Number's Up

by Annabelle Hunter

  I heard a snort from behind me where Lark was standing, and Nic was smirking proudly at me.

  “Dorothy said he would be the perfect fit for her resort,” I threw him under the bus.

  “Oh, it’s not just the resort,” Carrie added cheerfully. “She needs a head of security for all the properties in California. The job would just be based here.”

  “Et tu, Brutus?” Nic muttered at her.

  “Et tu, Brute.” I corrected, because, well, I couldn’t help myself. And his glare was so sexy. I was getting a lot of that kind of sexy right then. I snickered. People really needed to get that quote right.

  “A position here? At our hotel? So, Jen wouldn’t be dating men from out of town anymore?” Helen asked, her face breaking out into a smile.

  Wait… me? When did I get involved in this? Where did this run away from me?

  “Nope,” Carrie answered, still grinning from ear to ear.

  “He would get to stay and no more online dating,” Helen followed the thought out.

  I had so many questions... Which to ask?

  “How did you know I was dating online?” I demanded from Helen, while glaring at Lark, who was suspiciously looking at a tea display. She only drank coffee. I wasn’t buying that she suddenly was interested in tea.

  “Lindsey posted an article about it,” she answered grinning as she held up her phone, showing me the blog.

  I needed better ire.

  “I hate Lindsey,” I muttered under my breath. Mostly because I vaguely remembered talking about my plans at The Pub when she was in hearing distance.

  “So, tell me more about yourself, Nic. Nicholas Kelly, right? Good Irish name. Are you Irish?” Helen asked pulling him deeper into the Tea House.

  Carrie stood watching me with a huge smile on her face.

  “You set him up,” I accused her. And after we got all honest with each other this morning.

  “He likes you.”

  “You want him to quit?” I was confused. I thought she liked lateral transfers.

  “He needs a change.” She was quite proud of herself, standing there gloating at me.

  “I thought you were a fan of just finding a new challenge.”

  “I am. Here is his new challenge. And yours.” She walked over to me and smiled even brighter. “Are you up to it?” She threw the words at me before she turned and walked away.

  My chin dropped.

  “So... you still going on your date with Donald?” Lark asked, coming up beside me.

  “But... Dorothy… what just happened?” I couldn’t anymore. I had lost control somewhere, and I didn’t know where to go back and find it.

  “You’ve been Barrow Bay’d.” Lark nodded, as she confided her nonsense.

  “Did you turn the name of the town into a verb?” She was so not helpful.

  “Yep. And I have no shame about it. Sorry, not sorry.” She followed the group in, leaving me standing in the entryway, staring after them.

  Huh. This was what being bamboozled felt like. I was so confused.

  Chapter 11

  It took about a minute for me to become uncomfortable standing in the entryway by myself. People were moving around me, some going in for High Tea, some heading toward the tea shop that was attached to my left. It took me another minute to gain enough confidence to follow the people who were clearly out to control my life. Slowly. Very slowly. Just in case I found the answer to avoiding their manipulations between here and the table.

  Carrie was the first one to see me following and, knowing what I now knew, I thought her friendliness took on a decidedly smug turn.

  “Jen. Come here. We saved you a seat.” Between her and Nic.

  I glared at Lark, who mouthed ‘sorry’ from her seat across the table. Traitor.

  Yeah, I was soooo not telling her about Julia.

  I sat.

  “Why are you here?” I asked Carrie. “What—”

  “Do you know what kind of tea you want with your service?” Helen asked, eyeing Nic with a smile.

  “Vanilla Ceylon,” Nic muttered.

  I shot him a sharp look. That was my tea. The one that Lark brought me this morning. How did he…?

  He saw my look and sighed. “My brother’s wife. She was pregnant and screamed for eight months about not drinking her teas. She had read somewhere that it could be bad for the baby, and so she went cold turkey. It was hard on everyone around. We all got to know our teas after that.”

