Page 106 of Not That Impossible

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“Morning,” Charlie said brightly.

“Hi.” I pretended to peruse the chalkboard menu so I didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I’ll have a macchiato, please,” I said. “With extra…nothing.”

“Extranothing?”

I didn’t have it in me today to add the usual ridiculous requests. “Yes. Just a macchiato.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlie made me a black Americano, set a tiny gold-wrapped chocolate on the edge of the saucer, and refused to let go of it until I looked up.

“Congratulations on another front page,” he said.

I shifted awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“Is that Jasper?” Amalie’s voice came from the back. “Jas! Stay there. I want to talk to you. I have questions!”

I tugged on my coffee cup and looked pleadingly at Charlie. He frowned, then gestured me away.

“You can hang around chatting with your friends when you’re done working,” he called to his sister, and got an earful in response.

I retreated to a table in the quietest part of the coffee shop and sat down.

I slumped, rubbing my hands over my face.

Had I written a speculative and very muchnotfact-based article about Ray, insinuating that he might perhaps be a serial killer, you just never know, and all because Liam said he was a spectacular kisser?

Yes, I had.

Was I proud of myself?

Nope, no, and hell no.

I’d regretted it the moment I sent it, I was regretting it more now, and I would regret it even more—hard to believe that was possible, but I was sure I’d manage—when Adam read it.

Or Ray.

I slid down in my seat and glumly unwrapped my chocolate treat.

Or Liam.

Okay. I shoved the chocolate in my mouth and got out my phone. Before I could call Adam, Ray walked in.

The coffee shop fell silent.

I hadn’t noticed how busy and loud it was until then. The hiss of the steamer, the whirr of the bean grinder, the clatter of crockery, the chatter of voices…it all added up to a cosy background hum. Its sudden absence made the silence all the more startling.

Ray hesitated in the doorway, his big brown eyes widening as everyone turned to look at him. He clutched the strap of his laptop bag defensively.

This was my fault. Okay, it wasn’tallmy fault. Gossip spread like chlamydia in small towns. People would have been talking about him with or without my article. It hadn’t helped, though.

Should I do something? This was so awkward, I was starting to sweat.

I should. Yes. I should do something.

I half-rose from my chair then sat down again. I had no idea what to do.

Another customer came in behind Ray and bumped him forward. Ray lifted his chin, gathered himself, and strode up to the counter.

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