Yep.
Snowing today.
Café should be slow.
Empty, even.
Good day for starting to face the inevitable, which is that I’m going to have to clear out my stuff from the only job I’ve ever had and the only place I’ve ever wanted to work.
But when Jitter and I arrive, the lights are on.
And the kitchen isn’t empty.
For the first time since the food fight, I’m face-to-face and alone with Greyson Cartwright.
My Duke in tarnished armor.
He looks just as surprised to see me as I am to see him, but I have the advantage of my nearly-empty coffee tumbler, so I fake taking a drink as I pass him at the prep table to hang my coat up. “Morning, boss-man. You’re in early. Didn’t see your car out there.”
When he doesn’t answer, I look over my shoulder at him.
He’s staring.
Not at my ass.
But at my head.
My head? My hair?
I brush a hand through it, feeling cold moisture mixed with the texture of my curls. “Do I have something—”
“Snow,” he says shortly, and then he ducks his head and goes back to the prep table.
My heart does a slow crawl through my stomach and down to my thighs.
Building plans. Design plans.
All of the changes he wants to make to Bean & Nugget.
Can’t hide anymore.
This isit.
This is what he wants to do to my home.
I swallow thickly and move to stand next to him, looking down at the large sheets. Jack would geek out over the technical aspects, but I’m looking for a broad overview.
And I get it.
There’s a front-view illustration of the building, and I can see the rock outcropping at the back corner, and the edge of what’s clearly the art gallery next door, but where our old-fashionedBean & Nuggetblock typeface sign over the picture windows should be, the signage is in a cursive font, spelling outThe Hive, with a gigantic bumblebee hung at the corner of the building.
I point to the picture windows, which aren’t windows, but aren’tnotwindows. “What’s that?”
He pauses before he answers, and I can feel the weight of his gaze shifting to me. “Plexiglass beehives.”
“Chandler hates bees.”
“Does he?”
