Page 31 of Untethered Heart
“Perhaps I’ll just tell Grams about the interesting little display I just witnessed.” I shrug. The doors open, and I stalk with satisfaction to my Lamborghini. For two days after I dropped Lex home, it smelled like coconuts. I won’t admit I took a pointless day trip up the coast and back the next day just so I could sit in it. Then I sat at family dinner that evening like I wasn’t a pathetic, lovesick fool.
“Fine. I’ll just tell her about your redhead.”
I stand on one side of the car, speaking to Gage over the roof. “You already did that, you bastard.”
“There are more details I could share.” He points a finger over at me. “Just what did you do on my dancefloor?”
Heat explodes on my cheeks as I open the door and slide into the car. I push the start button as Gage slowly lowers himself into the passenger seat. I can feel his stare on the side of my face.
We sit in silence for the start of the ride until Gage notices I make a slight detour. “Where are we going?”
“I just want to get a coffee.” I try to sound as casual as possible. It’s not like he should suspect anything.
“Isn’t there a coffee shop around the corner from where we’re already going?”
I think for a minute. “An associate told me about a bakery around here I should try.” Fuck, I hope it’s half decent or this cover will quickly turn to shit.
We manage to get street parking right outside the pastel blue storefront of Sweet Escape. When I step out of the car, I’m looking straight at Parlour Tricks Beauty. Huge windows and double glass doors take up most of the candy pink facade. I can see a few guys inside milling about. But no Claire.
“Why does this street look like a rainbow threw up on it?”
When I look at my brother standing on the sidewalk, dressed in all black and a scowl to match, I want to laugh.
“Why are you such a grump? Find something fun to do, would you, or someone.” I pass him in a blur, with a hand on the antique handles. I stop just before I walk into the cool air of the bakery. “But not Isabelle.”
A wall has more emotional depth than my brother sometimes, and Isabelle is far too soft and sensitive.
It feels at least twenty degrees cooler inside the bakery, and it smells like actual heaven. My Siren, excluded.
“Hi there! What can I get you?” A woman with a long, curly braid hanging over her shoulder smiles up at us.
“Hello, could I get a hazelnut macchiato and”—I look through the glass display at all the pastries. They look incredible. There’s everything from macarons and eclairs to tarts and beignets—“a cherry coconut cannoli.” I turn to Gage. “You want anything?”
“Dirty chai latte and an orange sugar doughnut.”
I stare at him. “You’re a very complex man.”
A chuckle sounds from behind the counter. The woman pops her head up from the counter with our sweets. “Was it just those?”
“We’d better bring something for the others,” says Gage, still looking in the display case.
“Can we get a pumpkin spice cannoli?” I ask.
“Make it two and two of the espresso cream doughnuts, as well. Actually, can we just get two of everything?”
“And one maple cinnamon doughnut in a separate bag, please,” I add while side eyeing my brother. “Isabelle loves cinnamon.”
“She does?”
I had a feeling he’d take the bait. I turn my head, letting my brother see that I’m on to him.
I pull out my phone, opening the sibling group chat.
ME:
The score is now me and Beth against Gage in the stance that he’s talking SHIT when it comes to nothing happened with Isabelle.
I see him pull his phone out of his pocket with his usual frown, and I dart forward to grab the pastry box off the bench. When he looks up at me, I thrust the box into his hands, so he can’t use them for anything else.
