“Oh my god, Jensen.”
“Chew, swallow, then speak.”
Winnie grins over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“This is the best thing that has ever entered my body.”
“I’ll give your regards to our pastry chef.”
“Is she single?” Cody asks around another bite. “I’ll marry her right here.” Winnie laughs again, although I’m fairly certain he’s serious.
A door swings open behind the counter, and Sloane’s friend Avah walks out of the kitchen. She’s wearing an apron dusted with flour, and her blonde hair is up in a messy knot with a pencil stabbed through it. She looks like she’s going to grab that pencil and stab me.
“She’s not,” Winnie tells Cody before switching her gaze to Avah. “Another day, another proposal. It’s a good thing Jeremy’s a secure man.”
Avah smiles as she glances at Cody. I’m guessing she was about to say something kind, but then her gaze catches on me. She wipes her hands on the front of the apron and takes a step forward like she’s entering theWWE SmackDownring.
“No,” she says.
“Good morning to you, too,” I answer with a nod, like being polite will keep her from kicking me in the shin.
“Get out.”
Cody takes a step away from me as if he’s trying to save himself. “Dude, did you piss off my future wife?”
“We’re having breakfast,” I say to Avah, ignoring Cody.
Cody attempts to let his dimples do their thing. “This cinnamon roll just ruined me for all other food.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Avah doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Now you both need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Avah Harris.” Winnie gasps, but she doesn’t sound surprised. “They’re customers.”
Avah snatches my plate off the counter. “Not him. He doesn’t get my pastries.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I argue.
“We both know that’s not true.”
Winnie hands Cody the latte. “I’ll refund the second cinnamon roll,” she offers.
I shake my head. “No need.”
The older woman looks between Avah and me. “Perhaps you’d like to take the rest of your conversation away from the register?” Her voice rises a half octave on the last word.
I can feel a line forming behind us, and nod as Avah hitches a thumb toward an empty table.
“Thank you again,” I tell Winnie. “The coffee is fantastic.”
“I’m not sharing my cinnamon roll,” Cody says as we follow Avah to the table at the far side of the shop. “Not one bite.”
“Noted,” I say. “Maybe you want to eat it outside?”
“And miss whatever this is?” Cody beams at me. “Not a chance.”
“Sit down,” Avah commands, and Cody and I slide into the wrought iron chairs on either side of the table.
She looms over us, arms crossed. “Let me be very clear with you, Jensen Grant. My best friend has spent a year being pokedand poisoned and worrying whether she was going to make it to her next birthday. She’s doing good now, and no one is going to mess that up.”