5. Dexter
DEXTER
In hindsight, I should have immediately called Reg. He was the head of law enforcement in the Four Forest area, and this was a lawful matter. But Reg was extremely protective of his family and friends, and I didn’t want to escalate something I could hypothetically settle with a phone call to Freya.
“Are you saying he threatened you? That’s not like Viggo at all.”
I nodded irritably, though the gesture was lost on the cellular connection.
“Yeah, he definitely threatened me, but he calmed down, and the threat was more subtle and yet…not subtle at all. To be honest, Freya, I’m angry that you told him about me after I specifically asked you to wait.
This is a small town and—” Sniff. “Freya?”
She snuffled loudly. “I’m sorry. Viggo’s very concerned. That’s all. But I’ll t-talk to him.”
More sniffling.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry, Freya. It’s—” I shoved my fingers through my hair and stared, unseeing, at the hockey game on my flat screen. “It’s fine. I’ll work it out with him. We’re practically neighbors, and we’ll have to come to some kind of truce.”
“Yes, yes.” She sighed. “I hope so. I know he looks a little scary, but Viggo’s the best person you’ll ever meet. He’s always been there for me, and if he offered to help you, it’s coming from a good place. He would be there for you…if you let him.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Freya, please take this in the nicest possible way,” I said firmly. “That’s not going to happen. Viggo isn’t my friend or my—”
“I’m…sorry. I should go. I don’t feel well.”
I sat up, instantly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
“No, I think I’m going to be sick, but don’t worry. The doctor told me it’s normal to have morning sickness at night. And the last two nights have been—I have to go.”
The line went dead.
I tossed my cell onto the coffee table and gazed up at the ceiling, willing my pulse to slow down. I wished I could do something for her. Also, I was torn between being extremely peeved and knowing I was completely responsible for this situation. I’d invited this into my life—happily.
Now…
Well, shit just got complicated.
And it stayed complicated for a solid week.
Viggo came by the shop every morning at seven a.m. on the dot. He’d order a medium-sized coffee and an apple fritter. Then he’d step to the side counter to collect his goodies and wait for a word with me. Three words, actually.
“Good morning, Dexter.”
If I was busy with a customer or occupied in the back, he’d wait. Yesterday, Janey peeked her head into the kitchen where I was helping my lead baker, Alberto, organize a tray of freshly decorated donuts.
“He’s here again,” she’d whispered. “What should I say?”
Janey was a cool, perky, middle-aged chick with short brown hair and copious tats.
She managed the shop for me and had hired Meg and Dallas, local twentysomethings who happened to be cousins.
Meg and Dallas traded off mornings during the week, and on weekends, it was all hands on deck.
Including Alberto and his wife, Sandra. In the summer, we hired high school students to keep up with the high demand for daily donuts.
I was lucky. Business had been steady since I’d opened, which I credited to a town-wide sweet tooth and my selection of tried-and-true donuts mixed in with gourmet fare, like today’s cinnamon and jalapeno glaze—which, by the way, was freaking amazing.
Of course, the influx of tourism to the Four Forest area had been great for small-business owners in the community. This was thanks in part to Elmwood’s junior hockey camp and Wood Hollow’s brand-new Mill Depot.
Nowadays, DIY enthusiasts came from far and wide to shop for hardware and lumber and stayed for the hiking, biking, boating, lake views, and to explore the shops and diners.
Wood Hollow wasn’t as fancy, kitschy, or famous as Pinecrest, Fallbrook, or Elmwood, but we were slowly carving an identity as a pretty mill town with pizzazz.
I liked to think Dexter’s Donuts contributed to the pizzazz quotient with a delicious, quality product and friendly employees who went out of their way to greet customers by name, remember their orders, and generally keep them coming back for more.
Janey was the consummate public relations pro, but Viggo stumped her.
“The guy’s an enigma. I’ve seen him around, I know he works at the mill, but that’s it. I didn’t know his name until you told me,” she’d groused yesterday morning. “Vee-go. Interesting. I bet he’s got a crush on you…just like the rest of us.”
I’d rolled my eyes. “I assure you, that’s not the case.”
“Then why is he suddenly our most punctual customer?” she’d taunted, wagging her pierced brows. “C’mon, honey, your fritters are good, but are they that good?”
Yes, but also…no. I couldn’t tell her that Viggo’s new donut habit had to do with establishing a bond or a connection. Maybe? It was awkward as fuck, but it seemed harmless enough. Honestly, I wasn’t sure about that. I was taking this one fritter at a time.
