Best Served Cold

by Emma Hart

  Sophie: OMG. UNICORN ICE CREAM. YES. DO IT.

  Well, that was that, wasn’t it?

  I texted back a smiley face and put the lid on the tub so I could put it in the proper freezer. After doing that and tidying up, I grabbed my phone and purse and headed out to get some lunch.

  Daley’s Café was at the other end of Main Street. It was a quaint little place, one that was truly worthy of social media obsessions, but I was glad it wasn’t. It meant I could walk in there right now and get a sandwich and a coffee and move on with more renovations during the afternoon.

  I pushed open the door and welcomed the blast of air conditioning that came at me. Summer was almost right upon us, and I was already over the thick, humid air that circled every inch of the island.

  I closed the door behind me and walked right up to the counter. It was busy with barely any tables left empty, but I was lucky that everyone was already sitting down.

  Jenna Portman flashed me a smile, her eyes crinkling. “Raelynn. How are ya, honey?”

  “I’m good, thanks, Mrs. Portman. How are you?”

  “Truckin’ along, honey. I’m all right. What can I get for ya?” Her ruby-red lips spread into a wide smile that made her coffee-brown eyes sparkle.

  I peered at the sandwiches she had available. “I’ll have the tuna-cucumber baguette, please. And a latte.”

  “You got it, honey.”

  I swear, not even bees used the word ‘honey’ as much as she did.

  Husband? You were honey. Stranger? You were honey. President of the United States? You were honey.

  Hell, the Queen of England would be honey to her.

  She handed me the pre-wrapped sandwich and turned to make the latte. “So, I hear you’re renovatin’ that shop of yours.”

  I guess news traveled fast when you put a big sign up with “CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS” in Sharpie.

  “Yep. Decided it was finally time to bring it into the twenty-first century.” I rested against the side of the counter.

  She shot me a look over her shoulder. “Nothin’ to do with that ex of yours bein’ next door?”

  “If it was, I’d have done it when the asshole opened two years ago.”

  “Tell me how you really feel about him.”

  “If I didn’t think I’d scare off your customers, I would.” I smirked and handed her my card.

  Her tinkling laugh rang out through the café, and I smiled as I took back my card and grabbed my lunch.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome, honey. There’s an empty seat over the back there.” She nodded, and I glanced over at the spot she’d motioned toward.

  I gave her another smile and “thank you” and headed for the empty table. After I got settled, I unwrapped my sandwich and brought up the Etsy site on my phone to browse through stuff for the store.

  I munched my way through my sandwich and contemplated buying fairy lights. But since I had the ice cream lights, did I need them? Was there such a thing as too many lights?

  The lights were cute, though. Maybe I could string them along the high-top counter and the ordering counter. That was an option. Since I was going pastel colors and unicorn ice cream, I wanted a dreamy, fairytale-style store.

  There was nothing more magical than fairy lights.

  Except, you know, fairies. Not that there was any proof of their existence.

  Which circled back to my original point, but I digress.

  I added them to my basket just in case I decided to buy them later.

  “Mind if I sit here?”

  I froze.

  “I’m gonna sit anyway,” Chase said. “There’s nowhere else empty.”

  Jerking my head around, I glared at him and motioned toward the empty chair opposite me. I barely paid him any attention as he sat and I turned back to my phone.

  I was going to buy the fairy lights. Too much sparkle be damned.

  Was there such a thing as too much sparkle?

  Why was I so worried about things being too much? If they were, I could take them down.

  Damn it. I was overthinking literally all of this.

  Business was hard.

  “How are the renovations going?” Chase asked.

  I glanced up. “Haven’t started.”

  His lips curved into a half-smile. “When are you starting?”

  “Soon.”

  “How much are you changing?”

  “Lots.”

  “How long until you’re open again?”

  “Not sure.”

  He pushed his coffee to the side and leaned forward on the table. His toned arm muscles stretched against his black t-shirt, and his bright blue-green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Wow. That’s the most you’ve spoken to me in at least a year. And you graced me with two linked words? I’m honored.”

  I glared at him. He was getting on my nerves. I was sure he only sat at this table because I was here—I’d watched him for months as he’d taken his lunch back to the store. He had to walk past Best Served Cold, so I knew he’d done this deliberately.

  “Come on, Rae. You can’t keep ignoring me. You broke up with me, remember?”

  I did remember. All too vividly.

  “I would understand this if I’d broken up with you. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t make sense?” The words escaped me through gritted teeth. “You open an ice cream store next to mine and almost put me out of business, and you think I should be happy you sat your dumb ass down opposite me and want to talk to me?”

  He actually flinched. “All right, when you put it like that…”

  “Put it like what?” I snapped, tossing my phone in my purse. “There’s no other way to put it, Chase. You opened your store to get back at me in some petty tirade and almost ruined my life. Excuse me if I don’t give a fuck if you want to talk to me.”

  I stood, grabbing my half-drunk coffee and finished sandwich. I tossed the wrappers in the trashcan behind me and stalked for the door. All I’d wanted was to eat, but now I felt as though I wanted to throw the sandwich up.

