Chapter 29
TIANA
I’m wiping down a table when the front door opens.
At first, I don’t pay it much attention, assuming it’s Demi showing up for her shift. Then I remember she doesn’t start for another hour, so it must be the first wave of customers. But the second I glance up, I know these men aren’t here for coffee.
There are three of them, all dressed in tailored suits. Their polished shoes click against the hardwood floors as they walk in, looking out of place among the mismatched chairs, local artwork, and handwritten chalkboard menus that have always made Willow’s feel like home.
One of them approaches the counter while the other two scan the café.
“Good afternoon,” he says with a professional smile.
“Hi,” I reply. “What can I get started for you?”
“We’re actually looking for Mr. Patel.”
Shit. These must be the Aldercrest Group men. They have to be.
I set my cloth down on the counter and straighten. “He’s not available at the moment.”
The man smiles politely. “We’re happy to wait.”
People like this always seem to have endless patience when they’re trying to buy something that belongs to someone else.
“Can I ask what this is regarding?”
His smile never wavers. “We’re here to discuss opportunities.”
“Are you the group trying to buy Willow’s?”
The man exchanges a glance with one of his colleagues, and something about it rubs me the wrong way. It’s subtle, but it feels dismissive, like I’m asking silly questions I don’t need the answers to.
“We’re exploring several possibilities.”
Translation: none of your business.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Willow’s isn’t just a business, you know.”
That seems to catch them off guard.
One of the three raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No.” I gesture around the café. “This place matters to people. They’ve had first dates here. They study here. They bring their kids here. Some of our regulars have been coming every week for years.”
The men remain silent, which somehow annoys me even more.
“You can’t just buy a place like this and turn it into another cold, lifeless corporate café.”
“I assure you, our company values community.”
I actually laugh. I can’t help it. “Right.”
“Tiana.” A familiar voice cuts through the tension.
I turn to find Aravind emerging from the back office. His gaze lands on me, and I recognize the expression: Please stop threatening potential buyers in my café.
Oops.
I exhale through my nose. “They’re from Aldercrest.”
“I know. Why don’t you let me handle this?”
After a moment, I nod. “Fine.”
The older man offers me one last polite smile before he and his colleagues follow Aravind toward the office.
The second the door closes behind them, I let out an irritated breath and grab the nearest rag, mostly because scrubbing something feels more productive than imagining all the ways Aldercrest could ruin this place.
A few minutes later, the bell above the door jingles again.
“What can I get you?” I grumble without looking up.
“A coffee would be a good start.”
I glance up. Griffin. He never comes in here.
Apparently the universe has decided I can’t have a normal day.
Whatever expression I’m wearing must be alarming because one of his eyebrows climbs upward.
“What?”
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “Corporate vultures.”
His gaze follows mine toward Aravind’s office before returning to my face. “Ah.”
“Your “ah” sounded concerned.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Maybe because you look like you’re about five seconds away from committing a felony.”
“I haven’t ruled it out.”
A laugh rumbles out of him as he leans against the counter. “Want to tell me what happened?”
I glance toward the office door and feel my irritation surge back to life.
“They kept talking about opportunities and community values like they were reading directly from a handbook called How To Buy A Local Business Without Looking Evil.” Griffin’s mouth twitches.
I grab a cup and start making his coffee.
“They don’t understand this place. To them it’s just another asset.
Another investment. Another line on a spreadsheet.
” My voice softens as I glance around the café.
“They don’t understand that this place has a heartbeat. ”
For a moment, Griffin doesn’t say anything.
“You really care about this place.”
“Of course I do. This café is Aravind’s life, and if they buy it, they’re going to take everything that makes it special and replace it with something shiny and soulless. And he doesn’t even realize that’s what they’re trying to do. That’s why I want to buy this place. I would keep it alive.”
Griffin studies me for a second. “How can you be so sure that they won’t keep it as is?”
I point at him. “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m trying to be realistic.”
“Well, stop.” I slide his coffee across the counter.
“How much money are you still short?” he asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
I do a quick mental calculation, subtracting what I’ve managed to save since moving in and working for him from the amount I originally needed. “About ten grand, I think.”
Griffin nods, his brows furrowing. “Okay. And how much time do you have left?”
“Two months. Maybe a little less.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “You could always sell pictures of your feet.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a viable business model.”
