Chapter 11 #2
That got a bark of laughter from Mr. Woods, behind me in line.
“Always with the jokes,” Graham muttered, trying to play it off. “Cute.”
“Bold choice opening across from the library,” Eliza added, taking the next customer’s order. “You’ll have to keep the noise down. All those food critics whispering in hushed tones.”
Graham chuckled, but it was stiff. “Eliza, always a pleasure.” He stood to go, acknowledging me with a nod that was less polite and more dismissive.
“Graham,” I said, nodding back. My voice was calm, yet my jaw was clenched. Watching him walk away stirred something primal, protective.
He paused briefly, perhaps expecting Eliza to say more, but she was already focused on her next task—her energy shifting, but not fading. I watched him go, feeling a flicker of relief and something sharper, protectively stirring in my chest.
“Next!” Eliza called, pivoting with perfect poise and absolutely zero chill beneath the surface. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wouldn't look at me.
I waved Mr. and Mrs. Woods and the rest of the line in front of me and waited until she handed off their drinks before stepping up to the window. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, too fast.
“Eliza.”
She sighed, finally meeting my gaze. “No, I’m not okay.
That was a nightmare. Thank you for witnessing it in real time.
” She wiped a spot on the counter with unnecessary force.
“I hate how smug he is. Like he thinks he still has some hold on me. Like he knows something no one else does. And the line today? Really? What the hell was that?”
“Forget the line. They’re a bunch of gossips. Graham is nothing. Don’t worry about him.”
Her shoulders dropped an inch. “How can I not?”
“I know what I see. And I see someone strong enough to slice through him with her words alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter me, I’m already exhausted.”
I grinned. “I wasn’t flattering you. I’m just trying not to kiss your smart mouth through this window.”
That got her. She bit her lip, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re irresistible. Kind of a problem.”
She shook her head, but there was a hint of relief in her eyes now, as if my words had chipped away at some of the tension.
The distant hum of conversation felt softer, almost fading into the background for a moment.
I leaned in a little bit, letting the silence hang between us, comfortable for once.
The line was gone now, the last few customers lingering on the sidewalk and picnic tables with their drinks and a thirst for gossip. I didn’t care. I just wanted to see her smile again—really smile.
“Want me to come by after the lunch rush?” I asked. “Bring you something to eat? Give your sarcasm a break?”
She looked at me for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Yeah. Okay. But only if there’s pie involved.”
“Cherry,” I said. “Obviously.”
She snorted. “Fine. But if you’re bringing pie, better bring two slices, I’m not sharing.”
“Are we soulmates? I don’t believe in sharing dessert,” I joked, earning a small smile.
“Maybe we are,” she murmured, cheeks pink as she slid my takeout cup of coffee across the counter.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” I said. “But if you need anything…”
She looked up, eyes meeting mine. “I know where to find you.”
I smiled. “Don’t forget it.”
Then I stepped back.
She didn’t say anything. Just watched me go with that little half-smile that made my stomach twist in the best way.
From the tables, someone muttered, “God, kiss her already.”
Eliza called back without missing a beat. “Maybe he will. Tune in next week.”
As I walked away, the tension in my chest didn’t ease. Something about Graham—about the way he looked at her like he still had a say in her life—made me want to head to his restaurant and say screw it to being polite.
I didn’t.
Not yet.
But if he kept hovering around her like that, I wasn’t sure how long my patience would last.
I didn’t go straight back inside the Pennywhistle after leaving the Coffee Cabin. Instead, I stood outside the back door for a moment, hand on the knob, breathing in the sharp, pine-tinged morning air like it might settle something in me. It didn’t.
Graham’s smug face was still burned into my retinas.
The way he’d brushed past me like I didn’t exist. Like I was nothing but another background prop in whatever performance he thought he was starring in.
And that look Eliza had given me—like she wanted to disappear—was enough to make my jaw clench all over again.
I finally pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen, where the sounds of breakfast prep were already in full swing—eggs sizzling, a whisk clinking against a metal bowl, someone humming along to the classic rock playlist Grandma insisted on.
I found her at the far end of the counter, rolling out pie dough like she was preparing for battle.
“Morning,” I said, trying to shake off the last of my irritation.
She glanced up. “You look like someone just told you we’re out of bacon.”
“Worse,” I muttered and headed for the coffee machine.
The kitchen crew greeted me with nods and a few knowing looks—probably because I was radiating whatever blend of “annoyed” and “protective” that I hadn’t fully managed to swallow down.
I tossed my takeout cup into the trash, poured myself another cup of coffee, and leaned against the counter, scrolling to Eliza’s name in my messages. I had to check on her.
Me: You good?
The three dots blinked for a second, then stopped.
I stared at the screen, as if it might offer some kind of explanation.
When it didn’t, I slid the phone back into my pocket and took a long sip of coffee, the burn a welcome distraction.
I busied myself checking the day’s orders and reviewing the shift schedule, but the moment kept replaying in my head—Graham leaning into the window like he owned it.
Like he still had some kind of claim on her.
He didn’t.
I knew that.
But watching him act like he did made my blood simmer.
“Eliza’s working?” Grandma asked casually as she slid a tray of pie shells into the fridge.
I grunted in the affirmative.
She looked up again, sharper this time. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I said too quickly. Then sighed. “Yes. Kind of. Graham was there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That boy again? My good friend Eleanor Woods said he’s nothing but trouble. He did a real number on her granddaughter back when they were in school. Hmph.”
“Yep. I do not like him.”
“Someone needs to remind him he’s not as charming as he thinks he is.”
I smirked. “You volunteering?”
She wiped her hands on a dish towel and gave me a look that was half pride, half challenge. “I’d pay money to see him try that smug act on me.”
That made me laugh—finally, a real one. Grandma always knew how to cut straight through the noise.
But underneath the amusement, the unease still lingered.
Because the truth was, Eliza hadn’t told anyone about Graham. And for whatever reason, she’d told me. Trusted me with that truth. And now here I was, standing in my own kitchen, wishing I could do more than glower at a man who hadn’t earned a single second of her time.
I texted again.
Me: If you need a break later, I’ll bring you a pie. Or a milkshake. Or both. Forget waiting until after lunch.
No dots this time.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket and grabbed a clean towel to polish off the counter by the pass window. I could hear the morning rush building out in the dining room—forks clinking, someone laughing, the front bell chiming.
But my focus was shot.
Because the truth was, I didn’t just want to bring her pie.
I wanted to be the one who made her feel safe. Wanted. Like she was more than the scars she carried.
And if Graham thought he was going to stroll into town and try to mess with her?
He’d have to go through me first.