Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Kati

My first full day off after coming off a night shift was normally when I would get a whole list of things done. My routine was flawless.

Drive home from work, take Lucien to school, then sleep all day until he came home. We would go out to eat that night because obviously sleeping all day meant I didn't have time to make dinner and be back to bed by ten p.m. so the next morning I was refreshed enough to get shit done.

Except that didn't happen yesterday. Clearly my sleep was interrupted because I was the idiot who forgot to set an alarm. Dinner was a disaster, and I barely ate after Easton walked in. Not that I can blame it on him, since he looked to be on the receiving end of the same small-town shenanigans as me.

Either way, I had barely picked at my club sandwich and then last night I’d tossed and turned so much that by the time I finally fell into a fitful sleep, it was time to wake up again.

So instead of starting my day with a pep in my step after dropping Lucien at school, I was dragging my ass and resenting all the chores I had to do. One of them being the call to Willow Creek Security that I needed to make.

As I stopped at a red light, I dropped my head back onto the headrest and groaned. Why did I have to be the worst at first impressions?

Seriously, the worst. The number of times I've embarrassed myself when meeting someone new was starting to get ridiculous. There had to be some Guinness Book of World Records that I've surely met at this point. If not, then I was close.

The sound of a horn blaring from somewhere behind me pulled me from my pity party. Of course, the light would have the nerve to turn green while I was in the middle of a mini meltdown. That's just how my morning was going. It didn't matter that the timer for the light was the same every day, all day. Just once couldn't it be a smidge longer, for my benefit?

I looked at the buildings along Main Street and decided at the last minute that this morning called for something a little extra. I was just pulling in front of Wickedly Delicious when my phone rang.

I didn't even need to look at the screen to know who it was.

"Morning." It was the same greeting I gave Lyla every day when she called around the same time. Some might consider our co-dependency unhealthy. Those people could pound sand.

"Did you sleep well enough last night that you're going to stop being dramatic this morning?"

Okay, so maybe having a best friend who called me out on my shit wasn't great some days. Today would be one of them.

"If you must know," I sassed back. "I slept like shit, but thanks for asking."

Lyla's laughter filtered through the speaker of my car and only further pissed me off. "Being a drama queen doesn't suit you. Last time I checked, those were the kind of girls we used to laugh at in high school."

I pulled into a parking spot and dropped my head back onto the headrest for the second time that morning. Lyla was right. I wasn't a drama queen. In fact, I was the opposite. I rolled with the punches life threw at me.

"I blame it on the lack of sleep."

"Now that, I can believe. Lucien isn't the only Whitlock who hates mornings and needs his beauty rest."

I joined Lyla in her laughter. It was crazy how one conversation with my best friend could change my mood so quickly.

"People who survive off less than five hours of sleep are evil."

"I've never once argued that I'm not," Lyla quipped.

It was our running joke because if there was anyone who was the opposite of evil, it was Lyla. She was one of the nicest people in the world. She would give the shirt off her back to her enemy and think nothing of it. The number of times Lyla had gone out of her way to help someone, me included, was astronomical.

"So are you going to suck it up and stop at the security place this morning or what? Do I need to leave my studio and drag you down there?"

I huffed out a sigh. "Dragging isn't necessary. I'm actually on Main Street now. I'm going to grab breakfast at the bakery and then head over."

"Oooooh, is it a crumb cake kinda morning? I would kill for some of Maisie's crumb cake right about now."

Who wouldn't? It was that damn good. I remember when Maisie moved into town and declared she was taking over the old bakery. With her jet-black hair and all-black clothing, Maisie Connor was nothing like the old bakery owner.

Willow Creek was used to pink and bubbly. Everything about the old bakery reminded me of a fifties bakery with pinks and teals. There wasn't a single part of the place that didn't scream girly.

But Maisie was different. She was a Halloween-loving woman who took uniqueness to a whole new level. But damn did she make the best desserts I have ever had.

"Kat!" Lyla's loud bark pulled me from my musings. "Did I lose you?"

"Sorry, I was daydreaming about Maisie's baked goods."

"You know, if you were a guy, I would comment how inappropriate that sounds . . ."

I rolled my eyes. For someone who was so nice and sweet most of the time, Lyla had a dirty mind.

"I'm done talking to you. I need food and coffee before I can handle any more of your ridiculousness."

I hung up the phone as Lyla continued to laugh. My best friend was a damn menace.

A deep calm washed over me as I walked into Wickedly Delicious and inhaled the aroma of sugar and fresh-pressed coffee beans. One of the main reasons I loved the coffee in this place so much was because, while the baked goods were as modern as they came, the coffee was straight up old-fashioned. Several French presses lined the one wall.

The line at the counter was seven people deep but not a single person looked to be in a hurry. It was one of the things Maisie made abundantly clear from the day she opened the shop. She wouldn't tolerate impatience or rudeness toward her employees. I had watched at least one person learn that lesson the hard way. To this day, Max Jr. was still banned from entering.

Maisie herself was serving customers by the time it was my turn to order.

"Those bags under your eyes tell me it's a ‘double crumb cake and extra-large coffee’ kind of day."

Leave it to Maisie to be brutally honest. The barely five-foot woman wore her usual black pants, black shirt, hair tied back with a bandana, and an array of colorful tattoos up and down her arms. But it was the laugh lines around her eyes that gave away the playfulness most people didn't understand, or bother to look for, when making an assumption about the woman.

"You would be correct. I don't even have the energy to contradict your assessment of my morning."