I clutch my chest in horror. “EW! Are you seriously cracking jokes during my financial crisis?”
His laugh breaks free. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “I’m just trying to make you feel better.”
“Don’t joke about that. Do you know how many gross messages I get on a daily basis about my feet?”
His grin only widens. “I can imagine.”
“No, you can’t. One guy offered me five hundred dollars to mail him a sock.”
He nearly chokes on his coffee. “Used?”
“GRIFFIN!”
He laughs harder.
I stare at him in complete disbelief. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
He wipes a hand across his mouth, still fighting a smile. “Ten grand, huh? That’s only twenty socks.”
I gasp so loudly a customer glances over. “Get out.”
“Or ten premium socks.”
“Leave.”
“I’m just saying, math is math.”
I grab an empty cardboard cup from beside the register and throw it at his chest. He catches it, the smug bastard.
“You’re the worst.”
“And yet,” Griffin says, tossing the cup back onto the counter, “you’re smiling.”
Before I can come up with a comeback, Mr. Patel’s office door opens.
My smile disappears.
The three Aldercrest representatives step back into the café with Aravind trailing behind them.
I watch them closely, trying to read the room.
The older man extends his hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Patel.”
My stomach drops.
What the hell does that mean?
Every muscle in my body goes rigid as a dozen worst-case scenarios begin racing through my head.
Did Aravind sell?
Did they make an offer?
Did he accept?
I look at Mr. Patel, hoping he’ll give me something, but his expression remains frustratingly neutral. Then he turns around and goes back into his office.
The men begin heading toward the door, then one of them pauses. “Griffin?”
I blink.
The older man is looking directly at Griffin.
To my surprise, Griffin greets him. “David. It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
The two shake hands.
I glance between them, confused.
“Still with W.H.M.?” David asks.
“Unfortunately.”
David laughs. “How are Worth and Henson doing?”
“Good. Busy.”
“I imagine. We drove past that Bellevue project last month. Looks fantastic.”
“Worth will be happy to hear that.”
The two men continue chatting for another minute while my brain attempts to catch up.
“Well.” David extends his hand again. “Good seeing you, Griff.”
“You too, Dave.”
The Aldercrest group men leave, and the second the door closes behind them, I spin toward Griffin. “You know them?”
“Turns out I do.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeats, confused.
“Yes, why?”
“We’ve worked with Aldercrest before. W.H.M. built several mixed-use developments for them.”
I stare at him. “That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
I throw my hands into the air. “I don’t know! A secret corporate conspiracy?”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Considering I just heard one of them tell Aravind it was a pleasure doing business with him? No, I think I’m being appropriate.”
“Tiana, you don’t know what they were talking about.”
I cross my arms. “Neither do you, which means I’m free to panic.”
“You’re always free to panic. It doesn’t mean you should.”
I glare at him, but he remains completely unaffected. It’s infuriating.
“What if he made an agreement?”
For the first time since the Aldercrest representatives walked into the café, my frustration gives way to something more vulnerable.
Fear.
“Then you’ll deal with it,” he says simply.
I blink. “That was incredibly unhelpful.”
Griffin rolls his eyes. “If he sells, you’ll figure out your next move. If he doesn’t, you’ll keep working toward your goal. Either way, the world won’t end today, sugar.”
I want to argue, but the certainty in his voice takes some of the air out of my panic.
My shoulders sag. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“I’m still worried.”
“I know.”
“Can you at least pretend to be worried with me?”
Griffin does the unimaginable and rounds the counter and reaches for me, pulling me against his chest.
I go completely still, forgetting how to breathe. Then the familiar warmth of him settles around me.
His arms tighten around my shoulders. “It’ll be okay. And no matter what happens, I’ve got you. Okay?”
The knot in my chest loosens just enough for me to take a full breath.
I shouldn’t find as much comfort in his embrace as I do. And I definitely shouldn’t find it in the scent of his cologne and coffee and whatever it is that simply smells like Griffin. But I do.
“Okay,” I murmur.
The uncertainty and worry are still there. But standing here, wrapped in Griffin’s arms, the weight of it all feels a little easier to carry.
My phone buzzes in my apron pocket while I’m refilling the pastries.
I glance down, expecting a text or a reminder, but my stomach flips when I see an email from Renee.