Chapter 13
I offered again to make breakfast, but Xander said he wasn’t hungry. So, we both did our best to pretend everything was totally normal—as if—and got on with our day.
Claiming he had a few final adjustments to make to the hot tub, Xander headed out to the deck.
Meanwhile, I went behind the front desk.
I stood there for I don’t know how long, staring at the computer screen without seeing a damn thing.
Seriously, who was I kidding? I couldn’t concentrate on work.
Since Xander had agreed to stay, my heart had stopped its erratic beating, but my thoughts were still circling my skull at a record-breaking clip.
Clearly, business as usual was not happening this morning.
There was too much to wrap my mind around.
Xander was a merman. An actual merman.
He had been hunted.
He was still in danger. And maybe I was too.
I felt like my head was about to explode.
I needed to get out of here for a bit. Only, I’d just convinced Xander to stay by swearing I’d protect him. I wasn’t sure how to square that circle.
But to look out for him properly, I needed to look out for myself, didn’t I? Like, in an airplane emergency, people were supposed to put their own oxygen masks on first.
So, I told Xander I had to run a quick errand.
I made him promise he would remain in his human form and not let anyone in while I was gone.
Then, satisfied he would be safe on his own for a few minutes, I affixed the “Be Right Back” side of the sign to the B and B’s front door and jogged over to the bakery.
It was still early, and Kneadful Things didn’t open until ten. But I knew Garth would have already been in there for hours, preparing the day’s supply of fresh baked goods. I knocked on the window. And knocked again.
Sure enough, Garth poked his head out of the kitchen, his face dusted here and there with flour. Seeing it was me, he wiped his hands on his apron and came over to unlock the door.
“Chocolate,” I said as soon as he pulled the door open. “I need chocolate. Stat.”
Garth narrowed his eyes at me, taking me in from head to toe. That was when I realized I was still wearing the T-shirt and sweatpants I’d slept in with just the old sweater and my beat-up moccasins to insulate me from the cold. As my friend’s eyes widened, I knew I must have looked a fright.
But in the win column, my slapdash appearance seemed to convince him my chocolate emergency was the real deal.
He quickly ushered me inside and pointed to one of the three little white tables by the storefront window where patrons could stay a while to enjoy a coffee and one of his fresh-from-the-oven masterpieces. “Sit,” he said.
I did as I was told. When Garth disappeared into the kitchen, I leaned back in the chair and drew comfort from the cozy heat of the bakeshop. Inhaling deeply, I breathed in the mouthwatering aromas of sugar and spice and everything nice.
Less than a minute later, Garth reappeared, carrying a small white plate piled high with three enormous chocolate croissants. He set the plate down in front of me. “Eat,” he said.
As if he needed to tell me. I dove on the croissants, grabbed one, and took a huge bite.
Dear God, it was still warm and melty inside.
I chewed slowly, relishing the comforting taste of bittersweet chocolate wrapped in flaky, buttery pastry.
While I savored the deliciousness, letting it soothe me, Garth got busy on his phone.
By my third bite, Drew was at the door, looking as disheveled as I probably did. He and Garth lived right above the bakery, but unlike his husband, Drew wasn’t an early riser. I was pretty sure Garth had just gotten him out of bed. On my account. Damn!
Garth unlocked the door again, and Drew came charging in. He had a wild look in his eyes as they settled on me. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”
My mouth was full, so I just shook my head.
Drew and Garth exchanged a look, another one of their silent communications. Then, with a frown of concern in my direction, Garth returned to the kitchen, leaving me alone with my BFF.
“Hannah, what happened?” Drew repeated. He sat down in the chair opposite me and ran a hand over his unshaven face and back through his hair, making his current bedhead situation even worse. “You can tell me. Did Xander do something?” he pressed. “Did he?”
Uh-oh. I stopped chewing. I probably should have thought this all through a little better before I’d come rushing over here, demanding my stress-relieving edible of choice. I should have realized it would stir up all kinds of alarming speculations. Like this.
Shaking my head again, I started to swallow.
“I knew there was something fishy about that guy,” muttered Drew.
