Page 11 of Haunted Ever After

Five

Whoa! Busy morning.

Nick closed his eyes in a slow blink before answering the text. Nothing like running a business while being constantly supervised. It’s the chocolate chips I put in the banana bread. Makes the people come running!

There was a long pause before Elmer replied. Heathen.

Hey, I’m just giving the people what they want.

What the people want is for you to stop fucking with the banana bread.

How many times could Nick roll his eyes in one morning?

Elmer was able to read into his silence, even via text. I’m not trying to be a dick, he responded, even though he was totally being a dick. My recipe notebook is still in the back somewhere. There’s a lemon pound cake I used to do that I bet would go over great. Maybe try that.

Sure. Nick left the reply vague. He knew what notebook Elmer meant; a battered green spiral-bound notebook—he’d found it the first month he’d taken over the café. Most of the recipes taped onto its pages had clearly been clipped from magazines and the backs of boxes. No culinary secrets there. Nick had flipped through it just in case, but the only thing of note was a photo of Elmer and his wife, Dolores, stuck between the pages in the back. It had been taken in front of the café sometime in the 1970s, judging by the cars parked on the street and the quality of the color of the photo. Funny how the place hadn’t changed much since then. He had carefully put the photo back before leaving the notebook on the upper shelf where he’d found it.

Nick glanced down at his phone, but Elmer had clearly finished giving advice. For now, anyway. He stowed his phone away and got back to cleaning up after the morning rush. It had been a relatively busy morning, especially for this time of year. It was too early for the summer season, but this was a Friday in Florida. There were always tourists, and some three-day weekenders had started to trickle in. The pastry cabinet was almost empty.

The bell over the door chimed, and Nick gritted his teeth. He loved tourists, but he hated tourists. Especially when he’d just finished wiping everything down and it was almost time to set up for lunch. But tourists paid the bills, so he plastered a smile onto his face as best he could. It probably looked more like a wince, but what the hell. Then he looked up and, like his wildest hopes had conjured her, there she was. Messy bun and T-shirt, bag over her shoulder. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Thanks a lot. It’s that stellar customer service that keeps me coming back.” But she frowned as she looked around the café. Nick followed her gaze, then he frowned too. Coming out from behind the counter, he stalked to the back table. The one near the outlet. The one that was currently occupied. Theo had been there for almost an hour, nursing that same cup of coffee and reading.

“Don’t you have a bookstore to run?”

Theo turned a page, unconcerned, as he shook his head. “I open at noon on Fridays.”

“It’s close enough to noon. And that’s her table.” Nick snatched the mostly empty coffee mug. “Let me warm this up for you. In a to-go cup.” Behind him, he heard the thud of Theo snapping his book closed before he followed Nick to the counter.

“What the hell?”

“Don’t want you to be late.” Nick filled a to-go cup with fresh coffee and pushed it across the counter.

Theo took the coffee with a quizzical expression. “Thanks?”

“Just looking out for you, man.” He waved off Theo’s card. “On me. Don’t worry about it.” It was the least he could do for kicking the guy out.

Cassie stayed frozen by the door, watching as Theo left, then turned her head to watch Nick clear away Theo’s used plate and give the table a quick wipe down.

“What was that you were saying about customer service?” That came out a little more gruff than he’d intended, and Cassie jumped as though startled.

“I said it was stellar.” She moved quickly to her table. “Keeps me coming back.”

“Ah, bullshit,” he said through the smile blooming across his face. “It’s the Wi-Fi and I know it.”

“And your outlet, of course.” She lifted the power cord in illustration before plugging it into said outlet. “Laptop’s dead again.”

“Hazelnut latte, right?” He moved toward the espresso machine. “What did Buster have to say?”

“You read my mind. Iced, please.” She followed him, leaning her elbows on the counter, and Nick tried not to notice her watching him make her drink. “Buster said everything was fine, and the laptop worked when he plugged it in. But I took it to the back porch yesterday since it was so nice outside. And this morning it was dead. Again.” She examined the remaining baked goods in the pastry case. “Any cinnamon today?”

He shook his head. “Chocolate chip.” He raised his eyes in a question and she nodded. They were already at nonverbal communication. That had to be a good sign, right? Nick pushed that thought down and forced himself back on topic. “That’s weird about your outlet.”

“It really is. I’m trying to tell myself it’s a charming quirk of owning an old house, but when it keeps me from getting work done it’s not so charming.” The look in her eyes was practically lascivious as he plated the banana bread and handed it to her. She broke off a corner, popping it in her mouth. “Oh, damn. I renounce cinnamon.”

“You can like both, you know.” He set the coffee down in front of her. “I take it you’re staying for a bit?”

She nodded, taking a long pull off her iced latte. The resulting moan made things within him tighten. Things that were inappropriate for a work setting at ten thirty-five in the morning. “I’ve got a project due by the end of the day. I promise I’ll stay out of your way.”

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