by Quinn, Taryn
“What is your passcode?”
“It’s my thumbprint and ouchie.” She actually said ouchie as she waved her thumb in the air.
Naturally, Jessica had given her the iPhone 6 and not a newer model with facial recognition. Although I knew damn well that the passcode worked as well as a thumbprint.
“Danielle Alicia Gideon, you better—”
“Okay, okay, it’s for a site. I had to send it. So they can size you. For Christmas!” She kept adding on phrases as if she was building the story as she went.
I was beginning to become very afraid where exactly my photo was on the internet.
In retrospect, I should have questioned her further. I should have demanded her passcode so I could find that picture and destroy it.
My abs were nothing to be ashamed of, but times weren’t quite tough enough that I needed to use them to make a living—yet.
But I was very tired. And I just wanted a hot shower. In peace. Those three minutes surrounded by tiles, pressurized water, and silence were drawing me like a siren’s call.
That was why I muttered, “Keep an eye on those pancakes,” and sprinted for freedom.
I stretched the shower into five minutes and emerged feeling semi-human. I brushed my teeth three times to extend my escape—a blissful time when I didn’t have to consider my ex’s motivations or my daughter’s machinations—and came back downstairs in my standard work uniform of jeans, a white T-shirt, and Timberlands.
Ready for work, I was.
However, I was not ready to see Karen and Dani sitting at the table eating pancakes and passing her phone back and forth as if it was a nuclear reactor.
As soon as they saw me, they stopped laughing and playing keep away and soberly dug into their breakfasts.
“Food’s all done,” Dani said cheerfully. “It’s delicious. Thanks, Dad.”
Noticing she’d already made me a plate—or Karen had—I grumbled out a thanks and sat opposite them at the table. Almost immediately, my phone began to vibrate on the counter where I’d left it. My stomach was rumbling, so I ignored it in favor of scarfing down the pancakes. They were really good.
See, who needed a wife? I was quite capable in the kitchen.
Quite capable in all facets of my life, minus parenting. But I was beginning to think some body-swapping had occurred with the aliens while Dani had been visiting her mother in California.
It was as good an explanation as any other.
The phone vibrations started again. After that, they pretty much didn’t stop.
Dani and Karen looked at each other, their mouths full of food, their expressions equally nervous.
My heartbeat went into triple-time. She hadn’t emailed her mother. Hadn’t uploaded a picture to some clothing site for measurement purposes.
Dear God, what had she done?
Rather than ask her, I decided to see for myself. I wiped my suddenly damp palms on my jeans and stood, determined to stoically meet my fate.
Then I picked up my cell and saw the hundreds of notifications tagging me on Instagram.
It took only one of them—“I’ll help Gideon Get It Done, just give me a time and place”—for me to tuck my phone in my pocket.
Nope. Forget meeting my fate. Whatever my daughter had seen fit to do to her wonderful, loving, devoted father, I was not going to find out right now.
I was going to work.
Four
“Macy, we need another holiday blend.”
Clara’s sharp voice actually made me pause on my way through the door from the kitchen. A line of people snaked through the dining room. Instead of looking disgruntled by the wait, most were more focused on looking around.
And the ratio of women to men was alarming.
Phones were out, but that wasn’t the weird thing. Everyone had their damn phones attached to their hands these days. But people were sharing their screens and craning their necks as if there had been some celebrity sighting. One of the rockers from a few towns over had to be visiting again.
Then again Ian Kagan’s fanbase usually skewed a bit younger.
“A fall blend too.” Jodi’s voice sounded just as harassed. Very unlike my employees.
“On it.” I turned around and grabbed my extra large coffee carafe from the bottom shelf. I hadn’t had to pull it out since the rainy Fourth of July this summer. On autopilot, I set the coffee grinder for an extra large batch and refilled water reservoirs. I glanced at the corner of the counter where Gideon’s thermos was still standing.
