I force an eye roll.
He hums—a sound that means he’s either pleased with himself or up to something, maybe both. Then, he takes the basket from my hand.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re cooking for me, making me feel all cared for. Least I can do is carry your basket, wifey.”
He’s been saying stuff like that all afternoon, being more affectionate than usual, which, for Chaz, is saying something. He showed me the management side of his business during closing and asked me to take photos for the café’s social media accounts. It felt deliberate, like he was pulling me deeper into his world. It all fuels the tug-of-war inside me.
I find myself once again thinking about my big reveal.
You know how I said my name is Lexie Monroe, and I came here to figure out my future?Well, that part is true. But what I didn’t mention is that I’m also Alexandra Townsen of Townsen Industries. The heir to one of those big companies you hate, the same one that tried to bulldoze your town.
I can picture the shock on his face as questions wind like gears in his head. Then, the realization as the warmth in his eyes snuffs out, replaced by disappointment and disapproval.Maybe worse.
That very real possibility spins in my head. The fruit and vegetable bins blur together. I squeeze the stress ball in my pocket, but it’s not enough. Minefields detonate in my mind, and I scramble to dodge them. To ground myself, I reach formy trivia. “Did you know a pomegranate can have up to 1,400 seeds?”
“No shit?” Chaz looks me over, aware of what’s happening but unaware of why. “How about a watermelon?”
“Much less. Between 200 and 800, depending on the size.”
“Love that brain of yours.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “What’s going on in there, Blue?”
“I’m okay. Just had a moment,” I say, his calm helping to steady me. Maybe it will be all right. He cares deeply for me; I know that. He won’t just turn off his feelings and shut me out. He’s not that kind of man.
I cling to hope, smiling up at him just as a woman’s voice cuts through the air, screeching his name.
“C!” She barrels forward, her mahogany-brown dreadlocks flying behind her, gold beads catching the fluorescent lights. She’s about five-five, all plump curves, heading straight for him.
Chaz laughs as she leaps into his arms. He manages to set the basket on an orange bin in time to catch her. She plants a loud kiss on his cheek before her booted feet hit the floor.
She’s stunning and edgy. Beneath her open jacket, she’s wearing a fitted graphic tee, and her low-slung cargo pants are tucked into combat boots. Just being in her presence, you know she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“I heard you might be coming home,” Chaz says, grinning from ear to ear. “Didn’t know you were already back.”
“Gossip mill must be running slow,” she responds dryly. “Got in a couple of hours ago. I was gonna stop by tomorrow to see you.”
“Good to have you back, Lot. Sorry about the circumstances, though. How’s your dad?”
“They’re running tests. We’ll know more soon.” She shrugs, her tone detached. “I’m here for Mom. I’ll tolerate the rest.”
Chaz nods like he understands more than what’s being said. “Lot, this is Lexie Monroe. Lex, Charlotte Webber.”
“If you call me Charlotte or Lottie, we won’t be friends,” she warns, her big, hazel eyes shifting to me. They’re framed by impossibly long lashes, and her brown skin is flawless. A tiny hoop decorates her nose, and multiple earrings climb up both ears.
“I’ll remember that,” I say, a little awestruck. “Nice to meet you, Lot.”
“You might want to hold off on that. I’m not particularly nice.”
“That’s okay. I want to learn how not to be so nice myself.”
The corner of her lips ticks up. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” And for some reason, I share something I read recently that resonated with me. “Nice is usually about accommodating others, even when you don’t want to. I confused it with kindness, but they’re not the same. Kindness comes from the heart, while niceness feels obligatory.”
“That’s fucking deep.” She extends a fist, and I tap it with mine. She sizes me up from head to toe. “You’re like this beautiful, weird Amazon woman.”
“Thank you. I think.”
