drain out of him, and he leaned back against the prep table. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Try me,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He stood there with his head down, fiddling with the strings that were tied around the front of his apron for a moment before meeting my gaze.
“That’s Wilder’s old man. He threw him out when he knocked up Cassidy and hasn’t spoken to him since.
If it wasn’t for Danny’s grandma, Wilder would have been out on the street. ”
“Jesus,” I said softly. That explained why he’d seemed familiar.
Chase gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah. He’s a pastor, but he still pulled that shit.” His jaw tightened. “Fuck anyone who treats their kids like that.” There was something in the way he said it, raw and vulnerable, that told me this wasn’t about Wilder.
It made me want to reach out and hug him and tell him I was sorry for whatever the hell had happened to him and Cash. But this was Chase, and he didn’t do hugs unless he was the one offering.
So instead I gestured to the door. “That’s fair. If you say he’s banned, he’s banned. Do you wanna go serve so Tyler can have his lunch break?”
Chase eyed me warily. “You’re not gonna tell Bobby to fire me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Chase. If I didn’t ask him to fire you when you were the world’s rudest, shittiest barista, I’m not gonna ask him to fire you now.”