Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) (10 page)

That wasn’t surprising, Bryar supposed. But she seriously wanted to hunt down and punch anyone who knew and ignored it,
especially
when Gina was a child.

“I get the fraud,” Bryar said. “I mean, sorta—I see wanting money. But did she ever give a reason, even a deranged crazy lady one, for everything she did to you?”

Gina sighed. “Beyond the free slave labor, she was in love with my father for years. Hated my mother. I was always a reminder, I guess, that my father had fallen in love with another woman before Maureen eventually got him.”

Seemed a stupid reason to abuse a kid. Poor Gina. But at least the woman would never see the light of day again.

Brennen stuck his head in the doorway then, his eyes finding Gina’s. “Hey, I’m sorry to have to do this now, but Grandpa’s causing some issues with the PSW—she’s not sure if he’s having some kind of episode or what, but I should get back.”

Gina rose. “I’ll close up—I should go with you.”

“It’s okay—”

“Really, I’d feel better if I did. You know he responds better when I’m there.”

“I’ll stay,” Bryar offered. “I mean, I
can
. Just ring people up for the next couple of hours, right? Close up after?” Her gaze started between them and then settled on Gina. “If I have any problems, I’ll call you.”

Almost immediately she regretted offering—not because she didn’t want to do it, she
did
, but because she felt like she was putting Gina in an awkward position. A new hire, left alone with the cash register and stuff? Of course she wouldn’t want to do it.

“I can leave Mike’s number in case there are any issues with customers,” Brennen suggested, moving to where the phone sat by the counter. He jotted the number down on the note pad. “Mike O’Hara,” he continued. “Good friend, works in private security. I think he’s home this week, but that’s his cell phone. He’ll drop by or send someone else if you have
any
problems, even if people are just making you uncomfortable.”

Gina didn’t argue, instead turning to Bryar with a tired but genuine smile. “I’ll leave you the spare key—you can drop it off tomorrow afternoon. Once you have a stack of twenties, deposit them in the safe in the back—I’ll get it to the bank tomorrow—and don’t leave more than a couple in the register. And feel free to kick people out or close early. You’re in charge, so don’t put up with crap from anyone. I’ll call and check in.”

Holy shit, they were really letting her do it?

Bryar swallowed nervously and nodded, then followed Gina out front and ran through two customers under her supervision before Gina at last left with Brennen.

She was slow at the register and filling the coffee orders, at least for the first half hour, which just left ample time for stares and questions. A few photos were snapped and she considered asking Gina if there could be a temporary “no cell phones” sign put in place for future shifts. She was as pleasant as she could be while avoiding questions, filled orders and suggested people head on their way to make room for the lineup, and the time swiftly flew by.

Dusk fell by six, one of the unfortunate side effects of approaching winter, and the dark made the evening feel even later than it was. She turned the CLOSED sign while there were still customers lined up outside, finished the last few people, and then locked up after them.

Eyes still peered at her through the windows. The shop had blinds that were rarely down, at least that she’d seen, but she figured Gina would understand and swiftly lowered them so no one could see inside. Still, there was no telling how long people would be out there—she’d busy herself for the next half hour tidying up. Leave the place spick and span for Gina, and really show her she made the right decision leaving Bryar in charge.

She wrapped up some of the treats—a few would be sold in the morning, still fresh enough for customers, while others she knew Gina sold as day-old discounts—wiped down the register and counters with antibacterial spray, and then headed to the kitchen. There was the floor to sweep and wash, those counters to clean, and the dishwasher to run—chores which took her nearly half an hour. That left the trash.

Downtown Midsummer closed up early most nights. Plenty of shops were still open after six—often until eight or nine—but this time of year, it seemed most residents were in for the night. The parking lot out back was empty, just two cars behind some of the other buildings.

Yellow-orange light from a pair of streetlamps lit the gravel lot and threw layers of shadows against the building. Bryar shivered against the cold—she’d left her jacket inside, planning to be out there for just minutes anyway—and hefted the heavy bag of trash down the porch steps. The dumpster waited on the other side of the lot and already she was regretting leaving her coat in the bakery. Her steps hurried, or at least as much as possible with the garbage in hand.

