“Are you on vacation with her?”
“Something like that.”
“And she’s really okay?”
“She’s terrific,” I lied. “Couldn’t be happier.”
“Good,” he said.
I glanced over at Emery, who was watching all of this with concern and confusion. “Coffee to go?”
She started to walk by us when Michael shook his head. “We’re okay. Really.”
Considering the timing and the fact that Dahlia probably ran to her car, I stepped aside. “You are free to go then.”
“Usually that’s my line,” he muttered, reaching back for his wife’s hand.
“Huh?”
“I’m a cop. A detective.”
I did not know that. “In Boston?”
“Yeah.” He looked back at his wife, who was staring at his hand like it was a slug. “Kierston?”
Reluctantly she took it.
Michael turned back to me. “Give her my regards.”
“I’ll do that.”
Emery and I watched as they left and I grimaced for Michael when I heard his wife hiss, “What the fuck aren’t you telling me, Michael Sullivan?”
I never heard his reply because the door slammed shut behind them.
“I’m guessing you know something I don’t,” Emery said.
“Yes.” I gave her a regretful smile. “Dahlia told me a story a long time ago, a story she has not repeated since, a story no one else knows. Maybe one day she’ll tell it.”
“He isn’t over her.”
Surprise shot through me at her supposition. “Why do you say that? How do you know they were even . . . a thing?”
She shrugged. “The way he looked at her. Like he hated and loved her all at once.”
Sadness fell over me, ruining any buzz I’d had from the morning sex I’d had with Vaughn. “I’m going to go check on Dahlia.”
“Give her a hug from me.”
I squeezed Em’s hand in answer before heading out of the store to find my best friend.
TWENTY-FIVE
Vaughn
It was unheard of for Vaughn to take two evenings off work.
Until now.
He wasn’t going to lie to himself—he was a little antsy about his decision to give his night manager, Freya, and his new daytime manager, Graham, extra responsibilities so he could spend more time with Bailey.
Yet . . . he also couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to spend an obnoxious amount of time with the woman.
He looked over at her sitting in the passenger seat of his car, unable to shift the unease he felt. When he’d picked her up from her place ten minutes ago he’d known right away just from her kiss that she was preoccupied. Usually Bailey gave her all to a kiss, just like she did with everything in life.
Something was bothering her. And Vaughn was worried that something was their very new relationship.
“Is it because I asked you to wear a skirt tonight?”
“What?” Bailey frowned.
“You’re quiet.”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “No. Although why a skirt?” She pointed to the high-waist flared green skirt that came to her knee. She had a cream silk camisole tucked into it and was wearing a matching sweater. The skirt was as perfect as if he’d chosen it himself.
“I wanted to see your legs.” He shrugged, nonchalant.
He felt her stare and turned to give her a quick grin before concentrating back on the road.
“You wanted to see my legs?”
“You have great legs and you’ve worn jeans every day this week. I’ve seen you wearing a dress all summer. I missed them,” he teased. “And I thought you weren’t offended by the request because you wore a skirt but . . . ?”
“I’m not offended. I kind of found it sexy.”
He was pleased but still confused. “Then what’s going on?”
Bailey sighed. “I’m a little worried about Dahlia. She had a bad day. I won’t go into it. And I’m worried about Vanessa and the fact that I haven’t seen her since I kicked her out. And I’m worried that you might be a workaholic who doesn’t care if we don’t see each other a lot and I care if we don’t see each other a lot because I work a lot, too, and you work a lot and I just think that we should talk about it because I am more than willing to make time for you and I need to know if you will make time for me and this is way too soon to mention it.”
God, he loved when she rambled at him.
It was unbelievably adorable.
What she had to say, though, still concerned him. “Okay. Number one on that list: Dahlia. Is there anything I can do?”
“What?”
“Is there anything I can do?”
When she didn’t reply, Vaughn shot her a look. She was staring at him, openmouthed. It was his turn to ask, “What?”
“You!” She gestured to him in exasperation. “You’re being perfect right now and you have to stop.”
Laughter filled his voice. “Why would I stop?”
“Because it makes me want to have sex with you all the time. Like all the time. And my vagina might eventually break!”
Vaughn threw his head back laughing so hard he almost swerved. No woman in his acquaintance had ever used the word “vagina” in a sentence, let alone worried about how too much sex with him would break it. God, he loved this crazy, cute, sexy woman.