Chapter 24
Jordan
At any given moment, he was thinking about having sex with Zinnia.
Being patient while she worked her way up to asking had been like living through an earthquake.
No signs or warning, only wild heart-stopping chaos.
He’d been at the dentist, in the chair getting his exam, when he started laughing about the way she wasted no time going straight for his dick.
He stopped trying to slow her down when he realized it wasn’t going to be a one-time fling.
His wife had plans for him.
“This one is an experimental blend we’ve been tinkering with,” Paul said. “What do you think?”
Unfortunately for Jordan, he was currently in the middle of a meeting with a local roaster, who was a friend of a friend, to hopefully strike up a new exclusive partnership for T3. Instead of having sex with his wife.
“No.” Sometimes being blunt was best. “Everything you’ve shown me thus far isn’t going to cut it for my stores.” Jordan’s phone rang—the ringtone he’d set for Tantivy2 and its employees. “I have to take this, excuse me.”
He exited the office and began walking to the end of the short hallway while quickly checking the messages he had from Zinnia.
ZINNIA: Beta Carotene has been secured and is in my car! See you at the townhouse!
There was also a picture of her and their cat in typical travel mid-yowl. She’d wanted to try getting him into his carrier on her own. They were staying the night at her place, which included taking Grace and Fiona to dinner.
“This is Jordan,” he answered, still smiling.
“Hey, are you in the area? Could you drop by the store?” Coco’s voice shook with uncertainty.
He chose his store locations carefully. Different cities, but less than thirty minutes from his apartment in all directions in case there was a need for shift coverage or an emergency. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I can. What’s up?”
“I think I’m gonna have to call the police to have someone removed from the store.”
Shit. Tantivy had a standing rule: all were welcome.
As long as patrons weren’t disturbing others or in active crisis, they could stay as long as they wanted.
They offered one free cup of drip coffee and pastry per hour, water, Wi-Fi, and a small library of free used books, marked with yellow tape on the spine.
Police and not ambulance meant Coco deemed the situation an active threat.
“What are they doing?”
“Taking pictures of us. At first I thought he was just vlogging, you know, filming himself or B-roll, but Norman caught him zooming in on Freddie while they were making an order.”
“How long has he been there?”
“Two hours. He doesn’t have anything with him like a bag or laptop. He just ordered a coffee and sat down.”
“Hold on.” A sinking feeling made itself at home in the pit of Jordan’s stomach as he returned to the office.
But even more important than that was this being Coco’s first store emergency.
She called him first. He needed to be there to have her back.
“I’m sorry, but I need to cut this meeting short. I’ll be in touch.”
Jordan booked it to his car while still on the phone with Coco. He wanted to confront whoever this was himself. “Get everyone behind the counter. Tell the bookstore associates and anyone feeling unsafe to go in the stockroom, you included.”
“All hands, huddle up!” she called out—the store’s code for an emergency meeting.
“Give Freddie the landline and tell them to watch from the back window. If he does anything besides sit there, call the police immediately.”
Jordan drove as fast as midday traffic would allow. Instead of bursting through the front door like he wanted, he decided on a calmer approach and parked behind the store. He entered through the kitchen’s back door and found most of his team crowded around a small window.
“He’s still there.” Freddie dutifully had the phone clutched in their hand. “Coco stayed out front to work the bar.”
Jordan’s jaw flexed. “Wait here.”
The kitchen also had a secret side door. He walked up behind the man, who he knew had been waiting for him. The he in question was dressed in a nondescript T-shirt, jeans, and baseball hat.
“You need to leave.”
The man flinched, eyes going wide before relaxing with recognition. “Alfie.” He stood up and extended his hand. “I’ve been waiting. Levi Potter—I’m with Makeshift Photography.”
Hearing his name made him angrier. He felt it like a live wire, seething hot and erratic as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Get out of my store.”
Levi’s hand dropped back to his side. “I was hoping you’d be more like your sister. She works with us. Guessing I was wrong about that.”
“Do you walk into her meetings and take stealth photos of her staff without permission? Or is that a special consideration you made just for little old me?”
No one at his stores had consented to being filmed.
