Page 33 of Deceiving Grier

“What makes you think there’s something with me and Sawyer?”

“Because you look at him like a starving man looking at a juicy steak.”

“That’s not flattering to either of us,” Grier said.

I don’t know. I didn’t hate the idea of Grier looking at me like he wanted to eat me.

“You’re stalling,” Alistair said. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing. It’s no big deal. We’re just, you know, doing things.”

Silence stretched between them until, finally, Grier said, “Fine, we’re having sex.”

“I knew it!” Alistair said.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re quite the detective, Sherlock.”

“You know,” Alistair said, “that roommate pact was in place for a reason.”

“It’s not like that,” Grier said. “We’re not dating. This isn’t a relationship. It’s just sex, nothing more.”

It was true, of course. I knew that. Hell, I’d pretty much said the same thing when Grier had brought up theroommate pact. So why then, did hearing him say the words out loud feel as though I'd been punched in the gut?

Chapter Thirteen

Grier

Thebelloverthecafe’s door chimed, and Bailey rushed in from the rain falling in sheets outside. Slate-colored clouds hung low and fat in the sky as if they might swallow the streets inside their dark, billowy mass.

Bailey shook out their umbrella and hung up their coat in the back room before returning to join me behind the counter. While I passed the man I was serving his latte and cashed him out, Bailey hovered at my side.

The shop was unusually slow for a Sunday, the bleak weather keeping people at home. Lana had taken advantage of the lack of customers and slipped away to the closet-like office in the back to catch up on paperwork, while Bailey had made a run to the bank, leaving me to man the shop on my own.

“Harry Walters is closing his store,” Bailey said, as soon as the man I’d been serving left.

Harry had been an Oceanwind Square staple since The Square’s inception. There were only a few businesses in The Square that had been here from the beginning: the hotel, The Dunes and the little diner near the boardwalk that sold burgers and ice cream to the tourists on the beach. But all of those places had changed owners and managers over the years. Only Harry’s shop had remained nearly unchanged over the past three decades.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Where did you hear that?”

“I spoke to him when I was at the bank,” Bailey said. “He wants to retire.”

“Wow.” On one level, it made sense. The man was well into his seventies. Still, I couldn’t imagine The Square without him. “It feels like the end of an era.”

“Right? First, Oliver Mackenzie dies, and now Harry’s retiring.”

“Did he say what he was going to do with the shop? He owns that building, right?”

Harry’s store sold an eclectic mix of inventory, everything from gaudy jewelry to beach cottage decor—things like wooden signs that said,Life’s a Beach, or throw cushions withLife’s Better at the Beachprinted on them.

“I think he’s just going to close down his store and rent out the space and the apartment overhead. He said he and Michael wanted to travel before they were too old.”

A strange tingle crawled up the back of my neck, and I did my best to ignore it. After all, an empty storefront in The Square meant nothing to me. In a few months, I’d be back in Wisconsin and all the people from The Square who had come to mean so much to me, just memories. My insides hollowed at the thought.

“I’m going to tell Lana I’m back,” Bailey said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the office. “Then you can take your break.”

Normally on my break, I would make myself a latte and sit in the back room reading a book. Today, though, after making myself a coffee, I left the cafe and wandered down the sidewalk. The rain fell in steady fat drops, slapping the bare skin on my face, hands and back of my neck like liquid ice.

I bent my head against the wet cold—for all the good it did. By the time I reached Harry’s shop, I was soaked through to my skin. I hauled open the glass door, and an old-time bell chimed. Inside, the warm air, smelling of incense—sweet powdery spice—wrapped around me and drew me in like invisible arms.

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