  How dare he?

  How fucking dare he sit opposite me like he hadn’t ruined my life? I hadn’t broken his heart for malicious reasons. My grandparents had dumped the store on me, my parents had left town, and my aunt had been dying.

  I hadn’t had time for a relationship. Not one as serious as ours had been getting.

  I hadn’t been ready.

  “Rae.”

  I ignored him and continued my stomping up the sidewalk to Best Served Cold. He said my name again, but I didn’t care. I was all out of fucks to give where Chase Aarons was concerned.

  I rifled through my purse one-handed to find my keys. My fingers circled the hard, cold metal, and they clinked as I tugged them out. Finding the key to the door was a struggle since there were so many on there, and I was more than aware of Chase getting closer and closer to me.

  Finally, I tucked my coffee carefully between my forearm and my stomach to free up my other hand and located the key. I unlocked the door, shoving it open so I could lock it from the inside and stop this stupid conversation before it went any further.

  Of course, life didn’t work that simply.

  I tripped on the frame, sending my coffee cup flying. A squeal escaped my mouth as the cup slammed into the floor, the plastic lid snapping off and sending coffee spurting all over the tiles and the front of the main counter.

  I tried to steady myself on my feet, but failed, and the only thing that stopped my nose from slamming into the floor was the fact I threw my arms out in front of me and broke my fall.

  I missed the hot coffee by inches.

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head, taking a deep breath.

  God. Fucking. Damn. It.

  “It might be a little late to remind you of this, but there is a slight step there.” Chase’s tone held the slightest hint of laughter.

  I jerked my head around to stare up at him. “Really? I had no idea.
”

  “We’re making progress in the conversation department, I see.” He held out both his hands for me to take to get up.

  I shrugged my purse strap off my shoulder and got up by myself, then grabbed the bright pink strap to haul it onto the counter. “You can leave now.”

  “Let me help you clean up.” He stepped fully inside and stepped toward me. “That’s a mess.”

  “I can see that it’s a mess!” I dumped the purse and went to the back to grab the mop. I’d clean it properly later, but for now, I wanted it up off the floor.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I’m fine!” I snapped, shoving the mop into the hot mess of coffee and moving it back and forth a little too vigorously. My cheeks were burning with annoyance and, yes, embarrassment.

  It wasn’t the sassy walk in and door slam I’d hoped for, that was for sure.

  It didn’t happen like this in the movies.

  No. In the movies, the girl escaped her annoying ex, slammed the door in his face, and locked it while flipping him the bird.

  I almost fell flat on my face, spilled coffee, and mopped it up.

  Girl power to the max.

  Pfft.

  With the coffee now soaking into my mop, I bent to grab the empty cup and lid. Chase didn’t move as I did it. He didn’t even move as I tossed the cup in the trash and put the mop behind the counter.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you still here?”

  “You haven’t really started in here, have you?” He met my eyes. “Nothing has changed.”

  “I can take a hammer to you, if you’d like. That’d be a welcome improvement.”

  His eyes shone. “You’re more than welcome to try, babe.”

  “Call me babe again, and the next conversation you’ll have will be with a doctor explaining why I knocked your teeth out.” I put my hands on my hips. “Again, you can leave now.”

  He held up his hands. “Are you all right? You hit the ground pretty hard.”

  “I’d like to hit you pretty hard.”

  “I’m trying to be nice to you.”

  “Don’t bother. I don’t want you to be nice to me. That’s pretty damn obvious, don’t you think?”

  Chase sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Can you really not take two minutes to hold a real conversation with me?”

  I glared at him. “The fact you need me to answer that really pisses me off. You’re not stupid.”

  “Depends how you define stupid.”

  “I define it as my ex, who tried to ruin my life, standing in front of me and not getting the hint.”

  “I define it as my ex, who’s so blinded by misguided hatred, standing in front of me and not talking to me.”

  “There’s my definition, and then there’s the wrong definition.” I folded my arms across my chest, never taking my eyes off him. “And there is nothing misguided about my hatred. Unless the reason you’re still here is to get on your knees and beg me for forgiveness just so I can tell you where to shove it, the door is right there.” I nodded toward it and turned away from him.

  It wasn’t fair that someone who was such a monumental asshole was so handsome.

  “Did I just see Chase leave here?”

  The soft, feminine voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I peered to see Sophie standing in the doorway with her thumb cocked over her shoulder.

  “Finally,” I muttered.

  She looked over her shoulder and back at me. “Is there something I should know?”

  “Yes. He’s an insufferable, disrespectful, ignorant pig who needs a smack.”

  “Ah. You spoke to him.”

  I snorted. “Under duress.” I spent the next few minutes recapping my stressful lunch and the accident after.

  “Ohhh.” She closed the door and nodded. “I wondered why it smelled like coffee in here.”

  My groan was loud as I slumped onto the counter. “What am I doing, Soph? I can’t do this renovation. I’m holding onto a dream I can’t reach.”

  “Yeah, here we go. One conversation with Chase Aarons and you’re all woe-is-me. Why don’t you just admit that the reason he hurt you so much is that you’re not over him?”

