“I can’t believe he called a staff meeting before nine,” she muttered, lifting the mug. The first sip burned a little, but she didn’t mind. “Gideon doesn’t even pretend to like mornings.”
Penny spun in a lazy circle, arms loose at her sides, her pajama cats caught mid-brawl.
“Maybe he’s had a revelation,” she said, voice bright with mischief. “Woke up with the sunrise and decided to chase enlightenment.”
Arden snorted into her coffee. “Or he’s planning a deeply serious crash course in napkin origami.”
“Oh yes, the thrilling world of upscale hospitality,” Penny said, striking adramatic pose. Her pants shifted so the cartoon cats looked like they were mid-curtain call, tumbling over each other for applause.
The purple contrasted violently with the navy sofa. Arden didn’t comment. She didn’t have to.
“But seriously,” Penny said, collapsing sideways onto the armrest with the tragic flair of a silent film star, “what’s your gut telling you?”
Arden shrugged. “Not a damn thing. But I’m sure the answer’s coming.”
Penny groaned, letting her head loll back dramatically.
“Well, if it’s terrible news, at least bring me pastries. Two minimum. No forks. You know my policies.”
Arden rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “I’ll do my best.”
With a final, lazy spin, Penny blew a kiss over her shoulder; her pajama cats erupting into fresh chaos.
Arden shook her head, grabbed her bag off the counter, and made for the door, leaving behind the low hum of coffee, vanilla, and Penny’s relentless, messy joy.
Whatever Gideon was planning, she’d find out soon enough.
?
The cold hit her face the moment she stepped out, crisp and biting. Arden pulled her coat snug and kept moving, her breath trailing in short puffs as the city blinked awake around her. A car grumbled to life somewhere nearby. A horn barked. Footsteps echoed behind her, quick and uneven, then faded.
She walked with purpose, her thoughts slipping elsewhere.
To Gideon.
Sharp. Unreadable. Tension stitched into his bones.
But something had shifted.
Subtle. Like he’d started loosening the reins enough to be seen.
And whatever was happening with Gideon? It was getting under her skin.
She hadn’t named it yet.
But it was there. Unmistakable.
Like he was showing just enough of himself to make her wonder.
She reached the door before she was ready.
Tall. Black. Familiar.
The handle caught the light, bright against the darker frame. Arden hesitated long enough to draw a breath, then pushed it open.
Inside, the staff trickled in: quiet, yawning, half-dreaming. A few leaned near the bar, hands wrapped around coffee cups, eyes squinting toward the setup beyond them. The mood? Bleary. Suspicious. Definitely not normal.
Fatima spotted her first, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Didn’t peg Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody for a sunrise kind of guy. What’s with the early roll call?”