  “He’s been ordering from us for a year. Ships them directly to his brother’s house,” Helen told me, beaming with pride at him. I was pretty sure she would have adopted him if she could.

  “You knew about the Tea House?” Lark asked, her eyes huge.

  “You buy teas. And send them to your sister-in-law,” I clarified. How was that not something we knew?

  He shrugged and looked away.

  “One of our best customers. He found us on our web page maybe a year ago,” Helen beamed at him. “He stopped in the other day to say hello and to buy some more to bring home in his suitcase.”

  It was official. Barrow Bay loved him.

  “I didn’t know you guys shipped.” Lark gaped at her aunt.

  Nic flashed Aunt Helen a smooth smile. “All the way to New York where my brother and his wife live.”

  “But what about the High Tea when you came here?” This couldn’t be happening. He was FBI Nic. Asshat Nic. Satan. Not some tea-buying, murder-solving man who pushed me into a wall and tried to protect me with his own body. Was I wrong about him? No, I knew I was wrong about him, or at least my first impressions. But how wrong?

  “She didn’t know that he was Nic. Tea Nic,” Helen shot him a fond smile and gave him a half hug.

  He shrugged. “I got a free cup of chamomile tea out of it.”

  Oh, god. He actually really liked tea. He hadn’t been trying to make fun of my tea the first time we met. He’d been really curious. And I was way too defensive. I had been very, very wrong.

  “They are going to have you married before you leave,” I warned him under my breath.

  “They are trying to match you up with me. That threat rebounded on you,” he replied just as quietly.

  Damn. He was right.

  How could I stop this? Or at least slow it to a reasonable, healthy speed? Or I could go for broke. Charlotte might have been right about the transparency and all that jazz.

  “We’re not getting married,” I told Helen.

  “Of course not, dear. It’s too soon for that. He hasn’t taken the job yet.” She patted me on the head before moving toward the kitchen to get our tea.

  Also, I was pretty sure no one else ordered. Or did I miss that?

  “She didn’t take my order,” Lark commented.

  “You were going to ask for coffee,” I pointed out. “She knew it. You knew it.”

  “Did not,” Lark argued.

  “I knew it,” Nic volunteered before shaking his head. “It’s too late. I’m on the inside of the inside jokes.” He leaned back rubbing his face.

  “She knew better than to ask you, Lark,” I added, ignoring his muttering.

  “She didn’t ask Carrie, either,” Lark pointed out.

  “I already made my choice before you three got here,” Carrie told her. “Since I was, you know, on time.”

  Oops. My bad.

  “They were in the car, flirting,” Lark told her.

  “Were not,” we both said simultaneously.

  Carrie sighed and looked at Lark. “They’re so cute.”

  “I would agree, but I’m slightly scared that she might kill me. She already has a plan,” Lark admitted.

  “I would never,” I exclaimed. Maybe a little too loudly. Everyone in the Tea House was looking at me.

  Never mind. I might kill her, after all.

  I sank lower in my chair. “Can we get to the point?”

  “Fine. Tony Harris wouldn’t talk, but Dan Ellson was willing to work out a deal with the prosecution to
plead guilty in return for turning in his sources. He is heading back to the city now to make his statement. Henry already admitted to his part before his death, so we are going to consider that to be closed. Thank you for your help in this matter,” Carrie spoke quickly, covering everything in a smile.

  “But— why—?” I think I missed something?

  “Nic will stay a few more days to close out the murder investigation—”

  “And get sold to the highest bidder,” Lark interrupted, with a smirk at Nic and me.

  “I’m not for sale,” Nic snapped, flashing her a scowl.

  “Oh, of course not, sweetie,” Helen soothed, as she dropped pots of tea at our table. “We don’t sell people for money around here.”

  “Nope, just for a good job and two cows,” Lark muttered.

  “Give it up with the cows, Lark. No one is paying two cows for your broke ass,” Helen yelled over her shoulder, as she buzzed around the room, waiting on tables and bringing items. Lark made a face at her before looking at her tea with disgust.

