Page 9 of My Vigilante Valentine

No, what kept me up at night was the thought of what could’ve happened if The Blade hadn’t shown up when he did.

Or, worse, if he ever decided to clock out for good.

Some people thought he was dangerous. They wanted him gone, and they wanted him to let the cops do their job.

But I wasn’t here for that. Slate Harbor felt a little less hopeless with him in it, like maybe the bad guys had to think twice. In fact, thanks to the media coverage from the other day’s events, I’d bet good money there would be a break in attempted bank robberies for a while.

Scanning the nook under my side of the counter, I glanced over the dozen or so sticky notes with my tasks scrawled on them in erasable pen.

Restock oat milk.

Fix that wobbly chair

before someone sues us.

Work on Valentine’s Day specials.

To anyone else, my collection of to-do’s would probably look like a minefield—and no way to run a business.Looking at you, Caffeine Fiend.

But to me? This wasn’t mayhem. It was my beautifully messy roadmap to keeping Wilde Brew from collapsing in on itself.

“Tell me why this mac is curing all my problems.”

I glanced back up at Madison, who was fork-deep in cheesy bliss, her notes abandoned. “Because it’s the best study sustenance ever.”

“Why is it even on the menu? Not that I’m mad about it, but it’s the one thing here that doesn’t match the whole coffee-and-pastries aesthetic. Feels kinda random.”

“It’s my favorite. Perks of being the owner.” I punctuated my statement with a wink, and as Madison laughed and looked more relaxed than she had when she’d walked in here today, the shop felt a little warmer.

Not sweaty warm, but the kind of warm that reminded me why I’d worked myself to the bone to open Wilde Brew in the first place.

I’d dreamed people would come here for more than just the coffee and baked goods. And yeah, maybe that was another reason for having the ultimate comfort food on the menu.

Truly, Wilde Brew was designed to be a sanctuary. A place where people could leave their worries at the door and find solace in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and old books.

I eyed a few familiar faces browsing the packed shelves—donated paperbacks, thrift store rescues, and a few from my own collection I’d stashed here instead of my tiny apartment upstairs.

People were free to borrow or swap, an honor system that somehow worked despite downtown Slate Harbor’s crime rate not exactly being suburban-level.

But, see? Another reason that it made sense that I was all for The Blade.

Having someone out there fighting back against the people who wanted to wreak havoc in our city?Priceless.

As I wiped down the counter, I paused to rearrange the lineup of colorful mugs. No boring corporate cups here. One had a grumpy cat flipping off the world, and another—a favorite of mine—proudly declared,Caffeine and Chaos.

The bell over the door chimed, its familiar jingle pulling my gaze up.

I grinned as Chris slid onto his usual stool at the counter, flipping open his laptop like he was about to cure world hunger.

With a nod, I grabbed the mug I always reserved for him—the one withI Turn Coffee into Codeslapped across it in bold letters—and filled it with dark roast before he even asked.

I was a good cousin like that.

Plus, it wasn’t like I had to guess. Chris was nothing if not a creature of habit. Coffee, black. The more bitter, the better.

Except...

I glanced at the clock. “You’re late,” I said, sliding the mug to him. “Good thing I lost track of time this morning, or I might’ve called in a search party.”

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