I’m not putting my hard-wonSuper Vengeance Mansuit in Sabrina’s hands.
Not when she ghosted me. Not when she shares genes with Chandler Sullivan. And not when I’m rapidly picking up on the clues that she’ll do anything she can to save this café.
“Maybe it’s always been a dream of mine to run a kombucha bar in the mountains,” I say.
“Big change from running your own research lab.”
The heat gets hotter. “Doing a little googling?”
“No, I’m awful at it. I have friends that work computers much better than I do and who have made it their current life mission to help me.” She hands me another bowl, this one soaking wet.
I grab the towel she was using. “Find anything else interesting?”
“I’m sorry about your dog.”
My shoulders hit the ceiling tiles. “Off-limits.”
“Everyonein town is looking you up. You get one chance to tell your story before they fill in the details.”
“And how many details are you filling in for them?”
She pulls her soapy hands out of the water and looks me dead in the eye. “Only what they need to know.”
“Whatyouneed them to know.”
“Same thing.”
“Like that I know about Mr. Shredded Wheat and his two girlfriends?”
She doesn’t blink at that either.
Because she’s that good?
Or because she lied about the gossip in Hawaii?
“I’m not threatening you,” she says quietly. “I’m explaining to you how this town works. I can help you or I can stand in your way. Happy to do either. But I need to know what youwantif you want my help.”
For a split second, I’m back in Hawaii. Carefree. Light. Hustling to keep up with the whirlwind that was my temporary Duchess as she tried to make the world a better place.
I want that.
Icravethat.
But it’s not why I’m here.
“You left,” I grit out.
She looks up at me for a moment longer, then nods slowly. “Got it. Good luck to you then.”
That sounds ominous.
Worse, though?
It does nothing to cure the overwhelming curiosity about how different the next few weeks would be if I just kissed her.
Right here.
Right now.
