My vision blurs a little, and the angry heat spreads through my chest as I turn around. This group making Willow uncomfortable has my hackles up.
“If you all don’t leave her alone and stop asking questions, you can leave. Order your shit.” My voice is low and shouldn’t be heard over the ruckus of the customers, but somehow, they all hear it.
“Sorry, Oakley,” a few people mutter, casting their heads down in shame. They know better, but their curiosity obviously got the better of them.
“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Willow.”
A chorus of “I’m sorry” greets both of us as Willow looks over at me, a small smile on her face.
“Thanks. Now, what can I get for you?” Willow asks without a hiccup.
It takes us over an hour to get through the influx of people, most ordering the most basic of coffee orders, so I know they only came in for the gossip. Once we finally have a lull, I step out from behind the counter.
“Alright, show’s over, folks. We’ll open up full-time again next Monday,” I announce, not even feeling the slightest bit bad about it.
“Oakley,” I hear Willow whisper behind me, but I wait until everyone is out the door before locking it and turning back to her.
“Yes, Willow?”
“Why did you close? What if someone else needs coffee?” Her eyes are bloodshot, and her hair is falling out of the bun on top of her head.
“First, no one in this townneedscoffee; they just wanted any information they could get. Second, you are exhausted—hell, I’m exhausted—and this was a bad idea. We should have just gone for a walk and then gone back home.” Besides, the adrenaline of everyone bombarding her with questions was too much for me, even if it wasn’t for her.
Using this as a distraction for how I’m feeling about Lennox coming home was the wrong move, but nothing to do with it now. Lesson learned; now, we move on.
My old therapist would love that I just said that.
The thought triggers an idea. But first, I need to get Willow home so I can talk this out with her.
“It seemed like a good idea.” She sighs. “They really just came in here swinging, huh? This is why I kill them off in my books.” She whips out her phone, and I peek over, seeing her writing a note of grievances about everyone who came in here.
I choke out a laugh. “Remind me to stay on your good side. And now I’m going to have to reread your books and guess who everyone is.”
“It’s a fun game. I’ll help you,” she says without missing a beat with her notes.
A knock sounds on the front door, and I see Sheriff—Arlo—standing there. I walk over, unlock the door, and usher him in.
“Willow. Oakley.” He nods as a greeting.
“Hey, Arlo, need some coffee?” Willow asks.
“I’m good. Thank you, though. I actually came to talk to Oakley.” His tone tells me this isn’t a social visit, so I motion him over to a table.
I don’t ask him what he needs; I wait him out. I know he won’t beat around the bush, so there is no need for small talk. He looks over at Will for a moment, arching his eyebrow at me when he turns back.
“She’s good,” I tell him. Whatever he wants to talk about, she’ll find out from me as soon as we leave here anyway. This just takes out the middleman.
“I wanted to formally offer you a job in the sheriff’s office. It would be basically a deputy position, but we’d be more equals.”
I stare at him in a little bit of shock. Sure, he’s offered up casually before but never an official offer.
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely. It’s not that we need to fill the position, but I could use a second-in-command. We could take on more of the National Park stuff if needed, things like that.”
I look around Grind Time, and it’s like time stands still. I see Willow leaning against the corner, her brow furrowed in thought. I see visions of Mabel and Alice shit-talking in the corner. I see Arlo coming in most mornings for an americano, even though I know he has a machine across the street at his office.
“I think,” I say slowly. “I think I need to decline.” I say the words, and in any other situation, I would be panicking that I just made a rash decision.