  “Lark, you know that coffee is just hot water run over beans. Almost the same thing as tea,” I was trying to keep my laugher down at the look on her face.

  “Sacrilegious. You only get away with this because the coffee can’t hear you,” she hissed. I wasn’t kidding. I was worried she would turn and start whispering about her precious.

  “We need to get you away from the coffee more,” I told her, seriously concerned at her coffee addiction level. Were there coffee rehabilitation centers? I would have to look.

  “Not happening unless you want to die,” Lark muttered back.

  “Just ignore her,” I told Carrie, who was watching both of us with a huge smile on her face. Glad she was having so much fun. “She hasn’t learned not to threaten people in front of law enforcement. Brecken’s trying to break her of that habit, but she just doesn’t seem to get it.”

  Carrie turned to Nic, who looked somewhere between shocked and amused. “If you don’t move here and take the job, I am. These people are fantastic.” She took a sip of her tea. “And make a really good tea.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I have been Francine’s favorite ever since I found this place.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping as the air left his chest. “I’m moving here, aren’t I?” He sipped his drink, but his eyes looked resigned. He was defeated. By tea?

  Wait... what? How did that even make sense? Who makes those kinds of decisions over tea?

  “Good, we already started processing your paperwork. You’re free after this case ends,” Carrie told him, cheerfully.

  He was just… and he did it over tea?

  “No.” Everyone turned to me before I realized that I was the one who’d spoken. “Um... no. Nope. Not this way. This isn’t how it works. Normal people don’t do... this. There are decisions and... pros and cons and... debates and... mental anguish. You don’t just go to tea and decide ‘well, these people are fun. Maybe I will stay.’” Things were changing too fast.

  “Why not?” Carrie asked me.

  “Because... because… because, no.” He couldn’t do that. People couldn’t move here like that. There had to be debates!

  “I thought she was more eloquent than this.” Carrie watched me with amused eyes.

  “She normally is. I think we short-circuited her,” Nic said, now laughing at me.

  “This is not a laughing matter,” I glared at him. “You are not moving to Barrow Bay. I say no. Nay. Never. Nyet.” He needed to get away from our crazy to weigh the decision properly. He would thank me later. We had obviously been a bad influence and he was making rash decisions. People never liked the results of rash decisions. Yes, he would appreciate this when he was being logical again.

  “Is your permission required?” Nic asked, with a smile. “Also, you’re going into other languages. I think it’s time to call the synonym lesson for today.”

  “Nope, you don’t need Jen’s approval at all,” Helen said, as she walked past, dropping off tea cakes. “Welcome to the town, Nic. I will have Judy give you a call as soon as she is done.”

  “Twilight Zone. Have we joined the cast of the Twilight Zone and no one told me?” My world was spinning worse than yesterday. Maybe it was a combination effect? Or maybe a leftover hangover symptom?

  “I already checked. It never filmed here,” Lark told me over the table.

  She would know.

  And just like that, I hit my limit.

  “Done. I’m done for the day. Finished. Spent.” I got up, gathered my purse and looked at Carrie. “Are you done with my house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’m done.”

  “I got that impression,” she replied, taking a cucumber sandwich and biting into it. The little ones, that were cut into a triangle that I only found at High Tea. She just ate it. Like them being done invading my house and office wasn’t an issue. That my possible implication into the crime wasn’t an issue. Like I wasn’t an issue.

  I don’t know why it upset me. I wasn’t an issue. I mean, I knew there wasn’t anything to find. I didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I was the one that reported the issue to them, but right now, being treated like a non-issue was… devastating. I was an issue, damn it. I was important. They should care what I do.

  “I’m important.” The thought broke free of my mouth without the precursor thoughts, and I was too embarrassed to explain, so I turned and took a step to escape. No. I spun back around. “No one moves to Barrow Bay on a whim. No one. That is not how things are done. Hear me? No one.” I spun back and left. Well, I got all the way to the entrance before I remembered my tea. I loved that tea. It was physically hurting me to leave the tea. But my pride had limits.

