DEXTER
In hindsight, I should have immediately called Reg. He was the head of law enforcement in the Four Forest area, and this was a lawful matter. But Reg was extremely protective of his family and friends, and I didn’t want to escalate something I could hypothetically settle with a phone call to Freya.
“Are you saying he threatened you? That’s not like Viggo at all.”
I nodded irritably, though the gesture was lost on the cellular connection. “Yeah, he definitely threatened me, but he calmed down, and the threat was more subtle and yet…not subtle at all. To be honest, Freya, I’m angry that you told him about me after I specifically asked you to wait. This is a small town and—”Sniff.“Freya?”
She snuffled loudly. “I’m sorry. Viggo’s very concerned. That’s all. But I’ll t-talk to him.”
More sniffling.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry, Freya. It’s—” I shoved my fingers through my hair and stared, unseeing, at the hockey game on my flat screen. “It’s fine. I’ll work it out with him. We’re practically neighbors, and we’ll have to come to some kind of truce.”
“Yes, yes.” She sighed. “I hope so. I know he looks a littlescary, but Viggo’s the best person you’ll ever meet. He’s always been there for me, and if he offered to help you, it’s coming from a good place. He would be there for you…if you let him.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Freya, please take this in the nicest possible way,” I said firmly. “That’s not going to happen. Viggo isn’t my friend or my?—”
“I’m…sorry. I should go. I don’t feel well.”
I sat up, instantly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
“No, I think I’m going to be sick, but don’t worry. The doctor told me it’s normal to have morning sickness at night. And the last two nights have been—I have to go.”
The line went dead.
I tossed my cell onto the coffee table and gazed up at the ceiling, willing my pulse to slow down. I wished I could do something for her. Also, I was torn between being extremely peeved and knowing I was completely responsible for this situation. I’d invited this into my life—happily.
Now…
Well, shit just got complicated.
And it stayed complicated for a solid week.
Viggo came by the shop every morning at seven a.m. on the dot. He’d order a medium-sized coffee and an apple fritter. Then he’d step to the side counter to collect his goodies and wait for a word with me. Three words, actually.
“Good morning, Dexter.”
If I was busy with a customer or occupied in the back, he’d wait. Yesterday, Janey peeked her head into the kitchen where I was helping my lead baker, Alberto, organize a tray of freshly decorated donuts.
“He’s here again,” she’d whispered. “What should I say?”
Janey was a cool, perky, middle-aged chick with short brown hair and copious tats. She managed the shop for me and had hired Meg and Dallas, local twentysomethings who happened to be cousins. Meg and Dallas traded off mornings during the week,and on weekends, it was all hands on deck. Including Alberto and his wife, Sandra. In the summer, we hired high school students to keep up with the high demand for daily donuts.
I was lucky. Business had been steady since I’d opened, which I credited to a town-wide sweet tooth and my selection of tried-and-true donuts mixed in with gourmet fare, like today’s cinnamon and jalapeño glaze—which, by the way, was freaking amazing.
Of course, the influx of tourism to the Four Forest area had been great for small-business owners in the community. This was thanks in part to Elmwood’s junior hockey camp and Wood Hollow’s brand-new Mill Depot.
Nowadays, DIY enthusiasts came from far and wide to shop for hardware and lumber and stayed for the hiking, biking, boating, lake views, and to explore the shops and diners. Wood Hollow wasn’t as fancy, kitschy, or famous as Pinecrest, Fallbrook, or Elmwood, but we were slowly carving an identity as a pretty mill town with pizzazz.
I liked to think Dexter’s Donuts contributed to the pizzazz quotient with a delicious, quality product and friendly employees who went out of their way to greet customers by name, remember their orders, and generally keep them coming back for more.
Janey was the consummate public relations pro, but Viggo stumped her.
“The guy’s an enigma. I’ve seen him around, I know he works at the mill, but that’s it. I didn’t know his name until you told me,” she’d groused yesterday morning. “Vee-go. Interesting. I bet he’s got a crush on you…just like the rest of us.”
I’d rolled my eyes. “I assure you, that’s not the case.”
