Chapter Four
Chase
The light was fading, the sticky summer heat lifting only a bit as I pushed open the door to Annabelle's Café. As always, customers lingered though it was close to closing time. I lifted a hand to wave at Annabelle behind the counter, and she graced me with one of her wide, bright smiles.
I headed back to the armchair in the corner I'd claimed as my own, if only in my mind.
Fortunately for me, it was empty. Over the past few weeks, I'd taken to showing up at Annabelle's Café at random times.
Sometimes to eat, sometimes for a jolt of caffeine or sugar—I'd quickly become addicted to her brownies—or simply for a place to be away from the office. Away from Winters House.
Violet and I had moved into Winters House a few days after Charlie delivered the news about the delay. Our belongings, piles of cardboard boxes and stacks of furniture, filled one of the garage bays.
Violet had taken up residence in Aiden's suite, and I’d moved into what had originally been Vance’s room, then Sophie's. Sophie had moved out when she'd married Gage, and since their wedding it had stood empty.
Most of the rooms in Winters House stood empty. I imagined Gage and Sophie and Aiden and Violet all planned to fill it with children. They should. Winters House might have been grand and elegant and enormous, but it was a house meant for a family.
For better or worse, the Winters were mine. I was trying to see it as better, but lately it felt like it might be worse.
I thought the presence of staff in the house would make me feel even more like an interloper. I'd grown up in a nice home, and my mother had help with the housework, but a once-a-week day maid was not the same as live-in staff.
Mrs. W, the housekeeper, served as a buffer. If I needed something, I didn't need to bother Aiden or Gage. I didn't have to wander around, trying to figure things out. I just hunted up Mrs. W and asked. She was, in a word, amazing.
Mrs. W kept Winters House running smoothly, and she seemed to know everything about everyone—what they were doing, where they were—but she never asked personal questions. She had, according to Vivi, a very strict line between personal and family. She never gossiped, and she never pried.
She and Vivi hit it off from their first meeting. According to Aiden, Mrs. W couldn't wait for Violet to become mistress of the house.
Mrs. W kept her emotions tucked away, but I could see her affection for my sister in the little things. The flowers at the table were Vivi's favorite. Mrs. W had reorganized Aiden’s closet for her before we’d moved in, and always consulted with Vivi on meals and schedules.
I'd wondered, for someone who put so much emphasis on proper behavior and professional reserve, someone who I assumed would hate scandal and gossip—how would a woman like that accept my presence in the household? The abandoned bastard child of one of her former employers.
Employers to whom, from everything I'd heard, she'd been deeply devoted. But Mrs. W had greeted me with as much warmth as she'd ever shown in the short time I’d known her, and when I hunted her down with one question or another she always had a smile for me.
Mrs. W was a lot easier to deal with than the rest of the Winters.
There was nothing wrong with them. They were all nice. They were great. Aiden was the perfect match for my strong-willed sister, and I couldn't have been happier they'd found each other.
Seriously. I could do without walking in to see his hands on her ass, but I could live with it if it meant she was happy.
Gage, my half-brother, lived in the house, and the two of us got along fairly well. We worked together at Winters, Inc. temporarily while I salvaged the mess they'd made of my company.
I didn't blame them for what happened. Not anymore. Not once I'd learned the truth. We'd both been screwed by the same guy and, if anything, the mess was my fault. If only I’d double-checked the contracts…
The crazy thing was, I was almost glad it had happened. For one, if I hadn't lost my company, Violet never would have met Aiden. But more than that, I didn't really want it back.
I'm not an executive. I love designing software. Solving problems. I love the rush of a start-up. The adrenaline and anxiety. The risk.
Running a functioning, profitable company? Not so much. I wasn't ready to leave Winters, Inc. My algorithm wasn't finished, and until it was ready for the market, I wouldn't walk out on them.
But I'd been working on something in my spare time that was a hell of a lot more interesting, and I found myself counting the days until I could get out of Winters, Inc. and out of Winters House.
I'd planned to establish a relationship with the Winters on my own terms. Kind of hard to do that when I was living in their house and eating at their table. They meant well, and it was cool they'd welcomed me with open arms. They didn’t have to.
It had to sting to find out their mother had gotten pregnant and given up a child they'd never known. They’d lost her so young, and they could have taken it as a slight on her memory.
That wasn't who they were, and they were eager for any piece of Anna Winters, even her discarded bastard.
Violet aside, my own family was a mess. I should have been happy to have a replacement.
It's just that, all together, the Winters clan was a lot to take in. I'd been a loner for the past twenty years. Having four half-siblings and four cousins all at once left me feeling a little crowded.
Enter Annabelle's Café.
When I was overwhelmed and needed some space, I found myself here. An Americano, a brownie, a comfortable armchair, and my laptop, and I could work in peace. It was hard to get anything done in the house.
