Leon:This festival is going to be ruined if we don’t take action immediately. We’ve worked too hard on this event to allow this ill-timed construction project to ruin it. I won’t stand for it.
Leon:Join me in the meeting room at The Mystic Menagerie so we can plan an appropriate course of action to put an end to this disaster.
Benny lifted his head from reading the message and glanced around the room. “What’s Leon going on about? What disaster?”
“Where have you been, Benny?” Avery asked. “Under a rock? The construction right over there in the Nook.” She pointed down the street to the left. “That ugly dumpster is an eyesore. Not to mention the fact that the rumor is Jim Walton hasn’t paid his workers this week because Winston hasn’t paid Jim. It’s a hot mess.”
“It’s a mess I’m glad I’m not involved in. I’m not participating this time. You all have fun. I’m going to take Rune with me and go home.”
Avery stood. “I guess I’ll head on over there and talk to Elwood until the meeting starts. Are you two coming?”
“I have a few things I need to do here first,” I said.
Azar pushed off the stool and let out another sigh. “I’ll walk over with you, Avery.”
I’d already planned for Sable and my head cook, Alvin, to handle things while I was at the support group meeting, so I took a minute to check in with them and make sure they were ready for me to leave.
“No problem, boss. We got this.” Sable grinned. She was more than capable of running the whole pub if she needed to. I let them both take a short break since it would be hard for them when I was gone.
Then I wiped my hands on the bar towel one last time and sighed. No point putting it off any longer. If Leon was determined to hijack the support group meeting for his festival drama, I needed to at least be there to keep the peace. Besides, I didn’t think Leon was entirely wrong. Overreacting a bit? Possibly, but not wrong.
The late-afternoon sun glared in my eyes as I stepped outside. Ravenstone was still buzzing—tourists wandering with dripping cones, kids racing up the sidewalks, that damned dumpster beside Elwood’s shop catching the light like an insult. I understood there needed to be a place to put the rubbish, but it had already been sitting there for way too long.
I was distracted by my thoughts, and I didn’t see him until he was right there.
“Watch it!” I barked, too late.
He collided with me at full tilt—two overstuffed brown bakery bags in one hand, a tray of coffee cups in the other.
The cups exploded between us with a wet, scalding splat.
Hot coffee drenched my shirt.
“Shit—!” he yelped, stumbling back. The bags went flying. A croissant bounced off my boot.
He froze. Wide hazel eyes. Glasses askew. A pretty mouth hanging open in horror.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh my God, I am so sorry?—”
I peeled my shirt off my chest with two fingers, grimacing. “Hot,” I said dryly.
“Holy—okay—hold on!” He fumbled in his pocket, yanked out a crumpled napkin, lunged at me, and I stepped back.
“Don’t,” I warned.
He stopped mid-reach. “Oh my God. I scalded you. I’m so sorry. I was—I wasn’t looking. I—shit.”
He looked ready to bolt.
I sighed and scrubbed a hand down my face. “It’s fine. Accidents happen. It’ll heal in no time.”
He visibly deflated, letting out a shaky laugh. “You sure? Because you’re, uh… drenched.”
“I noticed. I’ll just run upstairs and change.” I motioned with my thumb toward the door of the pub.
“Oh, you live here. You must be Gideon Blackwood.”
“I am.”
