Mayor Biscuit, sitting on the floor next to the counter, locked his gaze on the incoming duo. His body was tense and a low growl erupted from his throat.
The cat stared back at Mayor Biscuit, although it was hard to tell if it was perturbed given its resting feline bitch face.
“Jesus take the wheel, not today,” Rosie muttered under her breath. She forced a lukewarm smile and directed it toward the man. “Lyle, this is Avery, Evelyn’s niece. Avery, Lyle owns A Goodnight’s Steep, the tea shop across the street.”
Rosie’s words dripped with mockery on the name of Lyle’s shop. Clearly the pair had quite the rivalry going.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lyle raised his chin. “Although I think we met before when you almost ran me and Cleopatra down in the street.”
“Cleopatra?”
“Lyle’s dem— ” Rosie started to explain before stopping herself. “Lyle’s cat.”
Got it.
“Sorry about that.” I looked at the cat, whose gaze was still locked on Mayor Biscuit. “Sorry, Cleopatra.”
I wasn’t going to lie: I felt pretty ridiculous calling a cat Cleopatra, but what else was I supposed to call her?
Lyle sniffed imperiously. “It’s fine.”
He removed the leather portfolio from under his arm and opened it, then handed Rosie a flyer. I caught the headline —Just Say No to Hearthstone— as he passed it over the counter.
“I wanted to extend an invitation to the rally against Hearthstone,” Lyle said.
Rosie looked at it. “This is the same day as my rally!”
Lyle’s nose edged higher. “Is it? I didn’t know.”
Rosie narrowed her eyes. “I gave you a flyer last week.”
“I must have forgotten.”
Forgotten, my apples. Even I could see he was needling Rosie. Then again, she’d probably been needling him when she’d given himherflyer.
“You did this on purpose!” Rosie accused.
Mayor Biscuit growled, his gaze hardened on Cleopatra, still in the stroller.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lyle said.
Cleopatra stood to arch her back.
Rosie pushed Lyle’s flyer across the counter toward him, except the paper slid too far and fluttered to the ground.
“Sorry,” Rosie muttered.
Lyle glared, then bent to retrieve it, and I saw the flyers sliding out of his leather portfolio as if in slow motion.
I opened my mouth to warn him but it was too late. They slid to the floor, fanning out in all directions on the tile.
Which was right about the time all hell broke loose.
15
AVERY
Cleopatra leaptfrom the stroller onto the counter, hitting my waiting cup of iced coffee like a feral wrecking ball.