I had privacy, but there were so many people coming and going I found it hard to focus.
You’d think a café would make it worse, but the constant murmur of conversation turned into white noise.
Sitting there, focused on my screen, my fingers flying across the keyboard, I found myself making real progress on my side project for the first time in weeks.
Annabelle had been cautious with me the first time I'd showed up. Waiting for me to ask her out again. Wondering if I was going to take no for an answer.
I would.
I had.
But she was smart enough to guess that I was biding my time. I hadn't given up on the idea of taking Annabelle Woods out to dinner. And more. So much more.
Hanging out at her café didn't just give me the opportunity to get work done, it gave me the excuse to watch her.
Watch her, hell, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
That bristling energy. That bright, cheerful smile and those warm brown eyes. The stride of her long legs as she moved around her café, gathering empties and chatting with regulars.
She loved this place, and she'd made it home away from home for more people than me.
I wanted to take her out.
I wanted to take her to bed.
With each conversation, I’d come to realize I wanted so much more than that. When I was feeling overwhelmed at Winters House or restless in the office it wasn't only the coffee and brownie I thought of.
It was Annabelle’s smile of welcome.
A few minutes after I’d settled into my armchair, she was at my side, carrying a small tray she'd loaded down with a cup of soup, a sandwich, a coffee I already knew would be decaf—for a woman who owned a café she had very strict ideas about the proper time for caffeine—and the brownie she knew I'd be craving.
"Thank you," I said.
Scowling down at me she replied, "Eat it all."
"Yes ma'am," I said, giving her my most charming grin. It widened into a full-fledged smile when she rolled her eyes to the ceiling and left without another word.
She'd be back. Annabelle pretended she found me exasperating. And she did, a little. But she also liked me. I knew she liked me because instead of trying to kick me out, she fed me every time I showed up, even when it was close to closing time. Like tonight.
I wouldn't get much work done, but sometimes Annabelle let me hang out while she shut down the café. Occasionally, she even let me help. I wasn't above pitching in if I thought it would soften her up.
That, and she worked so fucking hard. I knew she was up at four in the morning and she closed the café every night at eight. It didn't leave much time for a life. Or rest.
Annabelle was driven and ambitious. She was determined that her café would be a success, and even though it was, she had no plans to slow down. I could respect that.
I knew what it was to bust your ass to make your dreams happen. That didn't mean I couldn't give her a hand every now and then. Especially if it gave her an incentive to put up with me.
The sandwich was gone, coffee mostly empty, soup bowl scraped clean, and the brownie decimated when Annabelle dropped into the chair beside mine and propped her feet up on the coffee table.
I raised my head and looked around, surprised to see the café was empty. The sign on the door was turned to CLOSED and the front lights were off.
I blinked a few times to clear my head. Sometimes when I was working, I lost all awareness of what was going on around me.
"What time is it?" I asked.
Annabelle closed her eyes and dropped her head back to rest on the couch, rolling it from side to side to loosen her neck. "Eight-fifteen. Why don't you eat at Winters House? Don't tell me you don't like Abel's cooking."
"It's not that," I said. You'd have to hate food if you didn't like Abel's cooking. "I'm not used to that much company."
She lifted her head and looked around the empty café that had been half-filled when I'd shown up. "So you come to a crowded café?"
"Not the same. This place is filled with strangers. Except for you. Winters House is…not."
"And you don't like them?" Annabelle asked guardedly.
I shook my head. "It's not that. They're great. It's just…" I trailed off. I didn't know how to explain, and I didn't know how much she knew. "I'm not used to having so many people around," I said finally. "I like my space. And this is a good place to get work done."
"As opposed to the office?" Annabelle asked, with a raised eyebrow.
"What I'm working on isn't for Winters, Inc.," I admitted. I saw immediately that she understood.
"And anything you work on on company property, using a company computer—"
"Belongs to the company," I finished for her.
"You think Aiden would take whatever it is you're doing?" Annabelle asked carefully.
I shrugged a shoulder. I didn't. Aiden could be ruthless, but there were so many reasons he wouldn't steal from me, even if he had the right to. Starting with his innate honesty and sense of fair play.
I trusted him, but I’d learned the hard way how much carelessness could cost.
In answer, I said, "No, not exactly. But I also don't want them to know what I'm doing."
"Why not? Is it illegal?" Annabelle leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Are you hacking into something?"
"Troublemaker," I accused, shaking my head. "It's not illegal. It's new and I don't know what I want to do with it yet. If Aiden and Gage find out I'm developing new software—"
"They'll be all over it,” Annabelle finished.
"Exactly. And until I figure out what I want, it's easier if I don't have to deal with them."
"I get it. Do you want anything else to eat?" she asked, rising to organize my dishes on the tray. I reached out a hand and closed my fingers around her wrist, stopping her before she could get away.