Chapter 21
21
Sybil
At the sound of the blaring alarm on my phone, I rolled over, groggily slamming my finger against the screen until the noise stopped, but by the time it did, my brain had caught up to my body and the joyful, sleepy haze was gone. It was five thirty in the morning on a Saturday, and I wanted to reject this new reality. I glanced at the screen on my phone.
Sybil: Why do you all get up this early on the regular?
Emi: Good time to run.
Marcus: Just how my body clock works.
Deacon: I got home from my date twenty minutes ago.
Emi: Why are you up this early?
I pulled the blankets over my head and muttered against the fabric, “I have no idea.”
The phone chimed again with my reminder to get up early to make it across town by six thirty for the food festival. The night before, it had seemed like such an ideal time for Kieran and me to be seen while I helped staff their booth, but in the cold light of morning (or rather, the lack of light since the sun wasn’t up yet), I had regrets.
Sybil: Because I make bad decisions
Emi: I’m guessing Deacon’s date is thinking the same thing.
Deacon: My date made excellent decisions. You might say she made several rounds of good decisions.
I groaned against the mattress and rolled out, stumbling down the hall to shower. I’d asked Grace if I could crash in their guest room since it was much closer to the festival than Emi’s place.
“Hey there,” Warren said when we ran into each other in the hall. He was dressed head to toe in spandex with wraparound sunglasses perched atop a bright orange beanie. “Grace and I are getting in a quick ten-mile run before the day gets going. What are you doing up so early?”
“I’m helping my…” Boyfriend? Lover? Fake and slightly fraudulent life partner? “Helping Kieran at a food festival.”
He saluted, holding two fingers to his temple. “Will leave you to it!” I loved that about Warren—there would be no follow-up questions. Grace or Mom or any of my friends would have made me explain more about my decision to help, to work at the donut shop, or to get up hours ahead of my normal wake-up time, but Warren took the world at face value. I was glad he’d be joining the family.
By the time I made it across town to the food festival and found parking, I was only fifteen minutes late, which I considered a win, and by then, Kieran was too busy getting the booth ready to give me any real side-eye.
“Hey!” Lila greeted me with a smile, her piercings catching the morning light, and handed me a bright blue T-shirt matching her own. “Kieran hates it, but Granddad always said it helped if we were matching. We didn’t have any extra, so I brought you one of mine. Hopefully that’s okay.”
I accepted it and stripped out of my T-shirt, revealing a thin tank top that left very little to anyone’s imagination. I caught Kieran’s eyes skirting over my chest before I pulled on the T-shirt. Still got it. Though “it” in this case was a T-shirt that was vaguely pornographic in how tightly it clung to my boobs.
“Sorry,” Lila said sheepishly. “I know it’s a little small.”
“No worries. Put me to work. Where can I help?”
Kieran looked frazzled, flicking his gaze at his watch every few minutes. The booth was fun—we were in a corner, and they’d loaded trays of donuts into a portable cart with a mini version of the store’s display case lit on the counter. “Can you keep the case stocked and help with boxes?” He motioned to the mountain of cardboard in the corner, the boxes the same blue as our shirts.
“Sure thing, boss.” I searched the counter for rubber gloves, making note of the donuts and also wondering how inappropriate it would be for me to have one, since I’d skipped breakfast in my effort to be just barely not on time.
“I’m not the boss,” he grumbled, checking the iPad and a small cashbox.
“Sure you are,” Lila said.
“O Captain! my Captain!” I exclaimed, earning a laugh from Lila.
“It’s too early for the two of you together,” Kieran said, eyeing the door.
“Oh, sweetie,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. I didn’t expect the firm muscle of his abs under my touch when I squeezed. “But is it too early for the two of us alone?” Lila giggled again, but Kieran tensed under my touch, long enough that I was certain this ruse of ours was not going to work out. No one would believe we were into each other. Hell, at this rate, no one would believe he even liked me, but just when I was about to pull away and embarrassment at the rejection began to take over, he spoke.
“It’s never too early for you.” He paused before adding “muffin” in a voice so robotic, I questioned if he’d learned the word from a Speak and Spell, but still, he played along.
Lila doubled over in laughter, and I could only imagine the expression on her brother’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But, Kieran…you look like you’re doing calculus in your head. Loosen up.”
“What else do you want? I called her muffin,” he said, shrugging out of the embrace. “You two ready?”
I gave a thumbs-up that earned me a tight nod.
···
“Hey, you’re the guy from that video!” One woman pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out for her friend after a few clicks. “May, this is the guy I told you about! With the lottery ticket and the donuts.”
I watched the back of Kieran’s head, which was pretty much all I’d seen of him for the previous hour, even though the festival had started slowly. The few people who had mentioned the video had been met with what I imagined felt like a cool acknowledgment. And these two seemed to be no different. Kieran gave a quick nod and then asked them what they wanted, moving them briskly to order two donuts before walking away.
“I’ll be back,” Lila said, pointing toward the restrooms and leaving Kieran and me alone in the tight space.
“Can I say something?” I asked, stepping up to the table where Lila had been occupied with the iPad and money box.
“Would it matter if I said no?” He reluctantly turned away from the nonexistent line and seemed to really see me for the first time, his eyes dipping quickly to the Joe’s Donuts logo stretched across my chest.
“You’re right,” I said, stepping close so we wouldn’t be overheard. “You know we’re doing this thing to get business for your shop, right?”