"Did the hunky security guy keep you up all night?" Maisie leaned on the glass counter and wiggled her eyebrows. "I hear the lot of them are nice to look at."

Damn small-town living. I plopped my elbow down on the glass and dropped my chin into my palm with a sigh. "Is there anyone in town who didn't hear about my day yesterday?"

Maisie snorted. "Oh, please. You and I both know everyone knows about you answering the door in barely any clothes, plus, the awkwardness over at The Crazy Fox. But those bags tell another story. Did he come to visit?"

I shook my head. "These bags are from worrying about how I'm going to face the man after yesterday."

"That's a shame. At least they would've been worth it if you got some action."

Since when had my sex life become such a topic of discussion? First Lucien and now Maisie. Lyla I expected it from because those were the kind of things friends discussed, but it was none of anyone else's business.

"Thanks," I deadpanned.

"Sorry, that came out wrong." Maisie pushed off the glass and reached down to pull out the pieces of crumb cake. "Sometimes I forget that it's not okay to say what pops into my head."

I closed my eyes and rubbed the spot between my eyebrows. "No, it's okay. I get cranky when I don't get enough sleep. Add in the fact that I'm hungry and haven't had my caffeine fix yet and I'm a bit of a bear."

Since moving into town a few years ago, Maisie and I had become friendly. I wouldn't say “friends” in the sense that we hung out, but certainly friendly. She was someone I enjoyed talking to when I came in several times a week, and there were even times, when it wasn't busy, that she would join me at a table.

"Well, hopefully this cheers you up."

I paid for my stuff and shuffled over to one of the few open tables. The dark decor should have made the place feel like a dungeon or even gloomy, but somehow the natural light from the large windows made the place feel cozy.

I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with the rest of the patrons. After the diner situation last night, I didn't want anyone else commenting on my wardrobe choices. With any luck, someone else would do something outrageous and the Willow Creek residents would have something else to discuss.

Luck seemed to be in my favor when I managed to finish my breakfast without anyone approaching me. With a full belly and caffeine pumping through my veins, I felt better about what I needed to do.

The Willow Creek Security building was only ten storefronts down from the bakery, so I used the nice morning weather to walk along the sidewalk. A few people milled about, but a vast majority were either grabbing something quick at the bakery or sitting down for a full breakfast at the diner. The same as every other morning.

The familiarity of small-town living was comforting. There had been a time as a teenager when I considered moving to a big city. Thank God I never followed through with that. I couldn't imagine the hustle and bustle that came with it, or the constant change. Like plants needed water to survive, I needed familiar things.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the new security building. A lot had changed from the old tailor business that had once resided there. A fresh coat of paint covered the brick. What looked to be both new windows and doors gleamed back at me. And a fresh sign hung just out front.

Overall, the place was welcoming despite the nerves fluttering in my belly.

I knew my apprehension had nothing to do with the building itself and everything to do with the possibility of who waited just inside the door for me.

Since I had no desire to give the folks in town any more reason to gossip, I pulled the door open and walked in.

The inside of the security firm was a bit of a surprise. I expected a sterile feel but there was nothing dull about the spacious layout. The reception area consisted of a desk, two loveseat sofas, a round end table between them, and even a plant in the corner. A large rug and some art on the wall gave a welcoming vibe.

But the most surprising aspect was that the only thing separating the reception area from the rest of the work area was all glass. The interior was one giant fishbowl; anyone who walked in could see what was happening.

It was probably a good thing too, since no one sat at the reception desk and there was no bell to warn those in the back that anyone had entered the building. At least, not that I could hear, but within seconds of walking through the door, someone was making their way to the front.

"Good morning." The guy gave me a smile and, oh wow, did he have a nice one. A hidden dimple amongst his beard nearly disarmed me. "Are you here for the receptionist interview?"

Then his words sunk in. What was with these guys and assuming I was looking for a job? Were they that desperate to hire someone, or did they assume any female who contacted them was a potential employee?

"Owen, don't be a dick. This is the client Easton met with yesterday." A second man walked through the door and chided Owen before I could answer. I recognized him from the diner last night. He had been eating with Easton.

"I'm so sorry," Owen apologized. "We were supposed to have someone come in for an interview this morning, but they’re running late. I'm starting to get worried something happened to her."

There was no way to stay mad at a man who looked that guilty and who worried about a woman he’d never met.

"Is she someone local? Maybe I know her."

"Uh, I don't think so." Owen looked genuinely confused. "I think she mentioned she was moving to the area and wanted to have a job lined up. I'm embarrassed to admit I didn't get a lot of information. I was just excited someone applied to the job at all. Mav's been looking for a while and this was our first serious inquiry."

Mav had to be Maverick O'Brien, the owner according to Willow Creek Press. His picture was in the newspaper but I had yet to see him around town.

"Well, I hope she's okay."

"Me too." Owen shook his head. "Sorry, our receptionist issues aren't your concern. Hendrix mentioned you met with Easton yesterday. The mailbox problem, right?" When I nodded my head yes, he continued. "Los Cangris. A nasty gang and I see why you called us. No one wants them operating here in town. Come on back and let's discuss your options."

Okay, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. I could talk to Owen and avoid the weird encounter with Easton.

With a little extra pep in my step, I walked through the large glass door but quickly realized my error. The glass only showed part of the building, instead of the full place like I thought, and sitting there just twenty feet in front of me was none other than Easton himself.

Ah, shit. So much for feeling confident.