Chapter 13
13
i’ll bring the cookies
“You went full Cupid in here,” Wednesday said as she tied her apron, eyeing the pink and red explosion that had taken over our usually cozy space.
The morning light filtered through Wilde Brew’s windows, catching on the heart-shaped decorations I’d hung with way too much enthusiasm last night.
Maybe I should’ve waited until the sun was up to make those creative decisions, however, because in the harsh light of day, it was a bit... much.
But hey, if we wanted to attract a serial killer who targeted couples in love, subtlety wasn’t exactly the goal.
I shrugged, adjusting a string of paper hearts that hung above the register. “Valentine’s Day is our busiest season, and February is almost here. Gotta lean into it.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirked, reaching past me to grab a stack of to-go cups. “And this has nothing to do with a certain broody regular?”
My hands stilled on the decorations. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. You never did tell me why you two were in that storage room with him yesterday, and now the shop looks like Cupid threw up in here? I’m not blind.”
I busied myself with wiping down the already spotless counter. “You’re reading way too much into this.”
“Am I, though?”
Before I could answer, the bell above the door chimed, and there he was.
Jax walked in like his new status as my fake boyfriend meant he co-owned the place. Not true, and also, not really unusual for him, now that I thought about it.
What was unusual was the time—nearly two hours earlier than he normally arrived.
And since I knew he’d gone out for his regular Nightly Blade Patrol after we’d finished up with Chris last night, shouldn’t he still be sleeping?
Maybe, like me, he’d had a hard time resting considering our new goal. It wasn’t like I’d allow myself to think it was because he was excited to see me.
I caught his eye, and my stomach did that annoying flip thing it always did when he looked at me.
Only now, it was worse because soon, we’d be holding hands and staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.
It was all in the name of catching a killer, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it, right?
My life had gotten so weird.
“Morning,” I called out, probably a touch too loudly.
His eyes swept over the decorations, one brow lifting in silent judgment. “You’ve been busy.”
“Gotta sell the romance,” I said with a wink.
His jaw ticked, but I caught the ghost of a smile before he turned away.
A few of our regulars were watching this exchange with interest, and I couldn’t blame them. Most of them weren’t used to Jax, and the ones who were knew he rarely spoke to anyone—let alone engaged in my brand of peppy chitchat.
Especially not this early, and definitely not without having at least one cup of coffee first.
Looked like we were off to a good start with our show.
“The usual?” I asked, already reaching to the back of my quirky collection for the one mug I was convinced he’d never seen before.
He nodded, then did something completely unexpected. Instead of heading straight for his corner table to put down his stuff, he walked right up to the counter.
Like, right up to it.
Close enough that I could smell his cologne—something crisp and clean that made my knees go weak.
“You look tired,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I blinked. “Um… Thanks?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I meant, did you sleep at all after last night?”
My cheeks warmed as the illogical side of my brain turned that into an unfounded innuendo, but then logic prevailed, and I caught his true meaning.
Oh . Right—in addition to how late they’d stayed, we’d also gone to the vigil, and that had been really hard.
My heart squeezed. He was checking on me.
“I’m fine,” I said softly. “Just... everything is kind of a lot right now, ya know?”
He nodded once, and then he reached across the counter.
I immediately ceased to exist as he trailed a delicate finger over my cheek, brushing back a loose strand of hair that’d escaped from my messy bun.
The touch was brief, barely there, but it sent electricity zipping through my entire body—and then straight into his.
How did I know that?
Because his blue eyes had darkened in a deliciously stormy way at the moment of impact, and it absolutely could not have been a simple trick of the light.
And judging by the way Wednesday nearly dropped the pitcher of water she was using to fill a coffee machine?
We weren’t the only ones who felt it.
I forced myself to focus on making his coffee, trying to ignore the whispers from the table of college students near the window.
This was what we wanted, right? People noticing us? Talking about us?
So why did my hands shake as I filled his mug?
“Here,” I said, sliding the mug toward him. “Extra dark and broody, just how you like it.”
He took the mug with his gaze locked on mine. “Thanks.”
And then he just... stood there.
Watching me.
Like he was trying to figure something out.
“What?” I asked, swiping the back of my hand over my cheek in case I had stray coffee grounds on my face.
