Helooked up from the cash register where he sat on a tall stool reading a fitnessmagazine. “Scott is late, andMaizycouldn’t wait forhim to get here, so I’m filling in.”
“That’sgood for you,” I told him. “You can see how the rest of us peons live.”
Hefrowned at me. “I have three employees. I’m not exactly living large.”
Ileveled him with a look, “One man’s barely-surviving small business is anotherman’s kingdom, Vann.”
“Saysthe small business owner to the other small business owner.”
Iwrinkled my nose at him. “Yeah, but I don’t even have one employee. I just havepeople that I manipulate into helping me for free food.”
“Ithink you need more people.” He made that sound in the back of his throat thatI found irritating. “Molly and I aren’t going to always be available.”
Islumped against the doorframe. He was right. “I need more friends.”
Hebarked out a laugh. “You need a boyfriend. Slave labor is part of the deal.”
Hewas joking. I knew he was joking. Still, a sick feeling rolled through mystomach, and my heart immediately started punching my chest. “I’d rather figureit out myself. Thanks for the advice, though.”
Hisface fell at my terse tone, and I saw his regret immediately. “I didn’t meananything by that—”
“Don’tworry about it,” I cut him off. “I know.”
Hemade a thoughtful face and shook his head. “Vere, not every guy is a bad seed.You can’t write us all off.”
Icleared my throat and tried to make a joke. “Well, I’m writing you offobviously. You’re my brother. Gross.”
“That’snot what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I’mgoing to get to work. I’ll see you later.”
“Vera.”
“Oh,Dad wants to take us for tacos later. You in?”
Hisforehead wrinkled, but he let it go. “When?”
“Um,later? I have some work to do. And he says he’s not in a hurry. Just wheneveryou’re ready.”
“I’mdone about six. I can pick you and Dad up?”
Ilet out a slow breath, thankful we had moved on from relationship talk. “Thatworks.”
“K,see you then.”
“Bye,Vann. Keep up the good work.”
“Goaway.”
Despiteour tense moment, I smiled as I walked to the truck. Vann didn’t abandon dadlike I did when I moved away, but he still wouldn’t have made time for tacosbefore the diagnosis. Until six months ago, my dad had health complicationswith his bladder that were worrisome. But that was it. We worried. We hoped forthe best. And then we huddled together when the prognosis became cancer insteadof polyps and preventative care. Now that Dad was fighting stage four bladdercancer, we both felt the pressure of how little time we had left with him.
Imissed the cool air from Vann’s shop as soon as I stepped back outside. God,this heat.I can’t wait for fall.
Itwas even worse inside Foodie. I quickly turned on the fans and opened thewindows. The tiny air conditioning unit kicked on, grumbling under the strain oftrying to work in these conditions and letting go of a smelly blast of coolair. I once again praised Vann for the convenience of my parking spot. I didn’thave to drive the truck around town or store it at a commissary and deal withpaying rent. Vann’s shop couldn’t have been more perfect for my needs.
Givingup on cooling down, I tossed my hair into a low ponytail with a hair tie fromaround my wrist. Then pulled out a pen from my purse and got to work. I washalfway to a brilliant idea when a sound at the front door had me spinningaround and letting out a startled squeak.
KillianQuinn glared at me from just outside. “You quit?”
