Page 18 of Dark Endures

The bakery is decorated in a blend of shabby chic and bold colors. Instead of the pink and black colors feeling feminine, they’re bold and powerful. How can a bakery feel powerful?

On Willow Street, anything seems possible.

Dahlia waves to me from a table in the back by a window. Right outside of the window is yet another graffiti mural. I should sit facing inside, or I won’t be able to focus on anything else. But I don’t.

It takes all of two seconds for her smile to hit me. “What happened to you? Did you win the lottery or something?”

“Better. Way better than that.”

What could be better than winning the lottery? A whole week of doing absolutely nothing? Nah, the lottery would still be better. I could pay off Waylon’s debt and quit two of my jobs. The question is which ones? “So?”

“We should wait until Fiona and Daria are here.” Dahlia is practically bursting with excitement. She might explode before they get here.

“Did someone say my name?” Fiona sets down menus at our table. “What can I get you to drink?”

Water! But if I order water, I have to order a sandwich or pastry, and those have to be more expensive than a small black coffee.

“I’ll take a water.” Dahlia opens the door for me to do the same.

It’s too tempting to save money. “Water too, please.” Maybe I can find a cookie or something small to order on the menu.

Oh… They have a slice of focaccia for a dollar. Perfect.

“Be right back with them and some snacks.” Fiona rushes off, leaving us staring after her.

This place suits her. She flits from table to table with a smile and a friendly word to everyone. “I couldn’t smile that long if I tried.” At least not a genuine smile, which she always seems to have.

Dahlia grins. “Me either. I’d make it like fifteen minutes. Then I’d glare at everyone because I was tired of peopling. Our job is so much better. We don’t have to pretend to be happy. That and helping people are the best parts of the job.”

The adrenaline rush without any danger to myself isn’t bad either. “You’re a natural at it.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure that I’d be any good at it. But I don’t know how long I’ll keep the job.” Dahlia glances out the window to where her husband is standing, chatting with Maddox. “We’re talking about having kids soon.”

What? “Already?”

Her smile softens. “Yeah.”

“Maverick is already overprotective.” That’s a bit of an understatement, considering he follows her everywhere but work. “Can you imagine how he’s going to be with his kid?” I peek over at the terrifying man. What could he possibly be talking to Maddox about?

Maddox in a metal tee and jeans is a whole other thing. If his hair was mussed and he had more leather on him, he could be a rocker hiding from his groupies in this small town.

“Oh yeah. But he’ll be an amazing dad.”

I pity the boy who tries to date his daughter and hope they find the body when Maverick is done with it.

“Who will be an amazing dad?” Fiona sets down two waters and a cup of froth-covered coffee next to a three-tiered tray of pastries and sandwiches.

“Dahlia. She’s talking about having kids with Maverick.” Relationships that progress this fast never go well.

“Whoa. Weren’t you two going to get married first?” Fiona’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you guys about. Is Daria coming soon?” Dahlia picks up a giant chocolate chip cookie.

“No. Daria just messaged that she’s in the zone with this book and can’t walk away. Which, as you know, means that she won’t do anything but write today. I’m going to have to stand over her and threaten her to eat dinner.” Fiona’s fierce look is anything but.

“Being in the zone rocks.”

Dahlia is so sincere but a bit out of touch with modern slang that I hold back the laughter bubbling up inside of me. Though keeping up with it has been a challenge since I graduated almost a decade ago.

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