“Just wondering if you’re sure about this.”
I glanced around before I responded, verifying that no one was close enough to hear. “About the plan?”
He nodded.
Chris was working hard to crack the phone, and now, all we had to do was play our roles. Maybe we’d get lucky, and The Villain would spot us by chance, but I was hoping Chris’s efforts gave us a faster way to step into the killer’s crosshairs.
NBD.
We totally had this.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” I replied with absolute conviction.
His eyes searched mine for a moment longer before he finally stepped back. “We should talk. About... logistics.”
“Logistics,” I repeated. I’d wanted to talk about that last night, but he’d put me off in favor of prowling the streets with his hood and his swords.
Selfish.
“My table when you’re free?” he asked.
I nodded a little too eagerly. “I’ll bring the cookies.”
He sighed, but it wasn’t his usual exasperated sigh. This one had a hint of fondness to it. “If you insist.”
“I do. And by the way, are you ever going to look at that mug?”
He didn’t look down for a moment, almost like he was intentionally doing it just to mess with me.
It was working. I exhaled through my nose and used my eyes to gesture at it, and he actually grinned before finally dragging his gaze to the mug in his hand.
And then… the grin fell from his face like a brick, replaced with the flattest look I’d ever seen.
“What? You don’t like it?” I deserved an Oscar for the straight face I wore.
Jax held up the charcoal gray mug with an illustration of The Blade painted on the side, glancing around before hissing, “Where did you even get this?”
“Etsy,” I replied, then held up a hand. “And before you ask, Chris got it for me months ago, before I knew… anything. He just knew how I felt about Slate Harbor’s favorite superhero.”
Oh, but the look that man gave me.
It was pure, concentrated disapproval.
The existence of the mug, how much I enjoyed serving it to him, and the smug smile I wore? He was deeply unimpressed.
He walked away without another word—exiting the stage in all his broody glory.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Wednesday sidled up to me the second Jax was out of earshot, her eyes wide as saucers. “Okay, what was that? ”
“What was what?”
“That!” She gestured wildly at Jax’s retreating form. “The face touching? The intense eye contact? The way he actually spoke in full sentences? And did my eyes deceive me, or did he actually linger at the counter like he didn’t wanna leave you?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Maybe he’s just in a good mood.”
Or, he was, until he got a peek at that mug.
“Luna Mary Elizabeth Wilde.” Wednesday crossed her arms. “Spill the tea. Right now.”
Chuckling, I glanced at my collection of sticky notes to see if there was anything urgent to attend to.
That was part of my system—if it wasn’t urgent, interesting, new, novel, or challenging, I wasn’t gonna get it done. Not without finding a way to make it one of those things, anyway.
Finding nothing—thank goodness—I moved to the bakery case and began arranging some cookies on a plate. “There’s no tea to spill.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” She narrowed her eyes. “But just know that I’m onto you. And I’ll be watching. Closely .”
I laughed, picking up the plate of cookies. “Okay, but can you watch the front while you’re at it so I can share these with him?”
“And she says there’s no tea to spill,” Wednesday teased. Then she nodded like the amazing employee and friend that she was. “Kidding. Of course I will.”
Thanking her with a mock glare, I made my way to Jax’s table.
He had his laptop open, but he wasn’t typing. Instead, he was staring at the screen with deep lines etched into his brow.
“Cookie for your thoughts?” I asked, sliding into the chair across from him and putting the plate between us.
He glanced up. “Just doing some thinking.”
“About your mug?”
His eyes narrowed. “No, you menace. Mostly about how we’re supposed to make this look real.”
My heart sank a little, despite my inner hopeless romantic trying to save it with a well-tossed life preserver.
But did he mean it’d be hard to make it look real because he didn’t have any real feelings that would help us pull it off? It was no secret that I wasn’t lacking in the crush department, but if that wasn’t the case for him…
I shook it off, knowing it wouldn’t help to get carried away. “Well, that smooth move at the counter was a good start. Very boyfriend-like.”
His eyebrows flicked together for a second, a clear indication that he had no idea what I was talking about.
“The thing with my hair.” I lifted a hand, demonstrating what he’d done to my own cheek. “My face. Ring any bells?”