I almost choked on my bite of croissant.
Drew was starting to look angry. “If he hurt you—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, calm down,” I said after I cleared my throat. “Xander didn’t hurt me. Do I look hurt?”
“But he did something?” Drew persisted.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell my best friend the whole fantastic story. Only, I knew there was no way he would ever believe it. Hell, I barely believed it. Anyway, it wasn’t my story to tell.
“I can’t talk about it,” I said.
Not surprisingly, that did less than zero to allay Drew’s concerns.
There was a rap on the window next to us, startling us both.
We turned to see Rita, with Mavis in her stroller and a small sack of groceries in the vehicle’s storage compartment.
My other friend waved and pointed to the door.
After a beat, Drew got up and turned the key that was still in the lock to let her in.
“Are you guys opening early now?” she asked him, wheeling Mavis into the shop. The baby was gurgling happily, so maybe her teething pain had subsided.
Drew shook his head. “Chocolate emergency,” he said, pointing at me.
I dropped the half-eaten croissant back onto the plate. Obviously, this had been a bad idea. And it was proving worse by the moment.
Knitting her brows, Rita parked the stroller and sat down in the chair Drew had vacated.
“What kind of chocolate emergency?” she asked me, ripping off a piece of my discarded pastry.
“Is this a category one, I-just-failed-the-pop-quiz-in-chem chocolate emergency? Or a category five, Ethan-Silver-asked-someone-else-to-the-prom chocolate emergency?”
“It’s a Xander-did-something chocolate emergency,” Drew answered before I could. He dragged up a chair from another table and sat with us. “Category still to be determined.”
“Xander did something?” asked Rita through her mouthful of croissant. She swallowed, considering this. “With a tape measure?” she asked, sounding almost hopeful.
Drew shot a confused look over at Rita. “With what?”
“Xander didn’t do anything with a tape measure,” I told Rita. “And he didn’t do anything to hurt me,” I reiterated to Drew.
“But he did…something?” Rita asked gently.
“He fixed the hot tub,” I offered with the brightest smile I could muster.
Neither Drew nor Rita seemed satisfied by that explanation. They continued to eye me like a pair of helicopter parents.
With a sigh, I looked from one of my friends to the other. It was sweet how protective they were. Annoying as hell, but sweet. I wished there was some way to make them understand it was Xander, not me, who could really use their protection.
“Honestly,” I said, “between Xander and me, I’m not the one to be worried about.”
Drew raised his eyebrows. “So, Xander’s in some kind of trouble?”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Gambling debts?” asked Drew.
“No.”
“Love affair gone wrong?” asked Rita.
“No.”
“Then, what?” asked Drew. “Has he got a hit man after him or something?”
He was kidding. Only, his joke had gotten a little too close to the truth.
I hesitated to reply. And, of course, he picked up on that.
“Oh, Christ,” said Drew. He pulled out his phone. “That’s it. I’m calling the police.”
“No!” I tried to grab Drew’s phone, but he held it out of my reach. “Stop it. There’s no hit man. I swear.”
“Then, what?” asked Rita. “Would you please just tell us what’s going on?”
I sighed again. This double-teaming was starting to wear me down. “Can’t you just take my word that I’m fine? That everything’s fine?”
“Well, clearly, it’s not,” said Drew.
“So, come on,” said Rita. “Fess up.”
I frowned. I’d gotten myself into this rock-versus-hard-place situation, and I didn’t know how to get out of it. I didn’t want to betray Xander’s confidence. But I hated not being truthful with my friends.
“Hannah,” said Rita, “I swear, if you don’t come clean right now, I’m going to tell Joey D that you have sex dreams about him and moan his name in your sleep.”
My jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right,” said Drew. “She probably wouldn’t. But you know I would.” He tapped his phone screen to wake it up. “Let me see if I have his num—”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, finally breaking. “Look. I can’t reveal Xander’s secret. Not without his permission. But maybe, if you come back to the Sunny Side with me—”
“Done,” said Drew, jumping out of his seat so fast he almost knocked his chair over backward. “Let’s go.”