“I’m not here to mess up anything.” I can imagine what Sloane’s been through and admire her for coming through it with her spirit intact.
Avah narrows her eyes and growls. A literal growl. “I will end you if you hurt her.”
I believe she means that, but it doesn’t scare me. Well, maybe a little, but I refuse to be run off. “If I had a nickel for every person who wanted to take me down at some point, I’d have a lot of nickels. Yet here I am.”
“I’m not like other people.”
Cody cackles through a mouthful of cinnamon roll. “I’m so in love.”
“Sloane is a grown woman,” I point out.
“Who also told you to leave.”
I shrug and hope it comes across as casual and not panicked. “I’m giving her time.”
“You ever heard that song ‘I Will Find You’?” Cody asks, apropos of absolutely nothing.
Avah blinks, and I kick him under the table.
“Oh, I love that song.” Winnie, who has drifted over to clear the next table, clasps her hands over her heart. “It just tugs on your heartstrings. So romantic.”
“It’s good,” Avah agrees, almost reluctantly.
Cody straightens and flashes a shit-eating grin. “That’s my song.”
Winnie makes a noncommittal—and possibly disappointed—sound in the back of her throat. “You write with a lot of yearning for someone young enough to be my grandchild. You have a lot of talent, though. I’ll give you that.”
Cody sighs. “I didn’t write it.”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
“He did,” Cody says, cheerful as that dog in front of the hardware store. “For your friend.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl.
“Language,” Winnie admonishes, then points her rag at Avah. “Which friend?”
“Sorry, ma’am.” I stand, knowing when it’s time to beat a hasty retreat.
“Sloane,” Avah says, her brows drawn together.
The name is for Winnie, but she’s studying me. I can’t decide if Cody’s big mouth is working in my favor or against me. I decide to cut my losses either way.
“Let’s go, Cody.” I glance between the women. “You can ignore him. He was dropped on his head as a kid.”
“And kicked by a horse,” Cody adds as he gets up, holding the rest of his cinnamon roll in one hand like a torch.
“Explains so much.” I yank his sleeve and push him toward the door.
“I’m trying to help you, man,” he says when we’re outside.
“I don’t need your help.”
“You need somebody’s.”
“I’mhelpingyou. That’s the arrangement.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He licks frosting off his thumb and grins up at the sky like the sun is his new best friend. “Best cinnamon roll ever, plus the most entertaining breakfast of my life. I don’t even need a beer.”
