Page 32 of Catching Trouble

Fifi raised an eyebrow. “Maybe not. But consider, if Sophie was here during the day, you’d spend more time with her.”

More time with her was all I wanted.

“She’s so young. I don’t want her picking up any bad habits from the customers. If Valerie found out…”

Fifi made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Always Valerie.” She growled out the name. “Do you think she consider your feelings in the same way?”

Her words stung, but we both knew the answer.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I won’t encourage it. But I need help, Maxime. Without a barista, I’m stretched. The customers loved what she did. You need to think sometimes before you act. Give Chloe a chance.”

“At what?”

She slowly shook her head. “At being an ally. Not everyone’s out to hurt you”

A breeze filtered through the club, easing the tight set of my jaw. Fifi knew me well. She knew trusting others didn’t come easily to me. Not when everything felt so precarious—like I had something to prove, and too much to lose.

I dragged the back of my hand across my brow. “Fine. I’ll see if she can help you in the mornings. Just until you find someone else.”

Fifi nodded, finally letting go of my arm. “Great.”

“I’ll tell her later.”

“No need,” she said. “I already asked her to start tomorrow. I knew you’d come to your senses.”

Heat burned in my chest. She was out of line, but I was too tired to argue.

I shook my head. “I’m going to go home to change.”

“Fine,” she said with a wave. “But please, come back with a smile.”

I clenched my jaw. Hard.

“Yes, just like that. You’ll delight everyone.”

As I left the club, I couldn’t shake the memory of Sophie’s belly laugh. I hadn’t heard it since she was a toddler—sparked by Chloe’s coffee art. Though I hated to admit it, a twinge of envy crept in.

I hadn’t laughed like that for years, either. I wasn’t that kind of person. Never had been. But there was something about Chloe making me question whether I should start trying.

11

CHLOE

Ikicked off the sheets for the umpteenth time. The annex was like an oven—sweltering. Even my little kitten had made himself scarce after finishing the slices of ham I left him for dinner. He was probably enjoying the sea breeze somewhere under his bush.

With a sigh, I turned over, dropping my feet to the floor. I padded to the bathroom and turned on the tap, running the pulse points of my wrists under the water. I lifted my eyes to the mirror, glaring at my pink cheeks.

Despite my permanently embarrassed look, today had been a good day. I’d completed my first shift at the helm of the coffee machine at Maxime’s club. It was great to be back in the saddle. I chuckled. Sorry Mum, no sensible office job for me. I craved the buzz of people, the balm of laughter. If making coffee gave me that, who was I to “aim higher” on the corporate ladder?

Though the club had been quiet, word had got out about my coffee art. A customer had posted something on social media. As a result, I spent my morning making cartoons of customers and creating sea-themed pictures.

Sophie watched for a while, then hung out with a local girl.They spent most of the morning swimming, and I made them hot chocolates, topped with cocoa powder dolphins riding the foam.

I turned off the tap, immediately regretting my decision. The result was like someone had locked me in a sauna. I had to find some relief. Douse mywholebody, not just my wrists. With a grin, I pulled on my bikini, slipped on a sundress, and stepped into the night, towel in hand.

The garden was quiet and still. Only the steady hum of crickets competed for supremacy with the distant lick of waves. Sophie had long gone to bed. I scanned the lavender fringing the villa. No buzzing. Apparently, the bees were asleep, too.

I still had a healthy dislike of the flowers, but I’d worked out a safe route for daytime trips across the garden. The detour took me the long way around the house. Although it doubled my walk to the annex, I figured the extended trek would burn off any latte overload. Lactose wasn’t always my friend.