"WellmaybeI want an actual paycheck." But then, as I heard those words, I belatedly recalled that I'd had a perfectly good reason for not going the paycheck route.
It would leave all kinds of trails that I wasn't quite ready for, no matter how brave I suddenly felt.How on Earth had I forgotten?
But I knew how.
When I was with Ryder, I felt safe and untouchable, like Evan Carver had been downgraded from a threat to a punchline.
Like just now, while walking from Fort Mackinac to the coffee shop's rear door, I hadn't given a single thought to that whole cluster in Chicago. All I'd been thinking about was Ryder, who'd insisted on escorting me straight to that very same door like he was personally responsible for my safety.
During the walk, we'd abandoned the subject of my job and stuck to safer topics like movies and music, things we actually agreed on.It was nice.
But did I get kiss-number-four?
Nope.
And the only person I had to blame was myself. While walking, we hadn't even held hands, because when he'd made a move to take mine in his, I'd balked, confessing that I wasn't quite ready to star in the next wave of Main Street gossip.
At the time, I'd been thinking of Maisie and Delaney – and of family drama I was too embarrassed to share. I'd told Ryder I would explain later, when I wasn't running late for work.
He hadn't pushed it, but hehadlaughed, telling me that forts were built to contain armies, not rumors, so acting sly now was pointless.
Maybe he was right.But it didn't change the way I felt. Inside Fort Mackinac, I'd felt like just another tourist. But outside those walls? It all felt a lot more complicated.
And now, in the coffee shop's back room, Skip was saying, "I can't pay you if you don't show up."
"Yeah, well, I'm here now. And I'vebeenhere for weeks." I wasn't even sure why I was pushing this, especially with the danger of a paper trail still fresh in my mind.
But I hated the thought of backing down now, after I'd finally kicked up a fuss. And Skip? He looked just as stubborn, like he was ready to grab a marker and write up another sign, this one sayingNo Renegotiating Allowed.
We were still glaring when a sudden knock sounded at the back door.
We both turned to look.
The knock sounded again, this time accompanied by a familiar female voice calling out, "Hey! Open up!"
I smiled. It was Franny Mulberry, who, the way it sounded, couldn't wait five more minutes to get her fix.And here, I thought my sister loved coffee.
I was already moving toward the door when Skip called back, "No way! You could be a robber!"
Franny hollered, "Andyoucould be my ex-husband, back from the dead. Now open up! I've got business with Tessa."
That settled it.I strode forward and flung open the door. When I did, there stood Franny, sporting a bright floral scarf, that familiar tote bag, and an oversized pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. She rushed into the shop like rabid poodles were nipping at her heels.
She looked to me and said, "First, I need coffee. Double cream."
From the sidelines, Skip muttered, "Are you sure? You look like you've had ten already."
Franny whirled to face him. "Andyoulook like you just rolled out of bed, but you don't see me complaining, do you?" She adjusted her scarf. "And besides, I'm not here for coffee."
Skip frowned. "But you just said—"
"Iknowwhat I said. But I'm multi-tasking."
Judging from Skip's face, he had no idea what that was. "You're what?"
"Multi-tasking," she repeated. "I figure I'm here, anyway, so I might as well grab a coffee, right?"
He glanced at the clock. "But it's not even noon. You saw the sign, right?"