I pulled off my plastic gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
Janey quirked her lips in amusement. “Definitely a crush. Watch yourself, Boss.”
“Ha. Ha.” I brushed by her, fixing a friendly smile on my face as I stepped up to the side counter. “Good morning, Viggo.”
Viggo glanced up from his cell and don’t ask me how, why, or what was going on in my brain, but I couldn’t help thinking he was rather attractive in a rough and tumble kind of way.
He wore a plain black tee under a green flannel shirt that was open in deference to the mild spring morning.
His jeans and work boots were worn in and looked dependable and sturdy… like him.
“Good morning, Dexter,” he replied with a slight nod.
And with that, he pivoted on his heels and walked out the door. Same as every other day this week. But this time, I went after him. I couldn’t explain it other than…I needed more than three words today.
“Viggo!”
He stopped on the sidewalk in front of Mike and Sam’s Pizza, turning with a confused expression half hidden by his coffee cup. He took a sip and waited patiently for me to close the distance.
“I paid for my fritter. And the coffee.”
I wiped my hands on my apron and huffed a laugh. “I know. That’s not it. I…how are you?’
Viggo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
I opened my arms in a gesture of peace. “I was thinking we could move on from ‘good morning,’ if that’s cool with you.”
His frown deepened. “O—kay. I’m fine.”
“And this is where you ask how I’m doing.”
“How are you doing?” he deadpanned.
“Not bad. I slept like shit last night and the alarm went off way too early, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t cure.” I pointed at his to-go cup and continued. “I used new beans. I think the coffee tastes particularly good today. What do you think?”
Poor guy looked mighty uncomfortable…as if this exchange were single-handedly maxing out his social meter for the month.
“It’s good.” He inclined his chin toward the mill meaningfully but seemed to think of something at the last second. “I spoke to Freya last night. She’s sick…a lot.”
And now I was worried.
“We texted yesterday, and she said she was doing much better.”
“She lied,” he replied brusquely. “She can’t keep food down. I’m going to leave work early to visit her and—”
“I’m coming too,” I blurted, unthinking.
Viggo went completely still, his frown etching deep furrows on his forehead. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” I snapped.
Viggo glowered and no lie, it was scary as fuck. I didn’t care. My mind was spinning. Medical experts indicated that it was totally normal to have morning sickness at any time of day, but if Freya had downplayed her symptoms, the baby might be suffering. I didn’t know what to think.
Not true—I was worried.
“Burlington is two hours away.”
“Yeah, I know.” I pulled my cell out to check my schedule, and of course, my day was packed.
I scrolled for Silas’s number, hoping he could cover flag football practice this afternoon.
I was going to owe him big-time. “The soonest I can go is three o’clock.
The traffic won’t be bad and—” Viggo swiped my cell from my hands and glowered. “Hey! Give me my—”
“Listen to me. Are you listening?”
Something in his voice pulled me from my spiral. He wasn’t too harsh or too sharp, but he was definitely commanding. Yep, he had my attention.
“I’m listening.”
Viggo dropped my cell into the pocket of my apron and met my gaze. “Freya has morning sickness…that’s all. No one wants an audience when they’re sick. I will see her, assess her condition, and report back to you. Okay?”
I felt my shoulders lower into place at his calming tone. “Yes. Thanks. I should get your contact information. Let me know how it goes.”
“No, I’ll buy another fritter tomorrow and tell you everything.”
“Uh-uh. Nope. All I’m asking for is a text. Here. Your hands are full. Gimme your cell.” Big sigh. I waggled my fingers. “You know, I’ll settle for an emoji as long as it’s not a thumbs-up sign. Better yet, send me a gif.”
“I don’t do that,” he grumbled, handing over his phone.
“I do. My gif game is strong.” I input my number and returned his cell.
“Are we finished now?”
“I think so.”
The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Good. You’re very stubborn.”
I huffed incredulously. “Me?”
Viggo chuckled as he turned away. No…it wasn’t a chuckle—more of a harrumph of amusement. It was a nice sound. Steady, sure, and confident.
And now I was staring.
Oh, shit…I wasn’t the only one. I noted the curious gazes of passersby and wondered what the Wood Hollow rumor mill would conjure. I should warn Viggo.
Nah, let him squirm.
“Everything okay, Dex?” Layla shifted the pink box in her hands as she darted a concerned glance between me and Viggo’s retreating back. See?
“Uh…yeah.” I nodded politely. “You picked up a few donuts, huh?”