  “Here you go, sweetie. Continue your dramatic exit,” Helen said, handing me a tea in a to-go cup. Fitting. That was how my day started, too.

  “Thank you, Helen.”

  “No problem, sweetie. We can talk about the wedding colors at a later date.”

  I said “thank you” too early. I should have known better.

  Chapter 12

  It only took me a few minutes to get home, and I was still stunned that the house looked exactly like it had before I left that morning. Nothing out of place. Well, okay, not too far out of place. Some of my books were moved around, but only someone as detail-obsessed as me would notice.

  I collapsed onto my couch and turned on the TV, searching until I found my favorite show. I settled in, ready to ignore the world. Ignore that my source of security was gone. Ignore that my partner was dead. And… okay, I was out of things. But they were big things. I still couldn’t grasp that Henry would never again call to tell me about a new opportunity or complain about his newest client. Never again. Life was too short. So were my TV episodes.

  At five p.m. my phone buzzed.

  Unknown: Hello Jen, this is Donald. Are we still on for today?

  Oh, no. I still had my date. Well, my date-slash-unknowing interview. I needed to find out what the special projects were.

  To be honest with myself, I was regretting not canceling. Nic had told me to, several times. Why didn’t I listen? Oh, yeah. Because Dorothy asked me to. And there was a small part of me that wanted my impression of Donald to be wrong. Okay, a very small piece, but still a little bit of me thought maybe Dorothy could have found my Brecken. My Prince Charming.

  Hah. Donald was no one’s Prince Charming. And to make matters worse, the phrase made me think of Nic. It was his schtick. Charming, disarming, and effective. I bet he was a great FBI agent. But, was he really going to stay? In Barrow Bay? I mean, no one really just decided to stay like that.

  Well, John and Judy did.

  And Lark.

  And we were working on Brecken. Hmm. Maybe they did. What did that mean for me?

  Which led to a different question: Did he like me? I mean, really like me, outside of all the bantering because of the case. Or, was it just the chase, the challenge? If I gave in, would he lose interest? Wa
s that really a thing, or was it just in movies?

  I had no idea.

  Donald: Jen? Does six pm work for you?

  No. Yes. No. Panic. I couldn’t tell him no this late. That would be rude. Plus, then I would have to ask Frank my questions.

  Me: Yes. See you then.

  I could go out with him for one night. It was for Henry. Or at least, his case. I just had to keep that in mind. I was going to find out how he knew Frank and what the special projects were.

  I looked at my phone. Was I that curious? Yes. I was that curious, even before I added in Henry’s murder. I needed to know.

  Shoot. I needed to get changed, because if I went on a date to The Pub in what I was currently wearing, Lindsey would write a blog post about it, and not a complimentary one.

  At five forty-five I was ready and heading out the door, dressed in a cute skirt and my sheer heels with sparkles on them. They made me feel sexy. Strong. A Cinderella going to the ball ready to find her Prince.

  Which they had failed to do, so I was getting a new set of heels after tonight.

  Something sexier.

  Maybe less Cinderella and more Marilyn Monroe. I could be more like her.

  Yep. After tonight, I was retiring Cinderella. I wasn’t waiting for my prince to come find me with the perfect pair of heels. No, I was going to go find him.

  I hesitated as my mind brought me a picture of Nic grinning at me.

  He had been written off soon after the first time he opened his mouth. I still kind of had him in the no chance category. Was I wrong? Could he stay? And want a family? And be loyal? Was he my Cyclops? Was I his Jean Grey? Wait. I wasn’t sure they ended well.

  Also, I needed to limit Lark’s control of our movies. I was drawing the line at Marvel life references. This had gone too far.

  ***

  I made it to the bar at six and slipped in, nodding at Joe, who was working the bar. Will must have been at home with Jasmine. Lucky man.