Page 5 of Forever a Thief

“My brother’s in San Diego,” Addie murmurs. “Here, talk to him.”

Delight of all delights, it’s Cole again. “Do I have to?” he asks flatly, and I wish I could punch his stupid face. That’s saying a lot since I’m not a man normally prone to physical violence. “Hang on, Laurent, Addie is calling her brother.”

“No rush,” I respond, looking down at the red blossoming across my linen shirt. It feels like my side is on fucking fire. “I’m just probably dying.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Cole sighs. “So, are you going to tell us what happened or what?”

No, connard, I’m not.

I can hear Addie talking to someone in the background, but I’d rather say nothing than make small talk with her jealous fiancé.

“Laurent?” It’s Addie again.

“I’m here.”

“There’s a little restaurant just off Main Street called Charlie’s Place.”

I struggle to make the connection. How the hell is that going to help me? “Not much in the mood for a dinner date,” I mutter, hoping to piss off Vaughn.

“My brother’s sister-in-law will be closing up,” Addie continues. “Laurent, go to Charlie’s Place and ask for Savannah, okay?”

“I’m not sure I can make it,” I tell her, but all I hear is silence…followed by more silence. With a frown, I look down at my phone and see the battery is dead.

Putain de merde. I lost the damn book, ruined my Italian loafers and got stabbed. Not to mention, I’m muddy, soaked and smell like wet grass. Oh, and I need to find out where the hell this Charlie’s Place is and hope some sister-in-law is there before I bleed out.

Could this night get any worse?

Chapter Two: Savannah

With misty eyes, I look over the restaurant I created in memory of my parents. It took every ounce of blood, sweat and tears I had—and every dollar—but I freaking did it.

The decor I chose is natural and plush. I wanted guests to feel like they were stepping into a friend’s house, not just a random bar or some franchised eating establishment. Dark, rich wood paneling and exposed brick give it a cozy feel with a modern twist. The soft amber lighting and cushioned booths make it homey. There are always fresh flowers at the hostess station and pictures of my parents, me and my younger sister, Harper, hang in the entryway. My staff is genuinely warm and welcoming, always smiling. They even come to hang out here when they’re not working. That has to mean I’m doing something right. And the dishes we serve are hearty, soul-warming and made from scratch. Several are family recipes, my favorite meals Mom used to cook.

Over the past year and a half, Charlie’s Place has become everything I’ve always dreamed of—a successful eatery on Coronado’s Main Street, serving up comfort food with a welcoming atmosphere. It’s been a battle to get here, but I can finally breathe a little easier now that the business is making money. Wrapping my arms around myself, a bittersweet smile tugs at my lips. Dad would be so proud of his Savannah Banana.

Unfortunately, neither he nor my mom are here to see it. They’ve both been gone over two years now, and I miss them every single day. Charlie and Libby Grant were high school sweethearts who seemed to fall in love a little more with the passing of time. When Mom died, Dad followed a few months later, and I know it’s because he couldn’t live without her. Theirs was a rare and beautiful love story. The kind I’ve sadly come to realize most people never find.

Pulling in a shaky breath, I give the main dining room another appreciative glance then head to the back office so I can finish some paperwork. It’s almost eleven, and while my brain may still be thriving on the endorphins and adrenaline a good night brings, my body is exhausted.

Weekends are always busy, but tonight seemed extra chaotic. I suppose because it’s tourist season, and they flock in by the droves. Then combine that crowd with the usual military guys who wander in from the nearby Naval base, and I’m doing five jobs at once. But they keep me in business, and I love it.

My little office is cramped, and while it might appear unorganized to anyone else looking in, I know where everything is, and that’s all that matters. Sitting down, I move some new bills aside and open my laptop. It’s decorated with a few stickers from my favorite story, Alice in Wonderland. I’ve always loved the book and the films—from the Disney cartoon to the Tim Burton version—and the original book holds a special place in my heart. It was the first classic I ever read, probably because my mom was an avid reader, and she loved it. Dad was more into classic movies than books, and the reason Harper tried her luck at being an actress. Those two used to sit around and watch Turner Classic movies all the time together. But Dad also spent many evenings reading to me before I could even read on my own. And my story of choice was always Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

I miss my parents every day. Sometimes it feels like we were all just together, laughing and hanging out. Other days, it feels like I haven’t seen them in forever. It was hard after they died, and the main reason Harper and I decided to leave our small Ohio hometown and move to California. The memories were just too much. Too painful. And as much as people meant well, it got too hard seeing the sympathetic looks and having neighbors constantly checking in and asking how we were doing. So we sold our childhood home and split the profits. Then we packed up the car and decided to chase our dreams, just like Dad always encouraged us to do. Harper moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting and I came here to open my restaurant.

I might’ve had a rough start getting this place up and running, sunk every dollar I had into it, but now things couldn’t be better. I’m out of the danger zone and the numbers are good. In fact, business is running so smoothly, I’m not spending all my time being stressed out and trying to make sure it’s a success. Because it is. That means I have a little extra time on my hands to think about other things, and that isn’t necessarily good.

Focus on the positive, I remind myself. Being able to work a little less means I can spend more time with my new niece. My sister Harper and her husband Ryland welcomed a baby girl not too long ago, and Sienna Angel is exactly that—a perfect, little angel. With big blue eyes, blonde waves and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, it’s clear she’s channeling the Grant genetics.

I’m so happy Harper found love. Ryland—a former Navy SEAL—is a good guy, and dotes on my sister like she deserves. Harper went through a bad breakup when she was living up in Los Angeles. Couple that with her dreams of acting not working out, and she came down here, tail between her legs and no money in her bank account. Of course, I welcomed her with open arms, beyond happy she’d escaped that douchebag she’d been living with.

Harper started helping me get the restaurant ready to open, and I was looking forward to bonding with her over our heartbreaks. But she gets over men way quicker than I do. What’s his face from LA was already a distant memory, and she couldn’t stop talking about her new hot neighbor—Ryland Mills. I warned her to take things slowly, but, in true Harper dramatic style, she got pulled into some highspeed, crazy adventure. Things were tense and scary for a while, but they defeated the enemy, so I can breathe easier now.

I shake my head, typing some numbers into a spreadsheet as the stories she’s told me flash through my mind. My life is nothing like that. If adventure has a name, it’s definitely not Savannah Grant.

No, my existence revolves around running Charlie’s Place, hiding away at home with a good book and avoiding men at all costs. I learned my lesson the hard way: men cheat. Well, most men. I’ll give my book boyfriends a pass, as well as my dad and Ryland, but they’re the exception to the rule.

My mind inevitably wanders back to my pre-Coronado days. Living in Columbus, Ohio, I was working as a bartender at a fancy restaurant, trying to learn everything I could about the business of what it takes to run a successful place, when I made the worst mistake of my life. I believed all the bullshit Chadwick Wellington, the owner, told me. How I was so pretty and so smart and blah, blah, blah. He’d flirted shamelessly, then seduced me. And I stupidly fell for the jerk. Tumbled head over heels for his charm and good looks.