9. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Scarlett
My eyes snap open; at the same time, my heart lurches into my throat. Jolting up, I stare at the clock before tossing the covers off and running to the bathroom.
It took me way longer than usual to write, record, and upload the podcast last night. When I finally dragged myself to bed and closed my eyes, all I could think about was Steven and how badly I wanted to take my own advice.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I yank open a drawer. I shove my legs into a pair of jeans. I hop up and down to wiggle in my jeans while trying to brush my teeth frantically.
Racing back into my bedroom, I zip up my jeans and throw on a Florida Panthers hoodie before stuffing my bare feet in socks.
Scooping up my phone and keys on my way out the door, I grumble when my socked foot hits the first step. Back in to put on shoes.
Fifteen minutes.
The shop needs to be open and ready in fifteen minutes. But when I get out of my building instead of going right, my body moves left, following the heavenly scent of roasted coffee beans.
The bells over the door jingle and I let my nose lead the way, since I’m not sure I can trust my bleary eyesight.
“Scarlett?” A deep voice says, and I glance up to see Declan Graham eyeing me from head to toe. When his dancing eyes meet mine, a flush warms my skin. “Just roll out of bed?”
“No,” I say, running my hands over the top of my head. “Just in a rush.”
“I guess that would be why you left the house with one pant leg tucked in a sock?” His mouth twitches.
Looking at my feet, I groan before reaching down to pull the cuff of my jeans over said sock. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s a new fashion style?”
“Is it?”
My mouth hinges until I see the twinkle in his eyes, and I snap it shut. Not saying another word. I turn toward the menu boards and pretend like I don’t know what I’m getting.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing a Wolverines hoodie?” He points a finger at my sweatshirt.
“Huh?” I glance down and see the Panthers logo. “Does it matter? Panthers, Wolverines. It’s all the same.”
Declan holds my gaze, an unreadable look in his eyes, before shrugging a shoulder. “I guess, but the last time Bennett heard you were wearing some other team’s swag, he wasn’t so happy about it.”
His lip curls up at the corner, and my eyes narrow.
“That was years ago. And something that you fabricated. Not to mention Steven’s—”
“Here you go, Declan. Sorry it took me so long.” Millie, one of Steven’s mom’s employees, comes from the back holding a large cup. The smile lighting her face is so bright it would rival the sun. “Oh, hi Scarlett. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Millie’s face is flushed, her eyes bright as she places the cup on the counter and slowly pushes it toward Declan. Her eyes never leave him.
Glancing over at the man beside me, I can’t help but notice how the hard planes of his face have softened, not to mention the slanted grin he has as he’s watching Millie. My brows knit together, and I tug at my lower lip.
As if remembering they have an audience, Declan clears his throat.
“Thanks, Millie.” Grabbing his cup, he drops a twenty in the tip jar.
“Declan, that’s too much.”
My eyes bounce between the two of them.
Millie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, while Declan’s gaze stays locked on her. “Nah. I appreciate you going above and beyond.”
“It’s just a—”
Declan drops his hand on the counter and leans in slightly. A real smile crosses his lips, not the cocky one he usually wears, and his voice drops. “I appreciate it, Mills.”
Millie nods; color rises in her cheeks as she glances at him from under her lashes. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll see you later.” His gaze holds hers a beat longer than necessary, and then he turns to leave. As he pushes the door open, he remembers I’m still here. “Bye, James. I’ll make sure to let Bennett know we chatted.”
His grin turns wicked, and my insides knot remembering the last time Declan told Steven the two of us ‘talked’. I don’t know exactly what was said, but it was bad enough that it ruined their friendship, and completely knocked Steven off his game.
The fact that it happened while his dad was in hospice just made it even worse.
Working to keep my expression neutral, I dip my chin.
I turn back toward Millie and find her still watching Declan as he passes by the storefront window.
Glancing at my phone, I can’t help but tap my foot. Twelve minutes.
