“What the fuck am I looking at?”
“My shop sign. Or what was supposed to be my shop sign.”
My eyes skate over the place, checking the building for damage, but the fire seems to have been isolated to the driftwood. “I take it you weren’t going for the charred look.”
Lola’s laugh is bitter. “No shit, Sherlock.” She tips her head back, brushing away another tear with the sleeve of the shirt she’s wearing over her vest top.
I look between her and the burnt wood, a seriously bad feeling settling in my gut. “What happened?”
Lola chews her bottom lip. Something I can’t decipher flickers in her gaze but then she shrugs. “Some teenagers were messing about last night. I heard the ruckus, saw flames, and called the police.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“Yeah.” Lola rakes her hair back into a vicious ponytail and slumps against the wall, her arms crossed. “I spent the whole morning filing a report with Officer O’Connor who got a big old kick out of pointing out the irony of me being the victim rather than the one in cuffs which, in case you hadn’t guessed, really wasn’t on my bingo card for today.”
“They get the kids?”
Lola huffs out a breath. “Not yet. I gave a description of the truck they drove off in but it was dark and I didn’t catch the plate. O’Connor didn’t like the odds.
“He also helpfully pointed out that I can’t exactly blame them for trespassing when I’m the idiot who didn’t fix the lock on the gate when I moved in.” Lola stares sullenly at the chain link gate that opens out onto a parking lot for the high street shop owners. A lock hangs off the hook, but it’s clearly broken.
My blood thrums with anger. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Lola scoffs and kicks off the wall. “Maybe not, but I could have stopped it. I should have got a new lock. I should have brought the signinsideso it was covered by my insurance.”
She paces across the small square of space, tension bunching up her shoulders and rolling off her in crashing waves. “I should have come downstairsbeforethose ass-wipes set fire to my sign, but I didn’t and even if I could afford to buy a new piece of driftwood, it wouldn’t get here for six weeks which means I have no shop sign. Which means I’m screwed.” She spins around. “Oh, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I still have no idea what to do about my brother drunkenly accosting me yesterday because apparently, he’s spending his days drinking one town over but somehow, I’m the failure.
“And now you’re no doubt here to let me down gently because you’re sweet and kind like that, but my plan sucks and you’d be a fool to go into business with me.” She breathes in, her chest rising as she hyperventilates.
I take a step towards her, but she doesn’t even notice, too lost in her spiral. I take another step, backing her inside the shop and up against the counter. I keep closing in on her, holding the folder in front of me until it’s the only thing between us.
Finally, Lola looks up at me, her wide eyes shiny with unshed tears. Even with blotchy cheeks and fly away hair she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I rest the edge of the folder against her stomach because I know I shouldn’t be touching her right now, but I need to be connected to her. Somehow.
I speak clearly to make sure she hears and actuallylistensto what I’m saying. “Your business plan is the best one I’ve ever read. I came here to tell you I’m in, and to find out how exactly you learned all this. Because if I’m right, you completed an entire degree without telling anyone.”
She blinks and her teeth bite down on the soft flesh of her bottom lip. It’s her trademark ‘I’ve been caught’ look and I tsk under my breath.
“We’ll get to that in a minute and just so we’re clear I have no doubt you will figure out the sign but right now, I need you to tell me what the hell your brother did yesterday.”
Lola shakes her head, her brow creasing. “He’s not okay. Something’s wrong and I don’t know what because I’m obviously the last person he would ever confide in?—”
I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger to stop the bullshit words running from her mouth. I’m tempted to take her over my knee for talking crap about herself but first I need to know what the hell happened. “What did he do, Lola?”
She gapes up at me, like maybe her brain is misfiring because I’ve got my hands on her. Mine sure as hell is.
Best friend’s little sister. Seven years younger.
I let go but I don’t step away, standing firm so she understands I’m not backing down.
Lola deflates and leans against the counter. “He just told me to call Mom.”
I raise a single brow because there’s no way that was it. “And?”
Her gaze drops to the floor and her voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “And he said the coffee shop was never going to work and I needed to stop ghosting my own family.”
Jesus Christ, Mase.I tense up because that’s bad enough as it is, but I know there’s more to come. I put the folder down on the counter then brace against the scratched surface. “And?” I say, my jaw tight.
