Ella
The next day
The register drawer is open, and I’m counting change, trying to decide if nickels really serve any purpose in life. Two of them slip through my fingers, clinking to the floor.
Ashton walks out front with a box under her arm, glitter wrapping, crooked bow, absolute chaos. Rather than handing it to me, she drops it under the counter by the register, then gets to work.
“Happy birthday, donut boss,” she sings as she loads the pastry display. “Your present is questionable at best, but it’s wrapped with love.”
My chest warms, just a little. “Thanks.”
She winks. “Don’t get sappy. I’m only nice one day a year.”
We’ve been working in silence for the last fifteen minutes. I went to bed to a goodnight text from Nathan, which is better than nothing.
The bell over the door chimes. Ashton’s probably grabbing the outdoor sandwich sign.
I wait for the door to close, picking up another nickel. “Son of a bitch, these stupid nickels have nothing better to do than just drop onto the floor.
“Hey,” comes a deep, smooth voice. It’s carrying way too much self-assurance to be a normal human.
Bishop. I don’t even need to look. Habit, really, you work in a bakery long enough, you start clocking voices before faces.
I freeze.
From my angle, I can see just enough between the shelves to catch him leaning on the counter like it’s the VIP lounge.
“So,” he says casually, “Is, uhhh, Ashton here?”
I narrow my eyes at him and point across the room. “Yup, right over there.”
His gaze goes to Ashton, who’s ignoring him, attacking the tables like it’s her life mission.
“Hey,” he calls as he walks across the room, “Ashton, you like boats?”
Ashton’s hand stops moving; she has to know I’m eavesdropping unless she’s that oblivious, which I know she isn’t. If anything, she has eyes and ears everywhere. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… do you like boats?” he asks again, this time a bit less confident.
She blinks over at him, a little sarcastic, a little confused. “Do I like boats?”
“Yeah.” A grin spreads across his face. “Like yachts. If you’re free, I’d love to take you out on mine sometime.”
Is that a line, or is he genuinely asking? I chew my bottom lip and ponder while she stares him down with what has to be the longest pause known to mankind. Is she going to faint? Start laughing? Reject him? Exhale?
Ashton’s lips finally curve into a small, cunning smile. “I’m good, thanks. Nice to see you finally made it in, though.”
She turns back to the pastries like she’d just declined a sample at Costco.
Bishop doesn’t move at first, clearly processing the life-altering event of being toldNO.
“Little help?” he hisses.
“I’m just as confused as you are,” I murmur from behind the counter. “I’ll do recon.”
“I owe you.” He strides toward the door.
Before I lose the nerve, I call out. “Nathan. I want info on Nathan.”