I’d have bet money Kieran wanted to roll his eyes at that moment, but he just nodded. “Yep.”
“Well,” I said, inhaling the scent of his bodywash, a scent that mingled really perfectly with the smells of baking and the booth around us. “That might be easier if you didn’t immediately shut down any interest in the lottery and donut thing.”
“I didn’t shut them down,” he whispered, looking around. “I acknowledged they were correct and then sold them donuts. It’s what I’m here to do.”
“Yeah, but…” I raised my hands in exasperation. “Have you ever studied sales?”
“Yeah, lots of sales classes offered in medical school,” he said.
“Sarcasm.” I was wondering again if the playful and earnest guy I’d met the first night was an illusion. “Shocking.” This tense, kind-of-pretentious guy was less fun and much more common. Two other women with a young child in tow approached us, looking between us and the phone.
“Can you let me?”
“Let you what?”
“Hi,” I said brightly, nudging Kieran out of the way with my hip as they approached. “What a pretty pink dress!” I made eye contact first with the little girl, who twirled and then used her hand to make a chopping motion, the pink fabric twirling around her, giggling. “I’m a princess and a warrior,” she said.
“Good morning,” I said to the adults. “What can we get for you?”
I saw Kieran’s hand twitch in my periphery, certainly ready to reclaim control of this interaction.
The two women conferred while the little girl stepped forward to identify six or seven donuts she wanted, earning laugher from the women. “Well,” I said. “That might be too many donuts for a princess warrior—how would you carry them all and fight the bad guys?”
The little girl nodded sagely. “Lady, I am the bad guy.”
This girl was my hero.
“Bad guys get one donut,” one of the women said. “We’ll take one of those.” She pointed to a pink frosted cake donut. Kieran pulled it from the case and handed it to the woman in a waxed paper sheet while we talked. The woman handed it to the little girl, asking, “Aren’t you two the couple from that video?”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Kieran said, and I’d never wanted to side-eye anyone harder in my life. I settled for letting my foot fall on top of his.
“Yes,” I said, tapping on the screen of the iPad without hitting the total button. “We are. He’s a charmer, but the real draw was the donuts,” I joked, resting a palm on his forearm.
Both women giggled, and the second studied the case. “That video was so romantic,” she said. “Can you convince my husband to say something like that about me?”
Kieran gave a flat smile, and I poked him in the side, urging him to give a genuine human response. “I’m sure he already does,” Kieran finally added. “We’re not always good at voicing it. But I bet he thinks it every day.” The response surprised me—it didn’t sound sarcastic, and the woman’s face flushed as her grin widened.
“You know what? Give us a dozen. We’ll take them home for him and the other kids. Maybe that will remind him to say loving things out loud once in a while,” she said to her friend, cheeks still pink as Kieran loaded a box with assorted options from the tray, and I rang up the purchase. “You know,” she said, leaning in, “he’s really very sweet, isn’t he?” She tapped her credit card on the screen.
I glanced at Kieran, who was listening patiently to the little girl explain the expectations of princess warriors, particularly that you had to seem to be only a princess at first. Then they wouldn’t expect the attack, because people think girls can’t fight. “Are you going to fight me?” Kieran asked her, handing the box to the two women.
“Nah. You seem all right,” she said with a wave to Kieran. “But don’t forget, sometimes beautiful princesses are dangerous.”
He nodded and looked at me dramatically. “Believe me, I know.”
The woman gave me another grin. “He’s sweet. And he’s cute, too,” she mouthed as they walked away. “What a keeper.”
I waited until they’d moved on to another booth before crossing my arms over my chest and looking at Kieran. “Did you see the difference?”
He grumbled under his breath and restocked the case, replacing the donuts he’d pulled for the box. “I’ve never been good at that kind of thing.” He worked for another moment, and I admired the stiff set of his shoulders until they relaxed. “I would worry I’d lose the sale with small talk, and we need every sale we can get.” His movements didn’t slow. I studied the muscles across his back as he moved, and latched on to what felt like honesty in his words. Maybe he wasn’t intentionally grumpy and shadowy, but just unsure how to be bright.
“Hm,” I said. “I was born for small talk.” Teachers constantly told me to stop talking, and my mom reminded me basically daily not to speak to strangers. The warnings never worked. I still did it. It was probably the reason I was standing here now. “I’ll help. Trust me.”
“What if you’re one of those beautiful princesses who are dangerous?”
“Beautiful, huh?” I didn’t get a chance to tease him any further before his sister returned.
“Did I miss anything good?” Lila settled back behind the table, rearranging the iPad how she’d had it before her brother took her spot.
“Just figuring out how to work as a team,” I said. I couldn’t shake the shift in his voice, the earnestness when he talked about losing sales. It made me want to make sure this was the most popular booth at the festival. When Kieran turned and our eyes met, I held up my palm. “Dream team, right?” His gaze paused on my hand, and I worried he’d leave me hanging.
“Oh my gosh,” a high-pitched voice exclaimed as a group moved to us from the neighboring booth. “It’s them!”
I grinned, wiggling my fingers, now even more worried he was going to leave me hanging, but his palm met mine, firm and warm. It was surely just the tight T-shirt causing the butterflies that swooped in my stomach.
“Dream team,” he said back before turning to the group, voice lighter than before, if not completely natural. “You’re right. It’s us,” he said, giving me a small smile. “Welcome. What can we get you?”