Chapter 24
Triple Sorry
Tessa
The moment I walked in through the coffee shop's back door, I wanted to walk right back out again.
Skip was standing on a step stool, jabbing a metal spatula into the ceiling vent like he was probing for hidden treasure.
I stared up at the vent. "Is something…in there?"
He jumped, nearly fell, and then brandished the spatula like I'd come to steal his treasure. "You're late."
No kidding. I glanced down at the purple bottle I was still holding. It was the only reason I had ventured out in the first place. I'd sworn to hit every shop on the island if that's what it took. But in the end, I hadn't made it past store number nine.
And why? Because I'd lingered too long with Ryder Vaughn, who was doing a crazy job of distracting me.
No joke. In fact, I'd been so distracted I'd nearly blurted out my name.
And here was the craziest thing of all. I was kind of wishing I had.
The guy was clever, hot, and funny – a deadly combo if I'd ever seen it. And he'd invited me to watch a movie – not just any movie, but one of my favorites.
But…he couldn't be serious.
Or should I say…surely he couldn't be serious? Smartass.
Skip gave a loud sigh. "It's nothing to smile about."
Damn it. I was smiling. With a mental kick, I wiped the smile from my face. "Sorry."
"For what?" Skip demanded. "Being late or smiling about it?"
"Does it really matter?" I tried to look contrite. "Maybe I'm double sorry…like for both, I mean."
Hearing myself, I couldn't help but cringe. Where was my dignity?
Probably, I'd left it in Chicago, along with an apartment that might now be empty for all I knew. I'd called the property management company at least five times, but had yet to reach an actual person who could help.
I meant that literally. As far as I could tell, no live humans ever manned the phones. So I'd left several voicemails promising I'd pay if only they'd give me a few days to square away the credit card.
I hadn't received a single call back, which meant…what, exactly?
My thoughts were still churning when Skip said, "You should be triple sorry."
I blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Because you were late yesterday, too."
Obviously he meant from lunch. But this, too, was because of Ryder, who'd been standing – aka not crouching – in the middle of the road. The guy really was shameless.
Skip let out a groan. "And you're doing it again!"
Shit.
Smiling. That's what he meant.
But in my own defense, I was finding it pretty hard not to. But then, my smile disappeared for good when I suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute…if you're back here, who's manning the front?"
Someone had to be manning it, because for one thing, I didn't hear any yelling.
Skip gave a breezy wave of the spatula. "Don't worry, it's covered."
"By who?" I perked up. "Did you hire someone?"
His feet shifted on the stool. "Not exactly."
I glanced toward the connecting door. "What does that mean?"
"She just sort of…you know, started helping herself."
"You mean…to coffee?"
"And a scone, too," he said. "And then, she served the guy behind her – and then, a couple of complainers after that, so I figured, 'Why not let her run with it?'"
I stared up at him. What an asshat.
What he really meant was that the unexpected help had enabled him to run off and leave the work to somebody else.
But who?
I didn't wait to hear more. Instead, I hustled toward the swinging door, wondering what exactly I would find on the other side.
At least I knew one thing for sure.
The surprise helper wouldn't be Ryder Vaughn because he was no she. And this was putting it mildly.