Chapter 42 Avery
AVERY
The town clerk’s office didn’t open until ten so I decided to work in the bakery with Beck for a few hours.
I should have been tired after what Dane had done to me the night before, but the truth was, I felt more awake than I had in a long time, maybe ever, and I’d crept from Dane’s bed like a thief, the house still dark when I went to my room to take a shower.
I met Beck in the foyer as he was heading out.
He grinned knowingly. “Have a good night, cupcake?”
“Shut up or I’m not coming to the bakery with you.”
“Sure thing. Whatever you say.” He bent to kiss me, then opened the door.
The sun was just coming up, the sky pink and orange to the east, still violet to the west. Birds were starting to sing in the surrounding trees and the air was just a little bit cool, with only a hint of the warmth that would come later in the day.
We said good morning to Bastien, standing with the hose in front of Bramble House, and continued on to Main Street where Clara waved from Petals on Main.
The morning felt special, like a secret shared between Beck and me, and I felt a pang of sadness at the idea of leaving it all behind for my rushed mornings in the city, a paper cup of coffee in hand while I dodged other pedestrians and cars ignoring the traffic lights.
Good gravy, I was really confused.
I was relieved to get to the bakery where I could put my hands to work, and I set about stocking the glass case with the pastries Beck had made the night before while he got started making fresh croissants, scones, and muffins for the morning customers.
Malcolm would be in by ten, which was perfect since that was when I’d be leaving for the town clerk’s office.
We opened at seven a.m. and the bakery immediately filled with customers: students on their way to school, Blackwell Hollow commuters on their way to work, and a few people I didn’t recognize.
Rosie came in with Mayor Biscuit as the rush was winding down and grinned knowingly when she saw me working the counter.
I tried to be professional even though my cheeks heated at the memory of her walking in on Dane and me in the courtroom, but she wasn’t about to let me off the hook.
“That was some meeting the other night!” She pushed her pink glasses up on her nose. “And after! That was something too. Especially for you I imagine!”
“Um… yeah. What can I get you, Rosie?” I kept a nervous eye on Mayor Biscuit, whose doggie gaze was locked on a bag full of muffins I’d handed the customer I’d just served.
I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she was out of the store.
“Just throw in whatever you have for the Ground,” she said. “I’m not picky. Just like to offer something sweet for my customers to pair with their caffeine. And speaking of something sweet, Dane Calder must be— ”
“Jiminy cricket, Rosie! Stop!” I wanted to cover my ears but I started throwing pastries into a box like my life depended on it, desperate to get her out of the shop.
“Okay, okay!” She held up her hands in surrender. “Just thought you might want a little girl talk.”
“No, thank you.” I closed the box and taped it shut. “Should I put this on your tab?”
“Yes, please.” Now Rosie seemed miffed, put off by my rejection of her offer of girl talk, but that was her problem. Like I’d ever share girl talk with Rosie, the biggest — and most unreliable — gossip in town.
I shoved the box her way and forced the biggest smile I could manage. “Have a great day!”
“Come on, Mayor Biscuit.” She sniffed and took the box. “I know when we’re not wanted.”
I didn’t have it in me to make her feel better. I had a lot on my plate. I’d deal with her later.
“What’s wrong with Rosie?” Malcolm said, breezing into the shop a minute later.
“I have no idea,” I said. “Why?”
He set down his bag and reached inside for a silk scarf printed with unicorns. “I just ran into her on the sidewalk and she told me she’d never felt so ‘unwelcome’ at the Crumb.”
I sighed. “That was me. I’ll make nice with her later.”
He started tying the scarf around his dark curls. “Is it because she caught you and Dane doing the nasty in the courtroom after the last town meeting?”
“Oh my gravy!” I covered my face with my hands. “Is there nothing she won’t tell the whole town?!”
Malcolm seemed to think about it. “Nope, she pretty much blabs about everything and gets it wrong half the time besides.”
The last part might be my only saving grace. Maybe everyone in town would think she was exaggerating.
“Don’t worry, girl,” Malcolm said, walking past me into the kitchen. “We’ve all been victims of Rosie at one time or another.”
His reassurance did nothing to cool the heat on my face, and I grabbed a cloth and started furiously wiping down the counters, trying to strike the entire conversation with Rosie from my mind.
I’d picked up a bottle of glass cleaner and started on the pastry case when the door swung open.
Three men entered the shop one after the other — and these weren’t locals.
They were huge, at least an inch taller than Dane, who was over six feet tall, with tattoos that reached out from under their clothes, crawling over every inch of visible skin except their faces.
The one at the front had long jet-black hair, his nose slightly bent like it had been broken more than once.
A blond with short spiky hair and a smattering of freckles stepped into the shop behind him, followed by a brown-haired man with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen and cheekbones as sharp as knives.