It wasn’t just a chill from the fall air, she realized as a shiver crawled her spine. It was the people, all day, hanging around the store. The cameras, the eyes on her. She looked around warily but thankfully didn’t see anyone. Still, she felt eyes on her.

It’s nothing. Get the trash tossed, close up, get home
.

She focused on the task at hand, pausing at the dumpster and working the lid up enough to ease the garbage in. The trash thumped on top of the bags already in there, plastic crackling and a puff of putrid air floating up, and then she let the lid bang down again. The sound startled the stillness, noise making her jump even though she’d caused it.

For a moment, she stood by the dumpster and did a sweep of the lot. Her heart thudded hard, still unable to shake the feeling she was still being watched. Maybe she should just give the shadows the finger—literally. Let them get a view of
that
for Instagram. Or flash them.

No one’s there. You’re just being paranoid.
Bryar shook her head and took a deep breath, heading back for the store. Her steps were quick, though, quicker than they needed to be. She told herself it was just the cold she sought to escape from, even if she knew it was a lie.

Just as she reached the door, she caught the shrill of the phone from the bakery. She rushed inside, screen door banging shut behind her, and ran for the phone. “Gina’s,” she said swiftly as she answered. “Bryar speaking.”

“It’s just me,” Gina said on the other line. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be there by now. How did everything go?” Her voice was friendly but still tight somehow—worried, perhaps. Tense, like maybe Bryar had burned the place down in the meantime. “Any problems?”

“None. Just took the trash out—”

A creak from the direction of the porch drew her attention.

Bryar swung around, her gaze moving from the screen door to the heavier main one she hadn’t closed. Her eyes probed the darkness beyond but couldn’t see anything, just darkness beyond the light of the shop interior.

“Bryar?” Gina prompted.

“Sorry, just thought I heard something.” She gave herself a mental shake and blinked, clearing her head. “No, no problems. Excess cash in the safe, everything’s cleaned up. Customers were fine—closed at six, but there were a bunch of people still lined up.”

“I expect they’ll be gone by the end of the week. I was thinking instead of a shift tomorrow, you could come by on Wednesday for the same time you did today. I ordered some extra supplies when I had a chance tonight and it’ll help if you’re there to receive them?”

Her attention was drawn back to the door as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision. She startled, back striking the counter behind her, and heart leaping to her throat.

Then she recognized the face peering at her through the screen and she let out a heavy breath.

“Same shift on Wednesday, sure,” she said.

“Is everything okay there?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze narrowed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Just a customer who missed the closed sign—I’ll send him on his way.”

“Call Mike if you have any problems. He’ll respond faster than the police.”

“I will.” Bryar hung up and strolled to the other side of the kitchen, pausing at the door and tried—unconvincingly—to look serious. “We’re closed.”

Sawyer offered a small smile. “I saw the light still on.”

She didn’t know him, even if part of her felt like she did after he’d occupied her thoughts so consistently since Friday night. She had no reason to let him in.

But then he had no reason to show up there either, did he?

Bryar eased open the screen door and Sawyer stepped inside. This time she closed both it and the main door, though she left the deadbolt open.

They stood in the kitchen in silence for a moment; Bryar’s arms crossed at her midsection, Sawyer’s hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, both looking everywhere but at one another.

“So,” he began.

She swallowed dryly and bit at her lower lip. “Yeah.”

“You saw the video.”

“And now I know who you are.”

“You didn’t before?”

She looked at him then and found him studying her expression intently, his dark blue eyes serious. “No. That whole thing about me being kind of fringe-ish was completely accurate. I don’t listen to the radio, I’m not really online, and
oh my God,
I just realized something.” Her cheeks were likely flaming red and she couldn’t hide her embarrassment at all. “That was your band on that chick’s iPod, wasn’t it?” She hunched her shoulders and braced, eyebrows squeezing in a wince of dread.

