Page 35 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
Shouldn’t he watch the road?
The thought came and went, only for her to realize he hadn’t even started the car yet.
“I want to ask you if you’re okay, but you clearly aren’t. And neither is Gavin.”
Her stomach clenched at the mention of his cousin. She flinched, and Quinten’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. “Did something happen between you two?”
“No.” The word escaped too quickly. “Of course not.” Even to her own ears, the words sounded brittle and unconvincing.
“Raisa.” He lowered his voice and infused that one word with enough menace to cut through glass.
Her resolve crumbled under the weight of that tone. “He came into the shop earlier today,” she blurted, her words tumbling over one another. “Corbin was with him, but Gavin… he made these comments. About how I should be sure about what I was telling the police, how I shouldn’t waste their time.” Her throat tightened, and she glanced down at her hands, twisting her purse strap like a lifeline. “I think he hates me.”
Quinten’s brow rose, his expression unreadable as he listened without interrupting. It was like a dam had burst, and she couldn’t stop the flood.
“Back in there, he seemed almost in shock. And his behavior’s been so off since… I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Uh-huh,” Quinten said.
“What do we do?” she asked, her heart thudding heavily.
“There’s nothing we can do right now,” he said after a long pause, drumming his fingers once on the steering wheel. He started the car, the rumble of the engine filling the silence. “I’ll take you home.”
As he pulled onto the road, Raisa glanced sidelong at him, the streetlights played hide and seek with the shadows across his face. Something dark and dangerous flickered in his expression, tightening his jaw and hardening his eyes.
“You’re not going to confront him, are you?” she asked.
“I’d like to,” he admitted, “but I won’t. If he has anything to do with it, I don’t want to alert him.”
Relief washed over her, loosening the knot in her chest, but it came with a dose of apprehension she couldn’t quite shake. The idea of Gavin—smiling, easygoing Gavin—being connected to something so sinister didn’t sit right with her. Yet the uncertainty lingered, like a shadow stretching long and far in the back of her mind.
Quinten briefly lifted his hand from the wheel to rest it on her knee, which comforted her in a way she desperately needed.
Chapter Twenty
After a restless night filled with vivid, haunting dreams, Raisa had to struggle to keep her eyes open by mid-afternoon. The dreams had started innocently enough, with Quinten’s touch lingering on her skin, their bodies entwined in a way that made her wake panting and wet. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The second half of the night carried darker visions as she tossed and turned. The grainy footage of the woman stepping from the car replayed in her mind, but this time, the face looking back at her wasn’t Vanessa’s but Gavin’s. She had startled awake, her pulse racing, only to fall back into another nightmare. This time, it was Corbin’s face on the screen. Each dream had been too vivid, the faces so real they clung to her like cobwebs even after waking. She had given up on sleep entirely. Instead, she had dragged herself to the shop in the pre-dawn hours and dived into a baking frenzy to drown out her lingering unease.
Raisa stood behind the counter and suppressed a yawn, as the comforting hum of conversations, clatter of cutlery, the hissing coffee machine, and soft music filled the shop. Business was steady for a Tuesday, with a handful of customers browsing the shelves or enjoying their coffee and pastries at tables nearthe window. She glanced at the clock. Only an hour left until closing time.
Movement at the door signaled incoming customers, and she straightened reflexively. Her heart sank when Beth and Devaney swept into the shop. As usual, Beth led the way, her blond curls bouncing as she sauntered to the counter. Devaney trailed behind her, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a raven’s wing, her perfectly arched brows raised as if she were too good to be here. Raisa forced a polite smile.
“Well, well, there are even some customers in here.” Beth’s voice dripped with condescension. “Must be a relief for you to make some money, huh?”
Raisa swallowed the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, plastered on a polite smile, and instead asked in a neutral tone, “What can I get you?”
Beth smirked, leaning against the counter. “I’ll take a vanilla latte. Extra foam.”
“Coming right up.” Raisa reached for a large mug.
Despite the irritation prickling under her skin, she poured all her love for coffeemaking into the beverage.
“I’ll have the same,” Devaney said.
Raisa blinked, caught off guard. Devaney rarely ordered anything, likely because she assumed Raisa would spit in it. The thought brought a flicker of amusement. She half turned to hide her smirk, but it was soon extinguished by the unsettling sway of Devaney’s hips as she moved toward a vacant table. Like all the cheerleaders, she walked with deliberate, practiced grace. The click of her heels against the wooden floor was unusually loud.
Raisa’s gaze dropped to Devaney’s feet. Normally, she didn’t wear heels, Raisa knew that much. With her taller-than-average frame and large feet, Devaney rarely drew attention to them. She preferred sneakers, like the red, white, and black Nike Air Jordans with the distinctive pattern. Steadying herself with ahand braced on the edge of the countertop, her mind raced. Could it really be Devaney? The possibility made her stomach churn. She glanced back at the table where Devaney now sat, looking around the shop with disdain written all over her face, like a queen who was visiting a peasant living in a trailer.
Her heart pounded, her mind screaming at her to not act rashly. This was more than a coincidence. The heels, the order, the way Devaney swanned into the shop like she owned the place—everything.
