Page 19 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One
Knowing Rhett’s handling that, I turn to face Wren. Oliver is already behind the counter, grabbing paper towels from the hand-washing sink. “Are you hurt? Did he burn you?”
Fuck. This is all my fault.
I don’t think Oliver’s words register in Wren’s mind. She’s staring after Rhett, a mixture of shock and awe shining in her eyes.
“Hey. Wren.” Oliver brushes his fingers across her cheek, the light touch making her blink rapidly.
When she finally meets his gaze, her eyes widen with realization. “I’m—I’m okay. It was just drip coffee with flavored syrup. He asked for a lot of cream, so it cooled it down a lot.”
“That’s something, at least,” he mutters.
Wren’s gaze falls to Oliver’s hands as he continues cleaning her up. She tracks his every movement as he moves to her apron, trying to soak up the liquid.
“You don’t… I can do this,” she mumbles.
“Let me help you. You’re shaking.”
“Of course she’s shaking,” Ava says, closing the drive-thru window as her last car pulls away. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” But Wren still sounds shaken. “It only hurt for a couple seconds.”
“You should still put ice on it,” Oliver says. “Just in case.”
“I—I’ll be fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes meet Oliver’s, a wobbly smile playing across her face. “Thank you. But you shouldn’t be back here. The floor is slippery.”
He looks like he wants to protest, but he must think better of it because he nods and steps back into the dining room.
I lean against the counter, gripping the edges. “I’m so sorry. I escalated things and pissed him off, and I wasn’t fast enough, and—”
“No.” Wren places her hand on my arm, her touch making me lose my breath. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a customer get pissed off like that. He’s the type. It wasn’t you. I… I appreciate you helping.”
Rhett steps back into the shop, and when I scan the sidewalk outside, the guy is gone. Rhett’s face is hardened, but when his gaze lands on Wren, his expression softens. He doesn’t utter a word, but the question is apparent in his eyes.
“I’m okay,” Wren says, but her smile is forced. “I promise. I’m sorry you guys got caught up in this.”
“Happy to help,” I tell her.
“I’m…” She rubs at the back of her neck, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I gotta get the mop. But, um, thanks again.”
We take the cue and back off, heading to our table and sitting down again. When I glance at Rhett, I narrow my eyes. I know that look. He’s got a plan brewing in that head of his.
“What?” Oliver asks him.
Rhett’s eyes darken as he stares out the window. “We’re burning his house down.”
Chapter eight
Oliver
“Got it,” Elliot says from his desk. He’s been staring at his computer for the better part of an hour.
“That was faster than I thought it’d be,” Rhett says.
“Small business,” Elliot mumbles. “Minimal security.”
I slide from my perch on the arm of the leather couch and stride over to Elliot. He’s already looking up the address of the guy who harassed Wren earlier today. Thankfully, he used his credit card to pay for his coffee, so we were able to get his name and some information that way.
And once you’ve got a name? Well, finding a person’s address is so simple a toddler could do it.
