23. Reed #2
Luke ponders that for about five seconds, but I’d imagine he doesn’t know the name of everyone who wanders into his shop any more than I do. “It’s hard to say. Sabrina or Clark could have helped her.”
“Oh, no. I told her to see you specifically.”
Luke purses his lips, her emphasis landing like a dead weight. “Anyone in the store can answer questions about what we sell.”
He’s no dummy. He keeps his voice friendly but flat in an attempt to cut off this conversation before she can really get cooking.
Fran tsks, smoothing her short hair with one hand. “Honey, for this, she needs you. Remember that name. Cassie.”
She turns her attention on me and orders one of the specialty drinks Rose came up with for our summer menu. I meet Luke’s gaze, lifting an eyebrow in question. He shoots it down with a frown heavier than mine.
Apparently, Jovie’s got some competition when it comes to setting up her dad.
“I hope for Rose’s sake you’ve upgraded to an actual house, Reed.” Fran peers over the counter, surveying as I prepare her drink. “I can’t imagine that girl will be happy in fifty square feet of forest shack.”
“One hundred and fifty,” I say automatically. I didn’t realize she knows where I live. Nobody beyond my family has been out there. Not that I know of, anyway. I don’t like to think of Fran and Nora tooling into the woods to spy on my cabin.
Worse, I don’t like to think about Rose in it. Parts of it, maybe, but taken as a whole? Fran’s right. She wouldn’t be happy there. Nobody would. That was the point.
Fran straightens the card reader, then adjusts the sign that says Order Here. “It might be time for you think about moving into town. Putting down roots somewhere.” She pauses, boring a hole in the side of my head. “Making some vows.”
I fumble the lid to her drink cup, dropping it on the floor. Luke chuckles, his smirk turned up to maximum now that her full attention’s on me. I grab another lid, secure her drink, and slide it across the counter.
The look of triumph on her artificially pink lips doesn’t seem justified. “You’d better take good care of Rose. She’s been through it with some no-good men. It’s time for her to be treated right.”
The thought of Rose’s exes makes my fists clench. But Fran’s not wrong. Rose deserves the world. To be not just treated right but cherished. Appreciated. Loved.
There’s that word again, making my throat stick like molasses.
I should have closed early today.
Fran swipes her card, tucking it back in her purse. “And if you can’t, there are plenty of other men in this town.”
Her decisive nod feels like a slap. Can’t say yet whether it’s to knock some sense into me or rule me out entirely. She gives the same crisp nod to Luke for good measure before marching out of the coffee shop.
My brother and I watch her go until the bell on the door finishes jingling. Luke turns back to me. “Good day, I take it?”
I huff a laugh. “I could do without the threatening advice.”
“You and me both.” He orders his usual, our house special, iced brown-sugar latte. “Has Rose seen your cabin?”
“No.” And maybe it should stay that way.
I get to work, but Luke watches me with a strange expression on his face. He’s not typically awkward, but he’s drifting close to that line now.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, amusement tugging at his mouth. “Nothing. Just hate to take my turn after she raked you through the coals.”
“Your turn for what?”
He straightens his shoulders and clears his throat. Standing there in his neat, brown button-down, he looks like he’s ready to recite the Boy Scout oath and offer to help me cross the street.
“I’ve been sent by my friends at the Sunshine Small Business Society.”
The air groans out of me as I pour his stupid latte. “A sneak attack from you?”
“I wouldn’t call it sneaking.”
“Can people not just do their jobs in peace?” As if service with a smile wasn’t enough. Maybe service with a frown in my case, but that should be plenty. I shouldn’t have to network and go to meetings and socialize in my free time, too.
Luke is undaunted. “It fosters community among Sunshine’s small businesses.”
My sigh shakes the container of straws on the counter. “Not the spiel.”
“It builds a sense of camaraderie—”
I hold up a hand. “I’ll stop you right there.”
His stern look probably gets Jovie quaking in her boots, but I’ve grown immune over the years. I’ve got stern looks of my own.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not for me.”
He crosses his arms, flattening me with his unimpressed stare. “Building your business isn’t for you?”
I wish he didn’t sound so much like Rose right now.
“Stuffy groups aren’t for me.”
“It’s the formality that bothers you.” His voice is Sahara-dry.
Probably because the Sunshine Small Business Society is one of the most lax organizations in town.
Apart from maybe the cluster of old men who hang out in front of the hardware store and make snarky comments about people’s DIY projects.
“Fine. Community isn’t for me.”
Owning the coffee shop is already five steps beyond my capabilities, Harry’s “Do better” edict constantly reminding me of my failures.
I’ve barely got my head above water as it is.
Throwing networking meetings and community events into the mix can only make the struggle worse.
Like tossing a dumbbell to a drowning man.
He stares at me for ten whole seconds before he starts laughing. “Community isn’t for you. Okay.”
I set his drink on the counter without meeting his eye. “Is that funny?”
“Kind of, yeah.” He drops his stiff Boy Scout routine. “I told them you wouldn’t be on board.”
Ignoring how he’s patiently waiting for me to engage with him, I wipe down the espresso machine. I don’t love the knee-jerk assumptions about me. Doesn’t matter that they’re right.
“Just so you know, they’re coming after Rose next.” He takes his drink and heads for the door. “What are the odds she wants to join?”
So. Everyone in this town knows my weak spot now.