I saw his throat bob as he swallowed, and I was pretty sure that feeling in my chest was the result of my heart returning to its original elevation.
“I didn’t even realize…” he trailed off, and then his face shifted to one that almost suggested disbelief.
Had that move surprised him as much as it’d surprised me?
“We need rules,” he blurted.
I went for a cookie, feeling like it was the right time. “Rules?”
He pushed his laptop aside. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to be smart about it.”
“Okay...” I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the table. “What do you have in mind?”
“Boundaries, for starters.”
“Ah, I bet you love a good brick wall.”
He lowered his chin. “We should tell each other what we’re comfortable with and what we’re not.”
I tried very hard not to think about all the things I was comfortable with if they had anything to do with Jax.
And the things I wasn’t?
Well, shoot.
As long as we were staying alive, let’s just say there wasn’t much by way of PDA-serial-killer-bait that I would say no to.
“Makes sense,” I said, proud of how steady my voice was. “I’m listening.”
He shifted in his seat. “Public displays of affection. We need to establish what’s acceptable.”
“Right. Because The Valentine Villain targets couples who are basically all over each other.”
More shifting.
Oops.
“Exactly,” he agreed, and now it was his turn to reach for a cookie.
“So...” I dragged the word out. “What are you comfortable with?”
He bit his bottom lip as he thought about it, and yes, the move absolutely had me hoping he’d start with things that involved lips.
“Hand holding,” he said finally, dashing my dreams. “And, I guess... hugging?”
“Sheesh, don’t sound so excited. There’s no harm in a hug, right?”
He angled his head as he chewed, bringing his free hand parallel to the table before tilting it in an “Eh ” sort-of move.
I chuckled. “You’ll get used to them.”
“And… what are your thoughts on kissing?” he ventured, his eyes going all swirly and dark again.
But before I could answer, the muted TV mounted in the corner caught my attention. Or rather, the breaking news banner that scrolled across the screen did.
Valentine Villain Causes More Couples to Cancel Dates This Week
The good vibes at our table disappeared the second Jax followed my gaze, and his mood turned lethal as he read the headline. I saw his jaw clench as the rest of his body went still, almost like he was already making tiny adjustments to our approach.
“Guess it’s not surprising,” I whispered. “Four couples in less than two weeks would make anyone nervous to go out.”
He eyed me carefully. “But not you?”
I shook my head.
Jax’s hand found mine across the table, and this time, there was nothing fake about the gesture.
He squeezed once, grounding me.
“We’ll stop him,” he said, both his voice and his eyes reflecting the fierce promise.
At that moment, I probably should’ve been nervous. Like I’d said, anyone would be. But with a guy like Jax sitting across from me—still holding my hand—it was kind of hard to feel anything other than completely safe.
Dangerous mission, or no.
I squeezed back before forcing my brain back to logistics. “About those rules…”
“Whatever it takes,” he cut in. “Whatever we need to do to make this convincing, I’m in.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded once, sharp and decisive. “But we start slow, build up to it. Make it look natural.”
“Like we’re actually falling in love,” I murmured.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
I glanced down at our joined hands, still resting on the table between us.
This was just pretend.
Just an act to catch a killer.
“When do we start?” I asked, looking up at him through my lashes.
His expression softened. “We already have.”
His fingers tightened slightly, like he was debating whether this was too much. But then, before I could overanalyze it, he lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
And as if to prove his point.
The gesture was so smooth, so natural, that for a second, I forgot this was all for show. Truth be told, I forgot my own name. And his. And what year it was or who was president.
What were EMTs trying to determine when they asked those questions?
Oh, yeah—alert and oriented.
I was not that.
And then I caught Wednesday’s slack-jawed expression from behind the counter, and reality came crashing back.
We were doing this to catch a killer.
Did I have very real feelings for my fake boyfriend?
Abso-freaking-lutely.
But was I planning to let that ruin our ruse before we got our guy?
Nope.
And I reminded myself of that fact over and over again as Jax’s thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. His eyes never left mine, and still, I held strong.
Because what was the point of forcing my way onto Team Blade—or creating Team Blade in the first place—if I was just going to put our missions at risk in the name of a crush?