Page 114 of The Sinner's Bargain

I traced the looping, gold font etched into the cover. “I do like Austen,” I whispered.

Ivelle beamed. “Still got the touch.” But the smile dimmed. “But that’s not what you really like, is it?”

I started to assure her it was. Of the approved list of books I was allowed, Jane Austen was number three.

But Ivelle had moved away from me to scan the shelves several bays down. She was muttering to herself and she bent and rose, scooting further along.

“Ah ha!” she announced, yanking a black and gold volume free and running over with it. “This. This is the one you need.”

The title was gone. Faded with time to a mere smudge against the fabric. I could just make out an O. Maybe a U, but everything else was illegible. Even the spine kept its secret. So, I had to wonder how Ivelle knew what to look for.

“It’s one of my favorites, too,” she said as if reading my thoughts.

“What is it?”

The other girl put up her hands in feign uncertainty. “You’ll just have to read it.”

Jane Austen was taken from my arms and returned to the shelf. Ivelle grinned and motioned me to the counter. I followed her, not sure what else to do. She pulled a stool out for me and hurried around to the other side.

“Macy, tables!” Ivelle called over her shoulder to a cloth door I hadn’t seen just tucked in the far corner of the counter.

It slapped open and a sulky blonde marched out with a rag.

Ivelle sighed and rolled her eyes before facing me with her bright smile. “What’s your poison?”

I stared at her. “My what?”

“Poison,” she repeated. “Your drink. What do you like?”

“Oh.” I tried to find something on the list that I recognized but with names like Zeus’s Thunderbolt, and Voldemort’s Nose, I was lost. “What do you like?” I asked instead.

Ivelle smirked. “Spit of the Sanderson Sisters it is!”

I blanched. “The what?”

The girl burst out laughing as she dug out a long, slender glass. “It’s not real spit. I created it myself so I can promise it’s good ... and health inspector friendly.”

I sat and watched her line the inside of the cup with caramel and fill it was something cold, thick and chocolate. The top had whipped cream and more caramel with chocolate shavings.

It was pushed across the counter at me.

I hadn’t witnessed any spitting, but my first sip was still tentative.

The level of sweetness nearly had me gagging. It was thick sugar in a cup. It must have shown on my face because Ivelle grimaced.

“I guess I should have mentioned I have a serious sweet tooth...” She took the glass from me. “How about some tea?”

Relieved I actually understood that one, I nodded.

It was rose tea with a drizzle of honey and three biscuits. The cup and saucer were placed in front of me and Ivelle left me to read and enjoy the tea without being asked. I really appreciated that as I opened the first page.

I was about three chapters in when the bell above the door tinkled, jarring me from the scene unfolding across the pages. It had been so quiet up until that moment. Even Ivelle and Macy had ducked into the back room when no one else came in. Cyrus, the single time I’d glanced up at him, was on his phone. Still in that uncomfortable piece of furniture in the very far corner, tucked nearly entirely out of sight.

So, when the women stormed in with a clatter of feet and high voices, it was impossible to miss.

There were three of them. I could just make out their distorted features in the collage of glass over the counter. The thin redhead seemed to be the leader as she clapped on teetering heels in the direction of the orange sofa in the middle of the room. The other two followed, both talking at the same time to each other. Their words overlapped and buzzed together but neither seemed bothered.

“I’m telling you,” the redhead huffed, dropping gracelessly onto the middle cushion, leaving her friends to gather in either side of her on the mismatched armchairs surrounding the coffee table. “It’s obscene the way that man carries on.”

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