“Sorry, Scarlett!” Millie gives the counter a quick sweep with her hand. “What can I get for you today? Your usual?”
“Can you make it a triple?”
“A triple?!” Millie’s brows shoot up. “Long night?”
“Very. I was helping Emma with her podcast, and it took more time than anticipated."
“It was really great though!” Mille says as she begins the process of making my latte. “I listened on my way to work. I always listen to Love From The Stands. Emma gives the best advice.”
My chest swells, and my lip pulls up. “Oh, I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Emma will be pleased to hear that.”
“Do you think that could fit you and Steven? You know, being best friends and all.”
“Steven and me? Of course not.” My voice squeaks; I brush it off with a wave of my hand. “We’re very clearly just friends.”
My throat tightens, and I grab the string from my hoodie, rolling it through my fingers. What will Steven think when…if…he listens. Will he see the similarities to us?
Putting the string in my mouth, I mumble. “I have to stop thinking about that.”
“Did you say something?” She shouts, over the frother.
“Just talking to myself.” Throwing a thumb over my shoulder, I ask loudly, “So how do you know Declan Graham?”
“He’s my cousin’s best friend.”
“Ahhh, that makes sense.”
She spins and slides the cup halfway across the counter before I rip it out of her hand and take a gulp.
“Careful, it’s—”
“Owwwww!” I stick my tongue out and wave a hand in front of it.
“Hot.” Her eyes sparkle as she rings me up. “What makes sense?”
“Declan,” I cough out, still trying to cool off my burning tongue. “He’s nice to you.”
Millie furrows her brow. “Isn’t he nice to everyone?”
“Ha! No.” I scoff and tap my card on the reader. “Usually the only words he’s dishing out are sarcastic or arrogant. Rarely kind.”
“Hmmm,” Millie hums, biting her bottom lip.
“Maybe your cousin gave him a warning to be on his best behavior?”
“Now that’s entirely possible!” She chuckles, but I can’t help but notice it’s half-hearted. Disappointed sounding even. “Brian would definitely have something to say if Dec was a jerk.”
“Makes sense. How lucky you are to have a protector.” I lift my cup toward her. “Thanks Millie.” Making my way toward the exit.
“Scarlett?” She calls, just as my hand touches the handle. “Do you know if Emma is taking on any new clients?”
I glance over my shoulder. She’s carefully wiping down the counter.
“Yup. All you have to do is go to her website and fill out the new client questionnaire.”
She nods, but then looks like she wants to ask something else. I cut her off. “I’m sorry, but if I don’t get to the bakery and open it, my uncle is not going to be very happy with me. Feel free to stop by later, and I can be of more help.”
Without waiting for her to respond, I slip out the door, hoping that after what I just witnessed, she doesn’t want me to set her up with Declan.
She deserves someone really great. That’s not him. And yet I’ve never seen him act that way with anyone.
“Nah.” Shaking my head, I take a long sip of my coffee.
But what about Steven?
Could Millie be a match for him?
As I lower the cup from my lips, a wave of nausea rolls through me. Sighing, I glance at the spot where Steven parked his car last night.
It’s empty.
When I finally turn my attention to the bakery, I notice two people waiting outside the entrance. Forcing a smile, I quickly look at my phone. Five minutes.
“I’ll be opening shortly,” I say as I rush through the door.
All but running to the kitchen area, I throw on my ‘Duncan’s Donuts For Dogs’ apron and take the last swig of coffee.
While pulling out the trays of dog treats for the display case with my other hand.
I groan when I see that I only have one tray of each option.
And only one cookie of the dog with number forty-five on its jersey.
Running a finger across the smooth surface, I swallow past a tight throat. I hesitate for a second, then reach inside the drawer for a bag. I slide that last cookie inside and put it aside for later.
For my best friend.
I quickly finish setting up and go to unlock the door. The sign gets flipped and another busy day stretches out in front of me.