Page 26 of Living Hell

EIGHT

Tyler

“ARE YOU SERIOUS—” IONAsaid before I reached over and covered her mouth with my hand.

“Wonderful.” I felt bad I had to pin back Olivia in order to shut Iona up before she ruined this for me. “I guess this is goodbye, Babette. It’s been nice almost getting to know you.” I began to scoot out of the booth after removing my hand from Iona’s mouth.

“Just a minute. You haven’t heard my conditions yet. Why don’t you order something and we can discuss this over lunch?”

I froze. I may not know this woman, but I had a good idea she was smart. And intelligent people don’t just plop loads of money on a property one day and give it away for free two days later.

I eased back and stared into Babette’s gray eyes. “What, exactly, are your conditions?” Debbie picked that moment to sidle up next to me. “Hey, Tyler, want your usual?”

She slid a cup of coffee across the table to Babette. Nodding to the waitress, she lifted the coffee to her lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Really? You not feeling well, darling?”

I kept my eyes on Babette. “Yeah, something like that.” “And for you, Olivia?”

“Hot chocolate, bacon, and a salad. Thank you, Debbie.”

“Your apple fritters will be right up.” Debbie winked at Iona.

Silence stretched across our table once Debbie left. It was the kind of quiet that set my nerves ablaze. When I woke this morning, for a fraction of a second, I was happy. Memories of buying the house had me giddy, but then I remembered that Iona was in the guest bedroom. She had tried to claim the master, but that wasn’t going to happen.

The movers never showed yesterday and that added the cherry to the dumpster fire sundae that was my current state of being. I called the moving company and the two guys they sent had disappeared.

“What a pleasant homecoming.” Iona didn’t bother to keep the sarcastic tone from her lips.

“Oh, you’re from here? I had no idea. I moved here this year. I’m originally from Washington, DC.” Olivia smiled and did her best to break the tension. She was probably used to awkward silence since she was dating the grumpiest man to ever live—the sheep farmer, Carter Fitzwilliam.

Babette turned her focus to Olivia. “How is your father since his heart attack?”

“How did you know my father had a heart attack?”

“Babette is my agent. The woman knows everyone.”

“That’s not true, I.D., I’m not that familiar with the guy over there.” Babette lifted her hand and pointed to the guy sitting at the counter.

“I am. That’s the guy who makes the coffee,” I added.

“Well, I should go over and thank him. This is the best cup of coffee I have ever tasted outside of Morocco.” Her gray eyes slid back to me, sending another upsetting chill down my back.

“He didn’t pour the coffee, he makes the coffee. Micaden is part owner of Fire Lake Coffee. A locally owned coffee company.”

“Is that him? I’d never met him or his sister before. When Bea comes to visit next time, I’ll have to introduce her. She can’t get enough of that coffee,” Olivia said.

“Uh, that’d be a waste of time. He doesn’t speak to anyone, except for Debbie and his sister, Chloe.”

“I got Carter to be more social, I’m sure I can get him to—”

I put my hand on Olivia’s shoulder to stop her. “Carter is like a social butterfly compared to Micaden. You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be happy with the results.”

“Speaking of being happy with results . . . I think you will be quite pleased with my idea for giving you my home.”

“My home. And I wasn’t talking about being pleased with the results; I was saying she wouldn’t . . . oh never mind. What are your conditions?”

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