Page 73 of Dangerous Men

Sebastian.

He’s been back here every day since the first morning he came in, always arriving less than ten minutes after I flip the closed sign to open and staying until we close for the night. Like clockwork.

At least Jade finds our new high-tipping customer amusing.

“Are you glaring at him again? Come on, Sydney, how can you be upset?” she asks me, leaning against the counter next to me and shaking her head. “Look at him. He’s not bothering anyone. Just think of him like another piece of furniture.”

She smiles at him, almost fondly. “He’s like a plant we never have to water.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. Sebastian doesn’t bother any of the other customers, and he always orders more than enough from the café to justify taking up a table all to himself. Aside from the revolving door of women who spend a little toolong sitting at the tables across from him, trying to catch his eye, he draws very little attention to himself.

“He just…” I struggle to put it into words before finally giving up. Shrugging, I admit, “I just don’t like him.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Syd. I’m surethat’sthe reason.”

Jade saunters away with a knowing smile on her face. I’m not sure why she looks so smug, but even I can’t unlock all of that woman’s mysteries.

I let out a long, deep breath. I have a lengthy list of things that need doing in the bookshop, and I should get started sooner rather than later.

Shooting Sebastian one last suspicious look, I wander back into the bookshop to get started.

Work waits for no woman, and all that.

It’s justover an hour later, and I’m busy at the back register, finishing up with a customer, when I hear the shouting.

“I don’t know why the fuck I even bother coming here!” It’s a man’s voice, raised enough to carry over the store, reaching every corner of our shop. Loud and angry enough to draw attention from several other customers.

I shove a receipt into the book I’m ringing up and pass it to my waiting customer with a quick apology before abandoning my register and racing toward the front of the store.

“At least the Starbucks around the corner can get my fucking order right!” the man bellows.

I break into a jog, heart in my throat and fists already clenching. Jade doesn’t need me to protect her. She’s a grown woman, capable and independent and strong. She doesn’tneedme to protect her.

But I sure as hell will do it, anyway.

When I reach the front of the store, I spot the problem customer immediately. A balding, middle-aged man with a polo shirt stretched too tight over his stomach is waving his hands around, shouting at Jade.

MyJade.

With one glance at her face, I can tell Jade is already close to crying. Her eyes are a little too wet, and her bottom lip is quivering almost imperceptibly. Jade wasn’t built for this sort of confrontation. For all her swagger, for all her confidence and strength, a raised voice is enough to strip her to her core.

“Sir? What’s the problem here?” I ask, managing to make the words sound calm as I approach them. I move behind the café counter, placing myself so I’m standing between the irate customer and Jade.

“This, this…whatever she is…” he starts, waving his hand in Jade’s direction, “doesn’t even know how to make a decent Americano. She keeps telling me there’s nomilkin an Americano.”

“That’s probably because thereisno milk in an Americano,” I explain as diplomatically as possible. I keep my palms flat on the counter between us, scared I might slap the words right out of his mouth. “But we’d be happy to add some if you’d like.”

His face turns red at the indignity of it all, at the unfathomable disrespect of being questioned, and he’s so mad he’s close to shaking.

“No milk in an Americano!” he shouts at me, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. He stares around at the other customers, acan you believe these idiots?expression on his face. He doesn’t seem to notice that none of the looks from them are friendly or sympathetic. They’re uncomfortable, at best. Disgusted with him, at worst. “You’re as stupid as she is!”

I take a deep breath, schooling myselfjust a bit.If it were just me that he was shouting at, I think my breathing exercises and mantras might work. I think I’d be able to calm down enough to talk to him sensibly.

But no one—no one—calls Jade stupid in front of me. No one makes her cry in front of me. And I won’t let that go.

I want him to pay for that.

“You know what? Let’s do this.” I pull out my phone and bring up my search bar, leaning over the counter closer to him, and tapping the search into my phone. He instinctively leans closer, eyes tracking my hands as I type. “Why don’t we Google it together?”