Page 122 of Twisted Violet
“Should we be concerned,” I whisper to Niko. “I swear I saw him wiped it down tenminutes ago.”
Niko smirks and slides another tray of crème brûlée donuts onto the baker’s rack. He’s wearing black, of course, like this is a funeral and not the most exciting day of my life. But he scorched the tops of those donuts himself and I saw the way his mouth twitched when I said they looked perfect.
Even if he won’t admit it, he’s proud.
I am too.
Ollie trots across the tile, tail wagging like he owns the place. He’s got a “Head of Security” bandana around his neck. He stops at a table with two older ladies and flops dramatically at their feet, earning immediate coos and crumbs.
Sugar & Snout is a dog-friendly cafe. That was nonnegotiable. I even put up a little sign at the front that says,Well-behaved dogs welcome. Humans too, I guess.
Rome called it excessive. Dallas called it brilliant. Niko just smirked and said Ollie’s the one who brings in most of the business, anyway.
***
Two hours into our grand opening, the bell above the door jingles, and chaos walks in.
Stevie and her guys: Atlas, Ezra, Tristan, and Cyrus, make a beeline for the front counter like they’ve been fasting for weeks.
Cyrus stops dead in front of the display case, eyes locked on the full line of ham and Gruyère croissants.
I swear I see him tear up.
“It looks great, baby sis,” Stevie says, her eyes sweeping across the café, slow and proud. “You really freaking did it.”
I swallow, still not used to hearing things like that.
“Thanks. It still scares me, you know? Having somethinggood. I keep thinking I’m going to mess it all up,” I admit quietly.
“You won’t.” She leans across the counter and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You were made for this.”
My throat tightens, and I nod.
Behind her, Ezra is already reaching over a stranger’s shoulder to steal a tart off their plate.
“S… seriously?” Tristan swats his hand away with a scowl.
Cyrus lets out a wheezing laugh. Atlas just sighs like he’s accepted this is his life now.
“Sorry,” Stevie says with a groan, massaging her temples. “They’re animals.”
She turns back to me. “Could we just get one of everything?”
I laugh and reach for a pastry box, the warmth settling back into my chest as I load it up for them.
“Do you ever get used to wrangling that many guys all at once?” I ask, sliding her the filled box.
“No,” she deadpans, shaking her head. “Not at all. But at the same time… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I glance across the café at my own little family.
Dallas is now behind the register, telling a customer their coffee comes with a smile, then flashing his dimples like it’s a legally binding promise.
Rome is refolding napkins that are already perfectly aligned, muttering under his breath like they’re refusing to fall in line.
Niko is leaning against the back wall, sipping his coffee and pretending like he’s not sneaking treats to the golden retriever puppy waiting at his feet.
And right in the middle of it all, Ollie ishopping up onto a chair with his snout creeping toward an unattended croissant like he wasn’t just fed twenty minutes ago.