  I bolted upright and held up a finger. “I am so over Chase.”

  She shook her head, her blonde hair flying. “No, you’re not. You never got over him. You went from heartbreak to hating him. That’s not how you get over someone.”

  “There are literally hundreds of romantic comedies that show that as a perfectly acceptable way to get over someone.”

  “You’re not in a Hollywood movie. You’re in Key West.”

  “I don’t get what you’re trying to say. I’m tired. I’ve had the lunch from hell. The only good thing to come out of today is the ice cream, so if you’re going to try to tell me all the ways you think I still have feelings for that royal douchecanoe, then you can follow him out the door.”

  Soph narrowed her eyes. “Are you due for your period? You’re a right miserable bitch.”

  I sighed. “I think I am. Sorry. I know you’re trying to help in your own weird way.” I paused. “Wanna try the new ice cream?”

  She put her purse on the counter. “Only if it’s in one of those new cones.”

  I nodded and pulled a waffle cone with chocolate and sprinkles from the holder. Two scoops of unicorn ice cream later, I handed the bubblegum-flavored mystical-looking treat to my best friend.

  She wasted absolutely no time trying it. Her moans of delight had me biting the inside of my cheek. “Rae, this is fucking amazing. Where did you get the idea?”

  “Jessie.” I shrugged. “She wanted unicorn ice cream. It’s unique and quite a lot of work to do. Grandma said I needed to give people a reason to come to the store.”

  She admired her half-eaten ice cream. “And this will attract all kinds of little girls and teens and people looking to get the best Instagram.”

  Another shrug.

  “That’s brilliant. Don’t you ever tell me you can’t do this again.” She waggled a bright green fingernail at me. “We need to get you an Instagram for this place!”

  I blinked at her. “What? Why?”

  “To get the word out! You can chronicle your renovations and get people interested before you even open. It’s the perfect time to do it!”

  “I can’t take photos for anything, Soph. And who the hell wants to see me renovating this—what are you doing?”

  She’d put her ice cream in the holder while I’d been talking and had her phone open. “Making you an account.”

  “I didn’t—I don’t—”

  Looking me dead in the eye, she said, “Do you trust me?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you want to crush Chase?”

  I wasn’t entirely against it… “I want people to know I’m better than him.”

  “Then listen to me. I’m making you an account.” With a flourish, she said, “Ta-da! You’re officially on the ‘Gram!”

  “What do I do with it?”

  She pressed her hand against her face. “It’s a good thing I have the afternoon off. Come on. We’re going to the store to get some paint, then I’m gonna teach you how to use this thing.”

  Oh, goodie.

  CHAPTER FIVE – RAELYNN

  By the time lunchtime rolled around the following day, I’d cleared out all the old furniture in the store—including the rickety old stools I had hated—and I’d taken them to the junkyard to get rid of them.

  The store felt empty, but after I’d been to buy paint with Sophie, I’d thought about my conversation with Chase.

  He’d been right when he’d said I hadn’t even started.

  It’d do me no good to have all the amazing light fixtures and tables if the walls still looked like the paper on them was older than me.

  Armed with a steamer that Grandpa insisted would get the paper off and a trash bag, I stood in the middle of the room and looked at the paper. It was peeling in places, and the bright-blue
color it’d once been had faded more than I’d thought before.

  The paper by the windows was lighter where the sun had hit it directly. The shape of jars and canisters were still perfectly bright where they’d sat on the shelf, and the sun hadn’t been able to get through them.

  It wouldn’t be out of place in an antique manor house or something.

  The problem was, I had no idea how to use this steamer. I’d rented it from a company in town, but my bravado had gotten the best of me, and I’d said I’d used one before.

  The biggest machine I’d ever operated that wasn’t a car was a vacuum cleaner.

  How long did it even take to remove wallpaper?

  The guy at the store had said the steamer was ready to go, so I pressed the On button and grabbed the flat plate I assumed went on the wall.

  Steam was coming out of it, and I kind of waved it in front of the wall. The steam was going on the paper, and that was how it worked, right?

  I put it down and grabbed the scraper. The paper didn’t budge.

  Nope.

  That wasn’t how it worked.

  A light chuckle came from the doorway, and I readied myself before I turned around.

  “That’s not how it works.” Chase’s lips tugged to the side.

  “Really?” I drawled. “I couldn’t figure that out.”

  He laughed again. “Try holding it right against the wall.”

  I picked the steamer back up. It looked too hot to do that, but clearly, my way hadn’t worked, so…

  I pressed the hot plate against the wall.

  “Make sure you move it.”

  “What?” I turned, pulling it from the wall.

  “It’s like a straightening iron. You’ll burn the wall if you keep it in one place.”

  “Oh. Like…Side to side?”

  “Want me to show you?”

  Yes.

  No.

  Maybe.

  “Don’t you have to work?”

  He shook his head. “Marnie’s in there. She helps me out on weekends and school breaks now.”

  Right. His sister. She was eighteen now. That made sense.

  I looked at the old paper and back at him. “Sure.”

  He stopped as if I’d just thrown a curveball at him.

  I guess I had.