Nope. I wasn’t going to think about Gideon right now.
Even if he had never, ever missed a coffee pickup since the first time he’d tasted my damn coffee.
Then again, he’d been lying to me for over two years. Why should anything surprise me now? Not to mention the fact that no one in freaking town had ever mentioned that he had a kid either.
“Macy, how’s that coffee coming?”
What the hell was freaking going on? Were we living in OppositeLandia that Clara would be barking at me for coffee instead of the other way around?
I slammed the top on the first carafe and set it on the pouring station. Clara was building an espresso and had another Americana in progress. Brewed Awakening had singlehandedly turned people in the Cove into coffee snobs. Not that I was proud or anything.
I grabbed the last carafe and then jumped in to help.
“Hello, Mrs. Berkley, nice to see you.”
The older woman raised a nervous hand to her simple cross peeking from her demure collar. “I know it’s busy, but do you think you could…”
I grinned at her. “Donna special coming up.”
Donna Berkley blushed. “I hate to make you do anything extra with it being so busy.”
I waved her off and went to the espresso machine. Donna loved the idea of a fancy drink, but she was far too anxious to really enjoy a good caffeine-loaded latte. That and she was one of my eternals. Between the daily Box of Brews that she picked up for the school and the bakery items she purchased every Friday, the third grade teacher was one of my favorite kinds of customers.
I quickly tamped down a quarter espresso bean batch and set aside the remainder to use with another order. A “Donna” was more cocoa powder and cinnamon with frothy almond milk.
She didn’t really know what was in it. None of my customers were privy to their specialty drinks. I liked it that way. It kept a little mystique where the café was concerned.
I spotted two of my other regulars in line right behind her and started up their regular orders. It was busy enough that they’d get what I gave them and not fucking complain.
Clara and Jodi both had orders going, and we worked around each other in a choreography that only a coffee house would understand. However, this dance was usually done by now, which normally gave us some time to get ready for the even heavier lunch rush.
Not that I didn’t love all the extra customers—and money—but at ten in the morning? Yeah, that didn’t compute.
I glanced over at the far side of the counter to find Tish giving me some serious side-eye and an expression loaded with what-the-fuckery.
This was usually the time Tish and I snarked over coffee and a fritter. She tried to figure out what her secret ingredient was, I wouldn’t give her a single clue, and we’d trade insults for ten minutes. It was the goddamn highlight of my morning.
Not to mention her guesses had definitely made my list for other secret blends.
I quickly made Tish’s drink and snaked a fritter out of the case. I dropped it on top of her to-go cup. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, Cayenne.”
Tish Burns—auto body princess and metal mistress—jogged closer. “Girl, you rock.” She shoved the pastry into her mouth and waved.
“Ladies, what’s going on? Got a little backed up?”
Tish shot a look over her shoulder and we both rolled our eyes at Lucky Roberts’s booming voice from the door. He was a massive tree of a guy with more hair than sense. For
some reason, Gideon kept him on his payroll. Lucky seemed to flap his damn lips and flip his hair more than he worked, but I wasn’t his boss.
Thank fuck.
The sea of women turned at his deep baritone. Some gave him a longer perusal—he was objectively attractive if you were into that sort of thing—but most were disappointed. The murmuring increased as Lucky waded into the fray. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and dug out a little notebook from his back pocket. He licked the tip of the pencil and gave the nearest female his most charming grin. “Can I take your order?”
I rolled my eyes. That pencil action wasn’t nearly as hot when Lucky did it.
Ugh. I had to get one particular problematic male out of my head. Especially if Lucky’s over-the-top charm somehow reminded me of Gideon. You know, the guy who rarely flirted. Not to mention that Gideon was on my shit list. I didn’t have time to think about him or the eye-crossing kiss he’d planted on me.
Okay, I’d started it, but I’d been caught up in the moment. Oh, and I’d still been a clueless idiot.
