18. Sydney
CHAPTER 18
SYDNEY
The first order of business after the shower is some food. I want something delicious, and it doesn’t have to be nutritious. Maybe a baked pastry… My mouth waters at the thought of having a freshly baked magical pastry for breakfast.
When I leave the campground showers, I see West at a different dock, fueling up his sailboat. The irony. For some reason, I always thought sailboats…sailed. It’s news to me that they have a motor on them and have fuel tanks that need filled.
After he so rudely dumped me off here, I don’t bother to wave a final goodbye. It takes all my willpower to not turn and stare at his boat to catch one last glimpse of him.
I’ll go find some food, and then I’ll call his friend to help me get out of here. I’ll recalibrate. Make a new plan of action. Splitting thirty million dollars one way is a good percentage.
Now, I need to find some food. Those granola bars were okay, but man, I could do with some substance. Maybe some fresh bread.
I’m a baked good spotter. Delicious donuts? Don’t mind if I do. Maybe an eclair? I’ll have to bring one back for West. No. Not that. He doesn’t want to be around me.
I end up walking to the very end of Old Town, stopping to peer in shop windows occasionally, eventually settling on a cute coffee shop that smells like heaven.
I stare through the big bay window and just breathe in the happy smell of freshly ground coffee.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice growls behind me.
I spin around to find West standing directly behind me. He’s quiet for such a big guy. “Buying snacks?”
He grabs my hand and drags me inside the coffee shop. “You can’t just stand out on the street corner where anyone could see you.”
“You can’t just drag people around, West.” Although, he has very nice strong hands, and he’s not hurting me at all. In fact, I think I like holding his hand.
“I can if it’s going to save your life,” he grinds out.
I take a deep breath and smell the delicious coffee. Smells like heaven. My caffeine headache is part of my personality now, I’m sure of it.
“You’re not a coffee drinker?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have any coffee on the boat. I know because I looked.” I smirk up at him.
“I’ve been out of the habit of drinking it.” He glances down, realizes he’s still holding my hand, and immediately lets go. My hand is lonely without his.
“It’s okay, I washed them yesterday.” I smile up at him, but he just shakes his head.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mumbles.
His cheeks are turning a nice shade of pink, as though he’s embarrassed to realize he’s been standing here holding my hand in the coffee line. How cute.
I take mercy on him and don’t rag on him about it. “So why don’t you drink coffee?”
“When I was on the force, I worked a lot of nights, did some undercover work that required random hours. I couldn’t always count on having coffee to help me stay alert. So I quit drinking it.”
“But you don’t have to stay away from it now?”
“I guess not. Not unless I’m sailing.”
I order two coffees for us and a donut, paying for it with my credit card.
“Before you leave, I’ll make sure you have some coffee to take on the boat.”
“We.”
“What?”
“Before we leave.”
My jaw drops at that pronunciation. But before I can ask him what he means, the barista calls my name. We get our cups of coffee from the end of the counter and move to sit at a small table away from the front windows. There’s a cozy fireplace sending off heat.
“Fletcher’s not answering my calls. I’m not leaving you here.” He takes a sip out of the large porcelain mug, not bothering to elaborate. I’m going to sign him up for an interpersonal communication class at a local college if this is the best he’s got.
“I thought we planned on parting ways here. You can continue sailing, and I’ll find a way to stay under the radar. You were happy to get rid of me. What made you change your mind?”
“Seeing what a horrible job you’re doing with it.”
I glare at him. “I’m doing just fine. Who’s going to look for me at a coffee shop?”
“Anyone who searches your credit card usage.”
I flinch at that. “You’re right. I’ll find an ATM and get some cash out. That way, I’m not leaving a trail.”
West shakes his head and starts to say something then stops. “I’ve been trying to crack it.”
“Your knuckles?”
He doesn’t appreciate my well-timed joke. Poor guy. He really does need to get a sense of humor someday. “When you were up on deck and left the USB on the table, I took a look at it.”
“Sneaky, sneaky…”
West ignores me. “It’s encrypted.”
I blow on the coffee before taking a sip. “Yes, I figured that out earlier. It’s why I wanted to hire you.”
“I mean really encrypted. It’s more complicated than I first thought,” West admits.
“Do you think it’s unbreakable?”
“I think it means that whatever is on that drive is a helluva lot more dangerous than you’re telling me. And you still haven’t told me how you got it.”
I set down my coffee, pick up my jelly-filled donut, and wave it at him. “Look. The man who gave it to me said it held the location of thirty million dollars. That’s all I know. I mean, wouldn’t that be reason enough to make it super secure? It’s probably the same principle as not using your birthday as your password.” I shrug then take a bite of the delicious donut.
“Hmmm, this is so good. You have to try it.”
West’s eyes are watching me closely while I wipe up a little leftover chocolate frosting from the corner of my mouth. “Seriously. You have to try this. It’s so good. This is what a donut was meant to be.”
I hold it out to him, and he smirks and shakes his head. “No, thanks.”
“I promise I don’t have girl cooties.”
“I had my cootie shot.”
“Aww, he makes jokes, and he’s old. Please just take a bite. It’ll make me feel better.”
“But it won’t make me feel better,” he replies.
I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
“I’m celiac.”
My brain freezes for one quick second before I remember what celiac is. “Ooooh, so basically, I’m trying to shove poison at you right now?”
“Pretty much.”
I jerk the donut back, not wanting it close to his breathing space. “I am so sorry. Seriously. I really didn’t mean to?—”
He waves me off. “It’s okay, really, you didn’t know. You were being sweet.”
The way he says it, it could be a compliment or something else entirely.
“I promise not to eat any more gluten around you. I don’t want to risk anything. I’ll go throw this away right now.” I go to stand up, but his hand latches onto my wrist.
“No, sit down and enjoy the donut. You eating it isn’t going to hurt me.” He mumbles something else under his breath. I can’t quite catch it, but it could be something along the lines of “at least not that way.”
“I’ll be better in the future,” I promise as I cross my heart—as if there’s going to be a future with me and West together. He’s going to leave me here in this coffee shop, and I’ll never see him again.
“It’s not like I’m going to die from looking at it. It’s not like a severe peanut allergy, but it will make me sick to eat it.”
I stare at him.
All those muscles. A big, strong guy. And a donut can make him sick. Geez. Maybe that’s why those granola bars tasted like cardboard. They had to be gluten-free.
Someone needs to take this man to a good gluten-free bakery and fill his life with some more light. No wonder he was so snappy when we first met. He’s probably been starving himself.