Heat rushed to my cheeks as Tanner’s ears turned the slightest shade of pink, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
The worst part of it all was that he didn’t deny it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
Before I could recover, a sharp voice cut across the bakery from the pickup line.
“This is outrageous,” a man in a gray suit snapped, glaring at his watch. He didn’t look like a Cedar Bluff resident, too polished and pressed as if he belonged in a high-rise office. “I’ve beenwaiting eight minutes for a sandwich while others just walk in and get what they want right away. Do you people have any idea how to run a business?”
The warmth in the bakery drained a little, and my chest pinched with that old, familiar panic that came with confrontation. I poured my blood, sweat, and soul into Honey & Hearth, but it would still never be enough for some people.
Before I could defend the bakery or my employees, Tanner turned and approached the man.
“Sir,” he said, voice calm but carrying like a foghorn in a storm. “I know it feels like a long wait, and maybe where you’re from it is. But this is a small-town bakery, where everything is made fresh by hand. I promise it’s worth the extra few minutes if you can bother yourself to remember your manners and treat everyone here with the respect they’re due.”
The man huffed, “I don’t have time to wait, I have a meeting?—”
Tanner didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t puff his chest. He simply met the man’s eyes with a quiet authority that made you want to listen.
“You do, actually.” Tanner said firmly. “Because you came in here. By choice. So, take a breath, enjoy the atmosphere, and trust Goldie’s got it all covered. Or if you’re in that much of a hurry, I can point you in the direction of the gas station on your way out of town. The coffee’s instant. And their food is processed and stale. But there’s no wait at all.”
The man’s jaw worked, and then he glanced around, realizing every eye in the bakery was on him. Finally, with a mutter, he shoved his phone back into his pocket as Sasha, one of my kitchen employees, popped out of the swinging door, whistling an oblivious tune with her earbuds in, and held up a bag.
“Order for Harold.”
The man reached out and grabbed the bag in a huff and left without so much as ahave a nice day.
“He looked like a Harold,” Jasper rolled his eyes, going back to cashing people out as Tanner turned back to me.
My stomach flipped. Not because he scared the man quiet—he hadn’t. Tanner handled him, though. Calm, firm, and steady, as if nothing could ruffle him. The entire room exhaled as warmth crept back in, laughter and conversation bubbling again.
“Thank you,” I whispered, gripping the edge of the counter, watching the man who’d just defended my people and me, without raising his voice. Somehow, he made calm look like the sexiest weapon in the world.
Yeah, that made me feel things. Things I didn’t have time for.
“Anytime, Goldie.” Tanner replied firmly.
“Hey Officer,” Jasper fanned himself dramatically with a sassy look, and I groaned, already preparing for whatever gift he was about to bestow on us all. “Can you de-escalate me like that sometime? Though I usually prefer a more hands-on approach.”
The bakery roared with laughter again, feeding on my best friend’s natural ability to be the center of attention. Tanner’s ears pinked up even more, and he gave Jasper a look that was half exasperated, half amused.
And me?
I was going to go stand in the walk-in cooler until the lunch rush hit.
I pulledup to a call outside Miller’s Hardware for a one-car accident into an electrical pole. The splintered pole lay on the ground with dead wires splayed across the grass. It must have knocked the power out in the hardware store, or maybe things were just slow for a Tuesday, because Old Man Miller and his boys were sitting in the rocking chairs on the front porch, watching the world go by.
I gave them a wave and a tip of my hat as I carried my to-go bag and cup of coffee over to where the other cops on duty were all posted up, leaning on the hood of a squad car. Each of them had paper cups in their hands, with the logo from the gas station on them.
“Brooks,” Officer Shaw waved his cup at me, “Tell me you’ve got enough of whatever is in that bag for all of us. It smells delicious.”
There wasn’t much else for us to do until the power company showed up to replace the pole. Luckily for us, crime was low in Cedar Bluff, and we all could enjoy a brief break.
I held up the bag from Honey & Hearth, with only half of my croissant left inside, and smirked at them. “Not a chance in hell.” I said, grinning. “I don’t share Honey & Hearth.”
They booed in unison, and then Shaw piped back up, “You know, it’s not the sandwich we’re jealous of,” he said, and I groaned. “It’s who made it.”
The others chuckled, and I felt heat creep up the back of my neck.
“Don’t start,” I muttered, taking a slow sip of my coffee.