I didn’t like that feeling. There was no reason he should have kept that very important detail to himself. A freaking kid.
It wasn’t even so much the kid. It was that he’d slap me in the freaking face with a huge lie. Him of all people.
“Dammit,” I muttered as a blast of steam got me on the side of my hand. Now I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing—again.
I looked up and groaned. Jodi’s heart eyes for that big idiot Lucky were going to cause another pileup in the café. Jesus.
“Gonna need another holiday blend, Jodi.”
“Huh?” She blinked her huge blue eyes at me. “Right. Right.” She twirled and hustled to the grinder.
In no time, we’d taken care of another ten people between us, but the line never seemed to budge. In fact, it seemed as if it was getting bigger. Was I actually going to max out capacity?
Good God, please don’t have a spot check from the damn fire marshal.
Fuck.
“What the hell is going on?”
Clara poured another two mugs. “Didn’t you see the community page?”
The last time the community Facebook page had been mentioned in the café, I’d had to live through Veronica’s blundering want ad for a baby daddy. Sweet Jesus. “Do I ever?”
Clara rolled her eyes. “That’s true. Girl, you didn’t look?”
I sighed. It was hard to imagine, but I didn’t live for the gossip mill in Crescent Cove. “Obviously not. Is that rockstar dude in town or something?”
“No, better.”
“Better?”
“Well, at least I thought it was better. And who freaking knew Gideon was hiding those washboard abs under his T-shirts?”
The incomprehension made me literally deaf for a moment. The whole café seemed like it was sucked into a vacuum. Why would Clara know what he looked like without a shirt? Hell, I didn’t even know, and he’d had his damn tongue in my mouth. But beyond that, why the hell was it on Facebook?
“I’m sorry?”
Clara shook her head. “Well, beyond the whole not dad bod he’s rocking, did you even know he was a dad? I mean, wow.”
I snapped the espresso handle a little harder than was completely necessary. Enough that the grinds flew all over.
Clara’s eyes went wide, and she reached for the bucket we kept under the espresso maker. “Sorry, Macy. Forgot you guys have—”
“We don’t have anything. Look all you want. I don’t freaking care. What I care about is why the line is never getting any shorter.” I knew my voice held far too much venom for the situation, but I didn’t care.
Clara didn’t even miss a beat. Everyone was used to my snarling, and I wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. “Right, well, his daughter posted a picture and tagged Gideon’s Instagram business page. Kinda went insane from there. Firstly, hi, we didn’t even know he was a dad, and secondly, damn, son.”
“You’re hanging out with Rylee too much.”
Clara grinned. “More like gotta keep up with you.” She finished a latte with a leaf flourish and brought the drink to the counter.
“I don’t talk like Rylee,” I muttered.
“Who doesn’t talk like me?” Rylee came up behind me, tying on an apron.
“You were off today.”
“Obviously, all employees were called in to deal with this insanity. You should have called me. Luckily, I was alerted to the mayhem.”
I sighed. “Yeah, well, I just walked into this.”
“Did you know Gideon’s picture now has like sixteen thousand likes?”
“What?” What the hell kind of action was he hiding under his shirt?
Nope. I didn’t care. Liar McLiarpants could keep his nice chest. Even if I’d felt just how firm and wondrous it was last night.
God, I had to be hard up if I was even still thinking about it.
Now who’s the Liar McLiarpants?
Now that Rylee was helping out, the line started moving a little. People were not leaving, however. In fact, they kept peering around and checking their phones.
I knew an impressive chest could make women go ga-ga, but it wasn’t as if he was Chris Hemsworth, for God’s sake.
I headed to the kitchen to liberate my extra large coffeemaker. I hadn’t had to pull that sucker out since my last anniversary when we’d run a free medium coffee special as a thank you to patrons.
On the way by, I heard voices.
“Did you see those sweet pictures with his daughter? I came over from Syracuse. There’s no way I’m not going to put my hat in the ring for this guy.”
