Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dex
A ria and I only spoke about orders and café business the rest of the day, but there was so much communication between us whenever she slipped past me to the storeroom or office or whenever our eyes met under the lights of the order window, something that always brought a sweet smile to her face. It felt as if we’d spoken volumes. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way about someone, but then, maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. I’d felt a connection even out on the dock, both of us dripping with cold seawater. Me, red with shame about what my bird had done, and her, red with anger about what my bird had done. It seemed I now owed Gus another can of sardines instead of a harsh lecture about manners.
Neither of us stopped for our lunch break. Without verbally planning it, we were both waiting until after the café closed for the day to sit for lunch. I started on tomorrow’s prep, and Aria helped with cleanup so Terry and Linda could go home. I kept my ears peeled for the front door to open and shut for the last time and then for the light footsteps that followed.
Even her sigh of exhaustion made every inch of me react. “Good business today?” I decided to start with non-sexy conversation, mostly out of self-preservation.
She stopped at the work counter and picked up some of the celery I’d just chopped. “I haven’t added up the receipts, but yeah.”
“There’s still some quiche and salad,” I said.
“Hmm, sounds good. People were raving about your quiche, by the way.”
We were having a casual chat that was so fraught with romantic tension, the words were practically getting caught in it. I plated some quiche and salad, and Aria poured us two glasses of blueberry lemonade, a café favorite.
Another round of awkward silence surrounded us as we sat down at a table with our food. One of the lights above the table kept flickering. “There’s that darn fickle light again. I’ve got a spare bulb in the back.”
“I can change it after we eat,” I said.
“I don’t want to eat under a strobe,” she said with a laugh. It was tinged with nerves. “You eat your lunch. You haven’t taken a break all day. I can fix it quickly.”
Aria disappeared in the back and returned quickly with a lightbulb. She turned off the light strand and pulled over a chair.
“I could do it without the chair,” I pointed out.
“Nobody likes a braggart,” she teased as she stepped up on the chair. She removed the bulb. I got up to take it from her. Her sweater inched up to show the smooth skin of her stomach as she reached up to screw in the new bulb. It went in crooked. “Shoot.” She turned the bulb to unscrew it and start again, but it was stubborn.
“Aria, let me do it,” I said.
“Got it,” she said triumphantly. She hadn’t expected the bulb to release so quickly. She flailed and grabbed at the strand of lights to keep from falling. I shot behind her, and as the light string broke loose, she fell off the chair … right into my arms. A few of the bulbs broke as the light strand hit the counter and other obstacles. We both sat there stunned for a moment assessing the damage, which, considering it started as a flickering bulb, was quite extensive.
Aria started shaking in my arms, and I worried that she was crying until a laugh seeped out and then another. Within seconds, we were both laughing hard.
“Of course, I’m enjoying this whole thing far too much,” she said, kicking her feet up and down as they hung over my arm, “but you can put me down now. That way I can face my humiliation for being so stupidly stubborn with both feet on the ground.”
I lowered her feet. “You know what? Let’s eat first.” She took my hand and led me back to the table. We sat down to eat. She sipped her lemonade and licked her bottom lip, a gesture that had my full attention. “So, tell me about yourself. I know you were in the army and you can cook and you have a pet gull and a friend named Quinn, who is in desperate need of your help, but tell me something I don’t know.”
“Wish there was something exciting to tell you to add to my autobiography, but you already know a lot about me with just those few details. However, I did spend some time in Taiwan, working in a hotel, and I rented out surfboards to tourists on a beach in Australia for a year. I also worked as a mountain guide in the Alps.”
She laughed. “Gee, I wish I had something exciting to add to my autobiography,” she said in a deep voice.
“I don’t sound like that,” I said. “Do I?”
Aria laughed. “You’ve had an amazing life already. Quite the nomad.”
“That’s me. Never planting roots, as my mom likes to say.”
“Kellan said your mom lives in Connecticut with her sister. I met her once on a FaceTime chat.” Aria’s lips turned down. “She’s going to hate me now.”
“Nah, she doesn’t keep that tight of a watch on what Kel and I are up to. I was close to Dad, and Kel was closer to Mom, but once we grew into adults, she was too busy with her new life on the East Coast.” I leaned back and looked at her. “What about you? I know that you own a café and you were dating my brother and you risk life and limb to make sure Oscar gets his sandwiches. You have four younger sisters … oh, and you’re terrible at changing lightbulbs …”
She laughed again. It was definitely a sound I was starting to love.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I continued.
“Hmm, I love to dip pieces of chocolate in peanut butter. I don’t like clowns but then who does? I’m not the biggest fan of ice cream.” She nodded at my surprised look. “Weird, I know.” Her brown eyes turned up in thought. “And sometimes I wish I’d been born second or third because while it comes with some perks, being the oldest is hard. And a boy named Dylan Harmon was my first real kiss, and by real, I mean it was on the mouth. We were fourteen. It happened after a school dance, and as far as I was concerned, we were destined to be together from that moment on, right up until I spotted him buying Emily Saunders a hot dog at the baseball game a week later. Then he reached for her hand, and my devastation was complete.”
“Dylan was an idiot,” Dex said.
“I agree.” She took a bite of quiche and held up her empty fork. “Brilliant by the way. You were right about the smoky gouda. Since we’re telling our deepest secrets ...” she started.
I raised a brow at her. “Deepest? Really? Not sure if a kiss after a school dance could be labeled deepest .”
“So, you’re not going to tell me what you were looking for out on the cove,” she said.
I pushed the salad around with my fork. “I won’t get into specifics—mostly for your safety,” I added, then instantly regretted using that phrase.
Aria sat up straighter. “Those two thugs? Are they looking for the same thing?”
“They were. It’s something of great value, but I don’t think you have to worry about them anymore. They left town with empty pockets, disappointed frowns and a severely sprained ankle.”
“Then the danger is gone, right?”
I hated that the conversation had gone this direction. These were the kinds of details about my life that gave credence to everything Kellan said and thought about me. “I can’t be a hundred percent sure. Like I said, the thing I’m looking for is worth a lot of money.” I put down my fork and took hold of her hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or your sisters or this café.” I meant every word.
Her brown gaze went through me and settled right in my chest.
“This all feels a little nuts, a little impulsive. I only just broke up with your brother this morning. I’ve still got earrings to return. Throw in the extra thorny detail that you’re going to be my employee—” Her laugh sounded sad. “Just saying all that out loud feels like the biggest load of dirty laundry ever thrown into one basket.” She curled her thumb around my hand to hold it tighter. “We’re going to take this slow, right? I’m still in a state of shock about everything and?—”
“Slow as you want, Aria. One day at a time, as my old man used to say.”
Strands of her shiny copper hair had come loose from the knot at the back of her head. I reached over and pushed the ones hanging over her cheek back behind her ear. My fingers brushed her soft skin lightly and lingered behind her ear.
She closed her eyes and sighed softly at my touch. Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away, and she opened her eyes. “Is that part of your going slow plan? Because we might be working with different definitions.”
“That’s my idea of going slow, but feel free to tell me to back off when needed,” I said.
She reached for my hand again. “I’m pretty sure that won’t happen often. I hate to bring up a mood killer, but I need to clean up the catastrophe I made.”
“Yep, that’s a mood killer, but I can top it. I’ve got to cut onions. But first, I’ll help you put your café back together.”