Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,53

the low bill we sent her.

The night of the break-in, we basically turned this place into a security fortress. Cameras capture everything in high resolution from every angle, 24/7. It’s awfully invasive. But I need to know if The Plumber is connected to Posy’s business or family. And I need to know soon.

I don’t feel great about it, though, because it isn’t even working. We still don’t have a suspect. There must be something I’m missing. “Hey, Teagan,” I try during a rare lull behind the counter. “How’d you get into making donuts, anyway?”

She looks up from the phone that’s always glued to her hand. “Everybody likes donuts. It’s a recession-proof business.”

“Sure. But not everyone makes them.”

She stashes the phone. “Well, it’s kind of a personal story. My family went to Hawaii when I was seven. It was the only really big trip I can remember us taking together.”

Bingo. You should always ask a small question first. If I’d asked Teagan about her family, it would have sounded suspicious. But asking about donuts got her talking anyway.

“We got these Portuguese donuts at a shop on Oahu, and they were still warm. We ate them on the beach, and I rinsed my fingers in the ocean. It was the best thing I’d ever eaten, and twenty years later it still seems magical.”

“That’s a nice story,” I say. “And you haven’t been back there?”

She shakes her head. “I always wanted to go. But my parents were killed in an accident a few years later. I went to culinary school, and I worked for some fancy restaurants. But I didn’t like those jobs. Famous chefs are all assholes. So now I work for myself. I make the donuts for a few customers, and I work here for extra cash. I’ll never be rich, but it’s a good life.”

“Sure is,” I agree mildly. The bell on the door jingles, and another customer walks in. To my surprise, it’s Saroya. She's wearing a sequined sweater, bright red lipstick, and a somewhat sheepish expression.

Interesting.

“Hello there, Gunnar,” she says, blinking rapidly. “I was hoping you might have a decaf sugar-free nonfat peppermint iced latte with my name on it.”

I paste on a smile. “Of course, madame.” I'm as friendly as possible, although it is just a little weird that last time we saw each other, I called her boyfriend an asshole, and then she said that I was “obviously deranged.” Honestly, I didn't expect to see her set foot in this place again. And I was perfectly okay with that.

On the other hand, I'm told that I am a truly great barista and pregnant women are well known for their cravings. “Would you like that for here or to go?”

“For here, please.”

I grab a glass from the clean stack and get busy making her disgusting drink. People are weird. Her especially. While I'm making the coffee, I take surreptitious glances at her. Saroya is very busy examining the cafe and eyeballing the clientele. She’s studying the pie shop like there will be a quiz later.

I can't help but wonder why she’s so obsessed with this place. I guess it’s possible to become fixated on your boyfriend’s ex, especially if they were together for a long time. That's the only reason I can think of why a woman might spend a lot of time in her partner's ex-wife's cafe. Maybe she’s jealous of Posy for some reason. Maybe there's tension at home. Maybe Saroya has some reason to think that Spalding isn't over Posy.

And maybe he isn’t, because Posy is amazing.

“That will be four-fifty, please. Anything to go with it?”

Saroya turns toward the counter again, taking in the pies on offer, examining them with that slightly judgmental squint that’s weirdly familiar. “No thank you.” She passes me a five-dollar bill.

I can’t figure out who she reminds me of, and it’s going to bug me. “You know,” I say as I'm making change, “the first time I made you a latte, I thought you looked really familiar to me. Have we met before?” I pass her two quarters.

Her eyes narrow immediately. “No, of course not. I’d never seen you before in my life.” Then she picks up the cup of coffee and walks quickly away from me, without even putting that change in the tip jar. And without the usual amount of flirting. So that's weird. She takes a seat across the room, her back to me.

Posy emerges from the kitchen. “Hey, Gunnar, you can take that break now.