“Good morning.” Both women jumped and looked at Dominic, who was now beside me.
Sarah’s eyes went wide at the sight of Dominic. “Uh, hi.”
“Are you doing well, Mrs. Humbly?” he asked, his voice like velvet.
She nodded slowly, her brow furrowing slightly. “I guess?”
Margo stepped in the middle of the small circle we’d created and tipped her head back to me. “I need to get to work,” she softly declared. “Do you want anything?”
I glanced at the line. “I’ll wait until the mob is gone.”
She laughed and kissed me on the cheek.
When she was gone, Sarah was still staring at Dominic, but he was studying me.
“That’s nice,” he noted.
“What’s nice?” Sarah asked.
We both turned to look at her. I raised a brow and Dominic said, “Hayes and Margo. It’s nice.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re surprised about that. Carrie and I have been waiting for a year for this to happen.”
I cleared my throat, my head ticking to the side. “Say again?”
She ignored me, focusing entirely on Dominic. I knew he was the prettiest one out of the Red Snake crew, but this was a little excessive. “Now, what are you doing here?” she asked, her tone accusatory.
Fucking hell. My eyes went to my friend. “Did you piss her off or something?”
“No,” Dominic drawled. “Not to my knowledge, at least.”
“You never come here anymore. It’s been over six months since you came in by yourself,” she accused, throwing her hand out, gesturing between us. “And now, you’re here with a big scary bag and a serious look on your face. I don’t like it.”
“Rossy’s already been informed,” I told her. “Everything is under control.”
“Is it?” she challenged him. “Because my friend just came into work, holding your hand, wearing makeup for the first time in over a year after not returning calls or texts for days. She never wears makeup here, only to the Buoy. Margo missing days of work, not answering any of our calls, two bounty hunters, a broken habit, and that duffel scream that something is up.”
“Sarah—”
She lifted her finger at Dominic. “No. You and my husband hit it off. We got used to you coming over every Sunday for the game, and then you just stopped. Then you stopped coming around for our weekly book chats and—and I’m mad at you,” she huffed. “Christ on a sugar plum, you’ve missed the last six book club meetings!”
Sundays for the game?
Weekly book chats?
Book club?
“Sarah,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for not being around. Something came up in my life, and I had to step away to deal with it. I promise I’ll be at the next book club.”
My head jerked toward him, brows snapping together.
What the hell? What came up?
The bookstore manager looked genuinely hurt. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, doctor. It’s rude.”
“I’ll reach out to Michael as well,” he assured. “You have my word.”
“What in the fuck is going on here?” I asked, my eyes bouncing back and forth between them.