But Sawyer just laughed, not bitterly but genuinely. “Yeah. And it’s okay. It was a single from a few years ago that tanked and it’s not like I wrote it anyway.”

“I still feel like such a dick.”

“There’s two types of honesty—the type that’ll tell you your music sucks because they
want
to be a dick about it, and the type that’ll tell you your music sucks because they just don’t like it. I’m fine with the second.
And
, for the record, pretty used to the first.”

“I’m sure it’s good for...like...the genre?” God, she just wanted to facepalm. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s mediocre for the genre. Manufactured. It’s okay. Anyway.” He eased his hands from his pockets and stood straight again, body language relaxing a little. “I came by because I wanted to apologize. And make sure you were...you know, okay.”

“Small town briefly scandalized. The bakery was busy once people figured out I work here but my boss was okay with it.” She shifted from foot to foot—there was really just the one chair back here, not really a spot to sit, and she wasn’t sure if he was staying. She supposed she could invite him to the front to sit and have a coffee, or would that be too presumptuous? Gina might not like it. “I didn’t tell anyone, you know. About, like, you or anything. Or where you’re staying.”

His brows shot up. “You know where I’m staying?”

Shit
. “Well, not for sure. I guessed. It’s probably the only beach house occupied at this part of the season.”

“So you came by?”

Double shit.
Why did everything coming out of her mouth sound so damn stupid? The heat wasn’t leaving her face and now her neck was itchy. Her gaze skittered away from his and her feet started moving toward the back counter. She’d already wiped them down but she could do it again, finding a cloth by the sink so she could give things another polish. “I was just out for a walk last night. And, well, lights are hard to miss. So I guessed.”

His steps were quiet on the tile behind her and a shiver drifted up her spine, his presence at her back—his eyes on her—weighted and charging the air between them. “Do you...want me to leave?”

“No.” She spun and sucked in a breath of air, finding him just two feet behind her and staring down. Once her eyes hit his, she couldn’t look away again. “I mean, do you
want
to go? If you just came to see if I was weirded out or said anything to anyone, I didn’t and I’m not. I mean, I’m fine.”
And I’m babbling
. “So you can go. If you want. If that’s why you tracked me down.”

“Well, I didn’t have your number. And you didn’t call. So considering I’m standing right in front of you now, the question is definitely whether or not you want me here.”

“I do want you. Here.”
Did I just say that?
Yep, the way he was grinning at her, she definitely did. Her heart was hammering hard, breath coming quickly even though she was just standing there. Warm desire swam through her veins, his mere presence seeming to light her on fire—especially the way he was looking at her now.

He took a step forward and her hands found their way to his waist, fingers locking onto his belt loops and tugging him against her. He cupped her face, tilting her head up, and his lips found hers. The kiss was long and intense, each sweep of his tongue over hers driving her senses wild. Every pore of her skin seemed to tingle with desire, coming to life the moment he touched her.

“So you want me here?” he rasped against her lips and she shivered in response.

Bryar kissed him again. “There and...elsewhere.”

His hand slid down her face, moving firmly across her vulnerable throat, and her pulse beat wildly against the pad of his thumb. Down his hand went, gliding over her shoulder and lower to skim his fingers across her breast. Gentle and feather-light, unlike the last time he’d possessively gripped her and driven her to release, but the touch was just as erotic, had her shivering with anticipation. Lightly his thumb brushed her nipple, which hardened in response.

“And here?” He met her welcoming mouth again with his own and she moaned against his lips. He leaned in, completely trapping her against the counter, and her body yielded to mold to his. His cock was erect, thick and pressing into her, and all she could think about was feeling him inside her at last.

“Everywhere,” she whispered, arching her back and thrusting her breast more fully into his hand.

Sawyer growled and lifted her onto the counter so she was eye level with him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him close. The hardness pressing against her left her with no doubt about what he wanted right then—it was exactly what she did.