“What?”
I must have said it out loud because the very professional-looking woman looked up. “I suppose you think you have a chance?”
“Look, sister. I’m not looking for a chance. I have more than enough problems than to hook myself up to a single dad.”
Okay, that might’ve been a little harsh. What was my problem?
“That’s fine. More for me.”
“What about me?” Her blond friend shoved a corner of one of Vee’s peanut butter chocolate chip cookies into her mouth.
“We’ll find out if he likes redheads or blonds now, won’t we?”
“You are all crazy.” I shook my head and pushed through the swinging door to the back.
I busied myself with making a supersized batch of coffee. There wasn’t even six-thousand people in Crescent Cove, let alone sixteen-thousand.
“Don’t do it,” I told myself as I slammed the basket of coffee grounds into its slot.
Ivy Beck pushed her way into the kitchen, her eyes wild as she cradled her very pregnant belly. “Do I have backup ice cream in here?”
Saved by the pregnancy bell. More cold water to cool my damn jets about John Gideon. “Are you having a run?” I held up my hand. “I’ll get it, Pregzilla.”
Ivy pushed her ever present braids over her shoulder. “Have you seen it out there?”
I unlocked the big walk-in freezer and swung open the ancient door. But it was cold as fuck. I should probably sit my ass down in there a few minutes so I didn’t do something stupid like going looking for Gideon and demanding some answers about this insanity. “I’ve been kinda busy,” I said from the bowels of the freezer. “How many do you need?”
“All of it.”
I turned at her voice in the doorway. “Excuse me?”
Ivy blew flyaway strands that had come out of her braids out of her face. “I’m serious. The line around your cafe goes all the way down to that new clothing store, Vintage December.”
I hauled out two tubs of chocolate truffle and debated unearthing my personal stash of caramel swirl. Nope. I had a feeling I’d need that one. I shoved it under a pail of cookie dough.
No one needed to know about that one but me.
I grabbed the spare vanilla I used for coffee shakes to ease my guilty conscience and loaded it all on my bastardized hand truck with a basket
attached for just this kind of thing. “So, what does that mean? Are we talking—”
“Like it’s a freaking One Direction concert.”
“What? Oh my God.”
“I sold out of all my ice cream. The diner has an hour wait for a stool at the counter. Women are planting themselves on the grass near the gazebo with freaking long range lenses and binoculars.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Pinkie swear.”
“Will you sit down or something?” I pushed her out of the doorway of the freezer and pulled over my rolling chair I used to do paperwork at my hidden corner desk.
She sat gratefully. “Do you have any of that special Gatorade?”
I spun and went to my restaurant grade fridge. I’d kept a six-pack of low sugar grape Gatorade for her since she passed out on us in the height of summer. Damn tin can of an ice cream truck was a sauna. Of course now it was chillier than my apartment, thanks to August, her big brother, and Rory Ferguson, her fiancé. They’d jerry-rigged a super conductor of an air conditioning unit for the truck so she could withstand even the craziest of pregnancy hot flashes.
I twisted off the top and handed the bottle to her. “At least the entire town is making out on this shitshow.”
“Kinleigh convinced my brother to help her bring racks of clothing and her trunks out to do a sidewalk sale. It’s like a festival out there.”
“Festival of women on the hunt for single dads.”
She laughed. “Pretty much. Add in all the Instagram stories that everyone is sharing and tagging your café and it’s getting ridiculous out there.”
I only knew what an Instagram story was because of Clara. She’d convinced me to get an Instagram account for the café and she managed it. She always had a damn camera in my face.
“The last I heard two of the local news vans were taking up residence just past the park.”
“Good God.”
“Macy?” Clara peeked her head into the kitchen. “Councilwoman Whitaker is here.”
“Crap.”
Ivy finished her drink and handed me the bottle. “I’ll head her off. Give you a second to breathe.”
Was I really going to let a heavily pregnant woman run interference for me?