There was something cavalier about the way they stalked into the room, like they owned the place, and I wasn’t even surprised when the one with blond hair leaned over to plant a wet kiss on a picture of a Victorian woman having tea by the seaside.
“Morning love,” he said to the woman in the picture as he passed.
The black-haired man looked me over and I had to resist the urge to cover my body with my hands. His gaze made me feel stripped bare, like he could see everything under my shorts and tank top.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he said, running his finger along the glass case. “You must be new.”
“I am.” My voice cracked and I tried again. “I am.”
“What did I say?” he said to the blond. “The Crumb always has the best sweets.”
The blond grinned and a shiver ran up my spine. “You know how I like sweets.”
I caught a flash of his tongue piercing when he talked.
They’d brought a strange chaotic energy into the shop, and I suddenly had the sense that anything could happen.
That anything might not be all good.
I was standing next to the glass case, feeling totally exposed, feeling weirdly like I needed an escape, when Beck pushed through the door from the kitchen carrying a fresh tray of blueberry streusel muffins.
He took one look at the three men standing in front of the glass case and dropped the tray on the counter, his expression darkening.
“Morning,” the blue-eyed man said to Beck. Now that he was closer I caught the piercings in his left eyebrow and noticed that a strip of his right brow had been shaved. “Looks like you have something new on the menu.”
Beck marched around the counter and took my arm, then pulled me back behind the glass case. “Fuck off, Viggo. She’s not going to play your little game.”
Beck’s usual easygoing manner vanished as he stood with his feet apart, his arms folded across his chest, like he was daring the three men to keep up their innuendo-filled banter.
The man with black hair laughed, his lascivious gaze flicking to where I leaned against the counter behind the pastry case. “I sense a personal attachment to this one. I’m feeling generous, so we’ll let you keep her.”
“You won’t let me do shit,” Beck said. “Now what the fuck do you want, Hawk?”
The man named Hawk walked the length of the pastry case. “I gotta hand it to you, it all looks good.” He looked at the man named Viggo, who had opened a pack of sugar from the coffee bar and was emptying it into his mouth. “Didn’t I tell you it would be worth the drive?”
Beck grabbed a pastry box. “Just tell me what you want and get the fuck out.”
He laughed, like Beck’s demeanor didn’t even put a dent in his self-confidence. “We’ll take one of everything. No wait, we’ll take two of everything.” His gaze slid to me again, his eyes homing in on my tits. “We have big appetites.”
Beck haphazardly threw two of every pastry in the case into the box, taped it shut, and shoved it across the counter. “No charge. Let’s call it a parting gift. Nice knowing you. Don’t come back.”
The blond picked up the box with a grin. “Aw, we’re hurt, but no hard feelings. You’re obviously feeling a little… territorial. And honestly, I don’t blame you.” He winked. “She’s yummy.”
I held my breath as they headed for the door. They felt like marauders come to destroy and pillage, like nothing was safe in their presence.
Like nothing was sacred.
“Too bad about the new girl,” Viggo said on his way out.
“Relax.” The pierced brunette held the door for Hawk. “We’ll be hunting again soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Hawk growled.
I exhaled loudly when the door closed behind them. “Jiminy cricket… who were they?”
“Fucking Hawks,” Beck muttered.
“Hawks?”
He scowled, picked up the baking tray he’d set down, and started loading the blueberry streusel muffins into the case. “It’s a nickname… or a team name or some shit.”
“What kind of team name?”
Beck’s gaze darkened. “For a game they play.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain, and honestly, you don’t want to know.”
I had a feeling he was right.
The kitchen door swung open and Malcolm appeared next to the coffee pot.
He took in Beck’s stormy expression and froze. “What’d I miss?”
“Just the fucking Hawks,” Beck muttered.
“Ah.” Malcolm looked around. “I’m surprised nothing is broken.” He looked at me. “Last time they were here they drank all the half-and-half from the coffee bar one tiny cup at a time.”
“I got rid of them fast,” Beck said. “And I told them not to come back. Don’t serve them if they do. And call me if I’m not here.”
“Fine with me. Those guys scare the fuck out of me.”
I knew what he meant. The Hawks had seemed friendly enough — too friendly in fact — but my pulse was racing. Their wild energy had set me on edge, and being in the bakery with them had been like being locked in a cage with feral animals.
Unpredictable. Erratic.
Those were the words that came to mind.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head of the strange hypnotic fog that had descended over my brain while the Hawks had moved through the shop like a bunch of jackals.
“Oh sugar!” I said when I looked at the clock. “I need to go. It’s after ten.”
There was no deadline for confirming Harold’s initials at the town hall, but I was anxious to confirm my theory.
Beck dropped an easy kiss on my lips.
“Knew it,” Malcolm said triumphantly.
“Want me to take a break and go with you?” Beck asked when I grabbed my bag from under the counter.
I headed for the door. “It’s okay. It’s daytime. I’ll be fine.”