Page 25 of Loverboy
This job is repetitive as hell. I’d better find that murderer quick.
* * *
The day is finally drawing to a close by the time Posy finally emerges from the back. And I do a little double take when I notice her red eyes and new makeup job. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I echo, rinsing out the milk jug. “It’s closing time, right?” The last customer left a few minutes ago.
“Right.” She clears her throat. “Thank you, Gunn. For…” she makes a vague gesture with her hands toward the door. “If Spalding shows his face again, I’m generally not available.”
“Got it,” I agree. “Spalding. I’d forgotten your ex-boyfriend’s name.”
“Ex-husband,” she says ruefully.
“Oh. Sorry.” Yikes. “Was it, uh, a recent breakup?”
“Almost a year now,” she says, lifting her chin. “And I’m fine with it. But I don’t know why they have to keep coming in here.”
“Well, Posy. The coffee is top notch. And it just got a little better.” I pat myself on the chest.
She rolls her eyes. “I guess your ego hasn’t faded in the last fifteen years.”
“Nah. If anything, it’s gotten bigger. I mean—if you were me, wouldn’t you have a big ego?” I wave in the direction of my tight Posy’s Pie Shop T-shirt and give her a cheesy grin. It’s supposed to be a joke. After all, Posy thinks I’m a barely employed thirty-five year-old barista.
“Maybe I would,” she says, blushing.
Huh. I think Posy remembers our big kiss, too.
“Anyway, feel free to let the quality slip if he asks you for coffee. I don’t want him in my life.”
“It would be against the barista oath to pour an inferior shot,” I say sanctimoniously. “But I could be hopelessly rude. That’s not against code. And I could definitely spell his name wrong on the cup. I thinkSmallthinghas a nice ring to it.”
“Omigod.” Posy lets out a bark of laughter. “I dare you.”
“Consider it done.” We’re smiling at each other, and I’m startled to realize that I’m flirting with Posy Paxton again. I guess old habits are hard to break. “I’m happy to offend the man with the shiniest penny loafers in Manhattan. Although we might lose his wife’s business. She’s worth a few hundred bucks of peppermint syrup alone.”
“I wish they’d both lose my address.” Posy’s smile fades. “You know who misses Spalding, though?”
“The Gucci store?” I try.
“My father,” Posy grumbles. “He’s a big fan. He says that losing Spalding was my greatest failure. As if there’s a long string of those to choose from. I graduated magna cum laude from Columbia, but all my father sees is a failed marriage.”
“Ouch.” Posy’s dad is a giant tool, and I could never understand why she worked so hard to please him. Still, I can’t resist teasing her. “Magna cum laude, huh? I graduated summa.”
“You did?” she scowls. “Of course you did.”
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you.” I snap the towel close to her hip and then laugh. “But you totally believed me. And it bothered you, didn’t it? Admit it.”
“It did.” She puts her hands up to her face and shakes her head. “Just ignore me. This is what a midlife crisis looks like—a divorce, a career change, and a kitschy pie shop.”
Her vulnerability surprises me. And I glance around the pie shop, looking at it with fresh eyes. It’s a beautiful space, with golden lighting, warm wood floors, and creamy white wainscoting that gives off farmhouse vibes. There’s a shelf that runs all the way across the far wall, and it’s decorated with a collection of pristine ceramic farm animals. And each wooden table has a pair of chairs in matching colors.
It’s like I’m standing inside Posy’s chipper, ambitious mind. “I like it,” I say slowly. “And as for midlife crises, I’ve seen worse. My uncle Pat bought a vintage Camaro and grew some scary sideburns and an unfortunate mustache.”
“Thank God it hasn’t come to that.” Posy turns toward the kitchen door. “Hey Jerry! It’s time for your big moment.”
“Awesome!” comes a shout from the back. A moment later, the special needs kid who washes dishes comes flying out. He rushes over to the door and flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. “Done!”
“Good work,” she says. “You can take off your apron and go home, okay?”
