Chapter 3 #2
She took him through the essentials, keeping her voice brisk.
Register. Pickup counter. Coffee station.
Pastry case. Storage shelves. Kitchen. Office.
Restrooms. Back exit. Stairwell with two doors, one which led to her apartment and the other to the alley behind the shop.
She didn’t linger anywhere, partly because lunch was coming and partly because having Reid trail her through the building where she lived and worked made it feel too small.
When they reached the short hallway near the office, out of Maya’s earshot, Holly stopped. “You can hang out in the back room or the office during lunch.”
“I need to be out front.”
“You need to stay out of the way.”
“I can do both.”
“How? You don’t know how to work here.”
“I don’t need to know how to pull shots to clear tables, restock lids, wipe counters, or watch who comes in.”
Holly inhaled through her nose and reminded herself that throwing him into the alley would be both unprofessional and unwise. “Fine. Start with the easy things. Bus tables, restock napkins, sleeves, lids, and stirrers. If a customer asks you a question, you find me or Maya.”
“Understood.”
“You don’t take orders unless I tell you, and you don’t touch the espresso machine.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t hover.”
His eyes met hers. “I won’t hover.”
That should’ve been reassuring. It wasn’t. Reid had always been too good at making promises.
The lunch rush began with three courthouse clerks, two teachers, a pair of retirees splitting soup and grilled cheese, and a damp cyclist who ordered enough food for a man who’d either skipped breakfast or intended to hibernate.
Holly slid into the familiar rhythm gratefully, letting orders, receipts, cups, and voices occupy the spaces in her mind where fear kept trying to spread.
Reid did exactly what she needed. He cleared tables without being asked. He learned where the clean mugs went after seeing Maya unload one tray. He restocked napkins before the holders emptied.
When Mrs. Alvarez dropped her pen, he picked it up and returned it without making a production of it. When a delivery driver left wet footprints near the entrance, Reid found the mop, dried the floor, and set out the caution sign as if he’d been doing it for years.
Worse, people liked him. He didn’t chat too much or lean into charm. He didn’t have to. He was calm, polite, and attentive, and he listened when people spoke. He remembered which table had asked for extra napkins. He stepped aside before customers had to squeeze past him.
Holly found herself watching him when she should’ve been watching the milk thermometer.
“Your new guy is good,” Maya murmured as she reached for a stack of plates.
“He’s adequate.”
“He’s been here forty minutes and already found the mop without asking. That’s above adequate.”
By the time the rush eased, Holly’s feet ached, her head throbbed faintly, and Reid had managed to make himself useful without once touching the espresso machine. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, she was mildly offended by his adaptability.
Maya untied her apron and retied it tighter, preparing for cleanup. “I’ll handle the dishes and wipe down tables.”
“I’ll take Blue out,” Holly said. “He’s probably plotting structural damage by now.”
Reid looked up from where he was stacking clean saucers. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Maya, blessedly, had already disappeared through the swinging door with a bus tub and didn’t witness Holly’s jaw setting.
Holly kept her voice low. “I’m walking my dog to the park down the block and back. It’ll take fifteen minutes.”
“That sounds like a routine.”
“So?” She walked Blue after the lunch rush most days. Down Laurel, across Main, around the little park by the courthouse annex, then back for whatever lunch she could eat standing up.
“It’s predictable.”
“It’s necessary. Blue needs exercise. I need air so I don’t become feral before three o’clock.”
Reid’s voice gentled, but his words didn’t. “Until we know who left that card, you don’t leave the building alone.”
She couldn’t hold back her sigh. “This is going to get old fast.”
He simply stood there, and she knew this was a fight she was going to lose.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll get the dog.”
She went upstairs through the private stairwell, taking a few extra seconds to collect herself while Blue danced circles around her in the apartment entry.
His speckled body wiggled with delight, his tail a blur, his mouth open in a wild grin generated by the appearance of his leash. He needed a break.
“You and me both, buddy,” she murmured, clipping it on. She grabbed her raincoat. “Except I’m less delighted about our guest.”
Blue sneezed, which she chose to interpret as solidarity. That interpretation lasted until she brought him downstairs and he saw Reid.
Blue lost his mind. He erupted into a series of joyful yips, lunging toward Reid with his entire body vibrating. Reid crouched, and Blue shoved his head against Reid’s chest, tail whipping hard enough to threaten nearby furniture.
“Traitor,” Holly muttered, slipping on her coat.
Reid rubbed Blue’s ears, and the dog leaned into him as if they’d been separated by war and destiny. “She means you.”
“I meant both of you.”
Reid looked up, and the faint amusement in his eyes did something inconvenient to her stomach. “Noted.”
Holly led the way out before she could think better of it.
The rain had softened to mist, leaving the sidewalks damp and the air cool against her cheeks.
Sanctuary’s patio chairs gleamed with water, and the string lights overhead swayed lightly in the breeze.
Blue trotted ahead, nose working, thrilled by puddles, leaves, and the possibility that the entire town existed for his investigative needs.
Reid walked beside her. He kept his hands free, his gaze moving without being obvious about it.
He checked parked cars, reflections in windows, the mouth of the alley beside the bakery, the couple stepping out of the pharmacy, the man smoking under the awning near the courthouse annex.
He didn’t make a production of it, but Holly noticed. It put her on edge.
“How often do you take this route?” he asked.
“Most days.”
“Same time?”
“Depends on the rush.”
“But usually after lunch, right?”
She tightened her grip on Blue’s leash. “Is this a cross-examination?”
“I’m not trying to scare you.” He glanced at her, then back to the street. “I’m simply assessing the threat level.”
Threat. Right. “Yes, always after lunch, unless he’s at daycare.”
They reached the park, a small square of grass, benches, and dripping trees tucked between the courthouse annex and a row of old brick offices. Blue inspected the base of a maple with deep professional interest.
Reid watched the park while Blue treed a squirrel.
“You’re wasting your time,” Holly told the dog. “That squirrel has legal counsel.”
Reid’s mouth curved. “Does Blue ever negotiate first?”
“Definitely not. This is his park. The squirrels are trespassers.”
They started back toward Sanctuary a few minutes later, Reid walking on the street side. A car passed, splashing water toward the sidewalk, and he gently moved her out of the way.
The quiet courtesy made her chest ache in a different way from the fear.
It reminded her of old memories she didn’t want softened—Reid giving her his jacket on the Fleming porch when she was cold, or fixing the chain on her bike without making her feel foolish for not knowing how.
Reid, younger and still serious, listening when she talked and asking her questions that showed he cared.
She’d built a life around not needing him. Now he was back, and need had become a safety issue.
They reached the corner across from Sanctuary. The shop glowed through the mist, warm and familiar, Maya moving behind the counter. It should’ve looked like refuge. Holly felt the emotions piling up. “Do you really think I’m in danger?”
Reid didn’t answer quickly. That was answer enough to make her stomach sink.
Blue paused at the curb and looked up at them, ears perked.
Reid’s gaze moved from Holly to the rain-dark windows of Sanctuary, then to the street behind them. “Before I saw the loyalty card, I thought your shop was connected to the investigation, and you were simply caught in the middle of it.”
“And now?”
His eyes came back to hers. “Now I’m not so sure.”