I look back over my shoulder, one foot out the door. “Yeah?”
He holds the book up, mouth sealed in a flat line. “Thanks,” he utters, the word appearing unwelcome on his lips. Unable to reply to his feigned endearment, I focus my gaze straight ahead and bound for the front door.
My mother always says that one of the many things she loves about me is my curious nature. My most popular question growing up was Why? followed by fifty questions to explain the why. I know it drove Mom crazy. To her credit, she always took time to answer them, though she probably wanted to pull her hair out.
Right now, that curiosity is making me mad. Or maybe it’s Vance’s attitude that is making me mad. I can’t be sure. But as I push open the door to Anna’s pastry shop, all thoughts of Vance evaporate, replaced by the aroma of warm cinnamon sugar and hazelnut espresso. Anna’s is known around town for her gooey cinnamon rolls and her coffee, which are to die for.
I started working for Anna about seven years ago. She and my parents are longtime friends from their high school days. When I was younger, I’d hang out here and inhale cinnamon rolls while I watched Anna work. As I got older, I’d assist with clean-up and actually get paid. Plus, she allowed me to help her bake in the kitchen which was by far my favorite part.
“Hey, Ems.” Troy greets me as I stow my purse behind the counter. Automatically, my lips lift high onto my cheeks. We’ve been working together for a couple of years now, since the day I roped him in when he needed extra money and one of our employees quit. He makes me laugh on an almost daily basis, and he’s good for my soul. Tugging on the black and white polka-dotted bow tie around his neck, his soft brown eyes blaze with excitement. “So, what do you think?”
“I think…,” I angle my head to the side, lips tilting in thought, “it’s adorable, but it’s not you.”
“Agreed.” He yanks on one end with his fingers until it loosens, tossing it into a nearby trash can. “I knew I could count on you to tell me the truth. Thanks, love.”
“Wait.” My head spins around. “What just happened?”
“Your sister happened, that’s what.” He chuckles, touching his neck like he can breathe again. “You know how pushy she can be. Not to mention the fact that I had to drag her away from those stores so I could get here on time.”
“Yeah, I have no idea how anyone can shop that much. But you already know how I feel about that topic.” I lower an apron down from the hook and tie it around my waist. When I look up at Troy, he’s leaning against the register, studying me.
“Spit it out already.”
“Okay, okay.” I take in a much needed breath. “I dreamt about Zack the other night,” I confess, frowning.
“Oh, Ems.” He steps closer and wraps his long arms around me. “You miss him, I know. I miss him, too,” he whispers, squeezing me tight. His words grow quieter. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t know what brought it on. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.” I pull back from his hold and give him a weak smile. “I’m fine, though. Really I am.”
He grasps my hand in his, a softness in his eyes. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. The world isn’t going to think any less of you.” He lifts his hand from mine and taps a single finger against my nose. “Not that you care what the world thinks.”
We both laugh, right when the doorbell jingles and in walks Vance Davenport. That makes three times I’m surprised today. What is he doing here? I duck behind the counter like I’m ten years old and tug on Troy’s jean-clad leg.
“Can you handle him?” I whisper. “I’m going to see if Anna needs help.”
Troy stares down at me, a gleam in his dark eyes. “That depends. What’s in it for me?”
“Troy!” I whisper-shout.
“Okay, okay. Run along. I’ll handle the angry man.”
With my back to the counter, I casually stand up and walk through the swinging doors that lead to the pastry area. Once they close, I slump against them and let out a sigh that earns me a chuckle from Anna.
“Afternoon, doll. You okay?” she asks over her shoulder as she opens the oven to take out a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. My stomach rumbles in response, it doesn’t care that I had chocolate cake earlier. Anna sets the pan down on the center workspace and shoots me a knowing grin. “Come on over here. You can have a hot cinnamon roll and tell Auntie Anna what’s going on.”
I slink past the oven and grab a chair. “There’s nothing going on and absolutely nothing to talk about. Can I still have the cinnamon roll? Because—”
“Ember,” Troy peeks his head in, “that guy you were hiding from, Mr. Hot and Severely Angry, he asked for you.”
“Since when do you hide from anyone, Ember?” Anna chimes in, glaring at me. “Nothing to talk about, huh?” She blows her strawberry blonde bangs away from her eyes as I reluctantly yield and hop off the chair, replacing my awkwardness with a metal suit of armor.
I have a feeling I’m going to need it.