Page 18 of Reckless King

Two young women clutching to-go cups step outside as Mark and I approach. Their eyes widen as they pass, then they hunch close, whispering and giggling as they scurry down the sidewalk.

Mark smirks at me over his shoulder. “You’ve still got it, old man,” he says.

I shake my head. “You’re two months older than me, asshole.”

The bell above the door jangles as he opens it, and I follow him inside. It takes a moment to adjust to the dimmer lighting, but when I do, I scan the shop. There’s a quiet murmur of conversation, but though there are a few people seated around the compact space, more tables are empty than full.

Standing behind the counter is a young, dark-haired man wearing a smile. “Hey, Mark. Good to see you.”

“Hi Jarrod.” Mark steps closer and chats with him, but I tune out their small talk and take in the interior of the coffee shop more thoroughly. The shop isn’t dirty or falling apart. Not at all. It’s actually spotless. It’s obvious that Violet and her staff take pride in keeping everything clean. But the signage is faded and out of date. The tables and chairs are mismatched, and not in the quirky way some places pull off. Even the pastry cabinet looks a little bare and sad.

“Violet’s in the back,” Jarrod says, drawing my attention to their conversation. “I’ll get her for you. You want something while you wait?”

We both order a coffee, then Jarrod disappears through the door which presumably leads to the kitchen, while Mark and I take a seat at a table near the back.

Before I have a chance to do more than pick up the menu, the door swings back open, and Violet rushes out, a wide smile on her face aimed directly at Mark. I take a moment to look her over, from the hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun—the honey brown hue a little darker than when I last saw her, if I’m not mistaken—to her black tank top and black denim cutoffs. Even her Chucks and the little apron tied around her slender waist are black. In those shorts, her smooth, tanned legs look a mile long. The pretty, slightly awkward twenty-one-year-old woman I remember from years ago has morphed into a gorgeous-as-fuck woman.

As she emerges from behind the counter, her eyes find me. Her smile freezes for a split-second before she glances away. It’s back again in all its brilliance as she approaches and gives her brother a hug.

I rub my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. Apparently, she still hasn’t forgivenorforgotten.

Standing, I force her to acknowledge my presence.

Those clear blue eyes finally turn my way, giving my pulse a strange jolt. “Tate.”

“Violet,” I say. “It’s been a long time.”

Her full lips press together, then she tilts her head to the side and gives me a too-sweet smile. “Has it? I hadn’t noticed.”

The attitude sends a familiar kick of excitement through me.

I chuckle. “So it’s safe to say absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder?”

She wrinkles her nose and turns back to her brother, dismissing meandmy teasing. “Are you eating, or did you come to check up on me?”

The words are casual. Even her tone, for the most part. But there’s a thread of tension underlying both. Interesting. Maybe she really does want Mark to give her space.

“Tate wanted to grab lunch, and I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” he says. “I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.”

The hint of tension I swear I picked up on melts away. Now she just looks guilty. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited more. By the time I get home, I’m so tired I just want to stay in, read a good book and have a glass of wine. I’ve been crashing early most nights. But I’ll make more of an effort, I promise.” She wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes.

Their easy affection tightens my chest. I’ve never had that type of relationship with anyone. Shit. I can’t even remember the last time I hugged someone.

Violet releases her brother and smiles up at him. “You want your usual?” When he nods, she glances back at me, though she focuses somewhere around the knot of my tie rather than meeting my eye. “Are you eating too?” There’s no missing how her tone flattens when she addresses me.

“I can’t wait to try what you’re serving up.”

That gets her to focus on my face. I grin, and in response, she narrows her eyes, probably sifting through my words to find a hidden meaning.

“What do you recommend?” I ask.

She presses her lips together, then lets out a breath. “We don’t have a large menu at the moment.”

Her eyes flash with what might be embarrassment. Not that she has any reason to be ashamed. Considering what Mark said about her working to get this place back on its feet, having a small menu makes good business sense.

“But the grilled chicken avocado wrap is really good,” she continues. “And the ham and cheese panini is always popular.”

“I’ll have the wrap, thanks.”

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