Page 13 of Property of Scythe
I hold out my hand. “Then we should be formally introduced if I’m going to come in here often. I’m Lottie Bishop.”
“Bishop.” She blinks. Her smile falters but is quick to return. “Lovely to meet you, Lottie.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I can’t wait to try these.”
“You need some tea to go with that order.” She hustles to the counter behind her and pours a steaming cup before snapping on the lid. “Trust me. You don’t need any sweetener or cream. That tea is a family recipe.”
“How much?”
She shakes her head. “No charge. Have a lovely afternoon.” Her gaze cuts to Scythe, and she nods.
Scythe winks. “See ya soon, Granny Jo.”
Scythe follows me out the door, and it clicks shut behind us. The sun beats down with relentless heat as I walk toward my car. Juggling the box and my tea, I manage to slip my sunglasses on. It’s far too bright today.
I don’t expect the biker to show any additional interest. When he speaks, it’s far closer than I anticipate. He’s right behind me.
“There’s a spot in the shade if you’re eager to try anything you bought,” Scythe suggests.
I pause. “There is?”
“Yeah.” He ticks his chin toward a stunning and massive weeping willow tree across the parking lot.
“Oh, wow. That’s beautiful.” I missed it when I parked.
“It provides plenty of shade. Come on.”
I join him under the tree, leaning back against the trunk that has to be at least five feet across. Under the canopy, it’s a bit cooler and there’s a light breeze. It’s tolerable compared to the blazing heat of midday.
I open my box from Granny Jo and stare at the contents. It’s tough to decide which item to choose first.
“You know, I always pick dessert first. It’s a bad habit,” he laughs. Scythe plucks a cinnamon roll from his box and takes a huge bite, groaning with pleasure.
I don’t hesitate to pick up one of the pastries. It’s filled with cream cheese and strawberries and tastes divine. I lick my fingers clean as I finish it and take a sip of tea, marveling at how perfectly it’s prepared. Granny Jo was right. It doesn’t need a thing.
“This is the best tea and pastry I’ve ever had. Mom and Mel will love it when they visit.”
“Your sister?” he guesses.
“Yes. She lives in L.A.”
I don’t know why I’m sharing personal information with a stranger. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel like one. Not since he’s been front and center in my dreams for months.
Scythe nods. “You relocated from California?”
“I did. New job opportunity.” I gesture to his leather vest as I nibble on a cookie. “Is that a hobby or a lifestyle?”
He smirks. “Both.”
“I’m not surprised.”
This is surreal. I’m having dessert with my fictional biker underneath a willow tree. The same biker I swore to my sisterwasn’t real.Oh, but he is.
“I guess the clothes give that away,” he chuckles.
“It’s the tattoos and leather,” I contradict.
“Fair enough. That’s my Harley over there.” He ticks his chin toward a motorcycle parked in front of another store in the strip mall. It’s a few shops down, which explains why I never noticed it.