“Guess we’ll never know.” Levi shrugged as if he wasn’t in the wrong. “Maybe next time you’ll answer my company’s emails to avoid miscommunication tiffs like this.”
“How did you even find me?”
“We have our ways, but I will say it surprisingly wasn’t hard. Almost as if someone wanted us to find you.” Levi cocked his head to the side and tapped his chin. “That does seem to keep happening for some reason. I wonder why?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve declared yourself a threat to my employees. You post a single one of the pictures taken today and I will sue you straight out of business. If you come in here again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“You have thirty seconds before my patience runs out.”
“That’s too bad.” Levi sat his business card down on the table before walking out.
Jordan ripped it up and threw it in the trash before approaching his employees. “If he comes back or if anyone else shows up taking pictures, code red immediately.”
“Did you know him?” Coco asked.
“No.” He ran a hand down his face.
Jordan had thought establishing a pattern of never being in-store would prevent shit like this from happening prematurely. Coco and Phil knew he was a Zaffre. They’d been working on a team training of what to expect and do once the new season began airing. They were supposed to have more time.
“You want to close early?” he asked. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s only a couple of hours. I’m fine if they are.”
“Take a vote. I trust your judgment.” He checked the time. “Let’s move the training up to first thing Friday morning. All hands. Mandatory attendance. Call me if you need anything in the meantime.”
Jordan spent the entire drive to Zinnia’s house making sure he wasn’t being followed. He took several wrong turns, doubled back, parked two blocks away, walked through a side street, hopped the fence into her neighbor’s backyard and then into hers.
Was he being more than a little paranoid? Maybe. But he had no idea how far the leak had spread or how deep anyone had dug into his background. If no one knew about Zinnia yet, he wasn’t going to risk leading them straight to her.
He reported the incident and his mom immediately scheduled a call to discuss “logistics.” They’d almost made it the full thirty days without even having to think about Zaffre Hours. So much for that.
Jordan had given his all to making sure their sabbatical was everything Zinnia wanted, and it’d been incredible so far. Maybe not perfect, but damn close.
They started with the basics: grocery shopping, standing lunch dates, and sleepovers.
Now they were moving into merging territory: official department store family photos (with Beta Carotene), financial planning with an advisor, and hard launching to almost everyone they knew (excluding her parents).
His Tantivy teams loved her, and she was meeting his friends that weekend.
He’d already met hers during murder mystery book club brunch.
Never had his life felt so…whole. Going from hyper-independent and severely in denial to having a wife unafraid to call out his bullshit understandably changed him. She was a sun goddess, powered by sincerity, challenging him to stay, asking him to believe her, to trust her, to love—
“Are you listening to me?” Zinnia’s concerned tone lured him back to her. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed Grace and Fiona had left the table.
They were at a Cirque du Soleil–style dinner theater—a semi-interactive live production in a permanent spiegeltent. She’d found it online and shared it with him. He’d surprised her with four tickets instead of two.
“Nope. I’m sorry,” he said.
“Are you okay?”
Seeing her never failed to knock him senseless. No thoughts, head empty. Erratically skipped heartbeats. How did he even have breath left to steal at this point?
But that wasn’t what she’d meant.
“Yeah. Just thinking about…stuff.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Seems important.”
One more dinner. One more good sabbatical night. “I’ll tell you later,” he promised.
Zinnia bumped his knee under the table—he moved back to give her better access to him. She accepted the invitation, situating herself between his legs. Warm hands on his thighs. Eyes searching his face.
“Do you mean it or are you only saying that to shut me up?”
“Hmm, definitely the former.” He leaned forward, draping one arm across the back of her chair.
“You have something on your face. Hold still.” She brushed his cheek with gentle swipes before cupping his jaw and tracing his bottom lip with her thumb, all the while wielding a mischievous smile. “Much better.”
Pride and lust sinned their way up and down his lowly human body. He’d taught her that move.
They were sitting on the second level, where she’d be able to see the entire stage and audience to have the best viewing experience. Sandwiched between a wall and still-vacant tables, he palmed her knee before sliding his hand up her thigh and under her dress.