Wasn’t it the truth?
We paused at the corner to wait for the light. I was carrying around forty pounds, so it wasn’t that the boxes were heavy, but seeing over them wasn’t easy. I had to peer around the sides, and there were more and more people on the sidewalk the farther north we went. I turned my head. “I thought you said it was right up the street.”
She shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve never actually walked. When I drive it is, but we’re almost there, promise.”
I didn’t complain but wondered why we just didn’t drive.
“It’s right there,” she said, pointing across the street.
My heart started to pound in my chest. “When did Mulligan’s Cup move from Dorchester to Beacon Hill?” I asked, taking a deep, nervous breath.
Mulligan’s Cup was a family-owned coffee shop that, once upon a time, had been Mulligan’s Bakery. In the eighties, when coffee shops became the thing, they changed names and direction. That wasn’t what was causing alarm bells to go off in my head, though. It was the fact that the owner’s son ran with Tommy’s crowd. It was the fact that he was the one who’d waited in the car while Tommy attacked Kayla and me that night more than five years ago. And it was the fact that he was a punk I never wanted to see again.
“I don’t think they moved. I think they expanded,” she said, interrupting my dark thoughts.
I took a minute to calm myself down as we waited for the light to turn. Expansion, that was a good thing, and it didn’t mean Declan would be there. Either way, I went on instant alert.
When we walked in, I quickly glanced around for a place to set down these fucking boxes. I wanted to get the hell out of there. It looked like the coffee bar was the only open space. The place was extremely crowded, and I had difficulty navigating through the tables and chairs to get to it.
Peyton was in front of me. “Declan,” she called. “These are for you—they were delivered to the boutique by accident.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Nearly out of my mind, I considered dropping the boxes right where I stood, but that would only make a scene.
Someone lifted the top one from my grasp. Not just someone. Declan Mulligan. He still looked like the punk he was. Even at twenty-seven, his jeans were still baggy and cinched with a black leather belt complete with small spikes. He wore a short-sleeved T-shirt, and I could see all the new ink he’d gotten since I’d last seen him not long enough ago. He had the same multiple piercings in his ears and lip, and it looked like in his nipples now, too.
Shock registered on his face and he looked anxious. “Logan,” he gasped in a voice that spoke of way too many cigarettes.
I might have sneered at him. I really don’t know.
He looked down at the box in his arms.
He should be fucking anxious. He was lucky I never went after him. He was lucky I didn’t kill him the day I ran into him a few years ago when I saw him with his old man at a funeral. He was lucky word on the street said he was no longer involved with Tommy.
Panic and fear in his eyes, he twisted toward Peyton. “You could have just called down here and I would have sent someone to get the boxes.”
She waved her hand in a flirtatious way. “I’ve been in and out all day and I wanted to make sure you had them in case you needed them.”
She’d used me in a ploy to see him.
She’d fucking used me.
The bastard actually smiled at her. “That was nice of you.”
I dropped the box I was holding on top of the one in his arms and then turned to Peyton. “Come on, let’s go.”
My voice was tight and she gave me an odd look. “Go ahead.” Her tone clearly said I was an asshole.
Great.
She hurried to Declan’s aid but he didn’t accept her help. “I got it, Peyton. Look, it’s really busy in here—let’s talk later.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, willing patience. Then I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. “Peyton,” I said.
She turned toward me with a scowl on her face.
“I need to get back inside the boutique and get that black bag.”
Her eyes went back to Declan and she was clearly distracted. “Right, El—”
I cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry,” I said as calmly as I could considering I felt like my skin was about to bust open with the hatred that rushed through me. I also didn’t want her to even breathe Elle’s name near Declan.
It wasn’t until Declan was in the backroom that she finally started for the door.
I really didn’t have time for this shit.
Hustling, I caught up with her. “Sorry about that, but I really am in a hurry.”
Angered, she stopped and turned to look at me. “I had the wrong idea about you. I thought you were someone nice.”