Page 24 of Just Between Us

“Morning.” I had attempted to sound bright and cheerful, and instead the word came out like an accusation.

The baker’s head whipped up, eyes wide. “It is.”

I pulled my shoulders back and tipped my head toward the bakery. “Open for business?”

He swept a large palm toward the door. “First customer of the day.”

I walked through the glass door and was immediately hit with the warm scent of chocolate and freshly baked pastries.I scanned the glass display case, brimming with decadent treats. My eyes pinged between blueberry muffins with a crumb topping, cheese Danishes with a raspberry swirl, and a bear claw the size of my face.

Huck slid behind the register. “What’ll it be?”

My eyes glanced at the menu. “A macchiato espresso, upside down.” I flicked a manicured nail toward the pastries. “And a bear claw. Please.”

Huck angled his body toward the espresso machine. “Uh ... I’m more of a behind-the-scenes, covered-in-flour kind of guy. I can probably figure out a black coffee if you’d like.”

I blinked at him. It was clear customer service was his least favorite part of owning a business. Instead of being put out like I normally would be, I found him endearing.

I smiled. “How about just the bear claw?”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “That I can do.”

Using tongs, Huck slid the bear claw between a sheet of parchment paper and set it on the counter in front of me.

I reached into my bag to retrieve my wallet, but his hand came up. “On the house.”

I tried to argue, but he shook his head. “It’s the least I can do for being an incompetent barista.”

A soft laugh pushed through my nose. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and I appreciated he wasn’t the type to engage in mindless chitchat just for the sake of small talk.

Huck pointed toward the large picture window at the front of the bakery. A row of seats were tucked into the countertop that ran the length of the window. “That spot is the best seat in the house. A whole lot happens in this town if you just take the time to slow down and watch.”

I turned and appreciated the cozy atmosphere of the bakery as I took my seat at the high-top bar against the window. Small tables dotted the open space, and I could imagine friendsmeeting for coffee or old men playing cards and spending the day gossiping.

I was itching to dive into my work, but JP had made it clear that understanding the nuances of his small town was a part of seeing the whole picture and the role his father played in it.

I could enjoy my ridiculously large bear claw and watch as Outtatowner came to life. I would call it research.

Sure, why the hell not?

Settling into the best seat in the house, I placed my black leather bag in the seat beside me. After pulling out my earbuds, I slipped them on and brought up a playlist titledDon’t Get Mad, Get Even.

To my left, Main Street ambled on toward the lakefront. Businesses lined the streets, and the sidewalks had large concrete planting boxes bursting with foliage and flowers. At the end of the road, the hill crested, and I could just barely make out the marina that led to the lake stretching out beyond it.

I hadn’t yet explored past the marina, but I knew the beach was located just beyond the docks. Down a long, sloping path stood Outtatowner’s iconic lighthouse.

To the right, early-morning rays of crimson-and-gold sunlight were just beginning to peek beyond the tops of the trees. A few cars rolled lazily down the street.

It was quiet. Tranquil.

It was the kind of lazy, quiet morning that made it all too easy to let my thoughts wander.

I hated it.

If I sat too quiet for too long, I would inevitably start thinking about how tired I was and how little I had to show for it. Normally if working was out of the question, I would zone out by mindlessly scrolling social media or talking tohim.

I tapped my nail on the counter.

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