Page 24

chapter

sixteen

Nessie didn’t receive many requests to rent out the bakery’s dining space after hours, but occasionally, someone would ask, and she always accepted. It meant an extremely long workday, followed by a night of very little sleep, but she just couldn’t afford to turn down the extra money.

Oliver was upstairs with Tate and Mariah, who had offered to watch him while Nessie hosted the paint-and-sip bachelorette party.

The future bride was pregnant, so the sips had to be caffeine-free, which had been a fun challenge to create.

She’d also made dick shaped cookies, because, duh, what else did you eat at a bachelorette party?

It’d been fun, and made her nostalgic about her days as a waitress, when she was part of a sisterhood of other twenty-somethings whose biggest worries were hangovers and whether they’d have enough money for rent.

Before Oliver. Before Alek. Before everything fell apart, she had to rebuild herself from scratch.

The last of the women had left twenty minutes ago, giggling and clutching their masterpieces—abstract paintings that looked more like colorful vomit than art, but they’d been proud of them.

Nessie had collected the empty cups and plates, wiped down the tables, and was now stacking chairs, her back aching from being on her feet for nearly twenty hours straight.

She should have been exhausted. Was exhausted. But something kept her moving, kept her from heading upstairs to collapse into bed. Maybe it was the lingering energy from the party, or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t heard from Jax in two days.

Two days.

It shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t care. But their nightly phone calls had become such a constant in her life that their absence felt like a missing tooth, something she kept poking at with her tongue, unable to ignore the empty space.

She’d never had a friendship quite like this one, built on late-night phone calls and shared vulnerabilities, on the kind of honesty that only seemed possible in the dark.

She’d told him things she’d never told anyone, about the loneliness of single motherhood, about the fear that sometimes kept her awake at night.

And he’d shared pieces of himself too, carefully measured fragments about his time overseas, about the puppy that had saved his sanity in prison, about the guilt that ate at him like acid.

But now, silence.

She grabbed another chair, flipping it onto the table with more force than necessary. The crash echoed through the empty bakery, and she winced, glancing toward the ceiling where Oliver was hopefully asleep.

Maybe Jax was busy. Maybe Walker had him working longer hours. Maybe the sheriff had finally made his move and?—

No. She couldn’t think like that. If something had happened to him, she would have heard about it. Solace was too small for secrets, especially ones involving the Ridge.

The bakery felt different at night, bigger somehow, with shadows pooling in the corners and the familiar daytime sounds replaced by the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old building settling.

She’d grown used to the nighttime quiet, but tonight it felt heavier, more oppressive.

Through the front windows, she could see the empty street, the darkened storefronts, the distant glow of the Rusty Spur at the edge of town.

Normal. Quiet. Safe.

But as she checked the deadbolt lock, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She froze and scanned the street through the window again.

Nothing. Just shadows and streetlights and the occasional car passing on Main Street.

Shaking her head at her paranoia, she finished locking up and headed for the kitchen and the stairs that led to her apartment.

But with each step, the sensation intensified—eyes boring into her back, watching, waiting.

She quickened her pace, heart pounding as she double-checked that the back door was locked.

It was. She leaned against the prep counter, breathing hard, telling herself not to have a panic attack.

This wasn’t her imagination. This wasn’t paranoia. Someone had been watching her. She was sure of it.

Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed Jax’s number.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding cautious, uncertain.

“Jax.” His name came out in a breathless rush. “I think someone’s out there.”

The change in his tone was immediate. “Where are you?”

“Home. I just locked up the bakery and—” She broke off, moving to the window to peer out at the empty street. “I swear someone was watching me.”

“Are you alone?”

“No, Mariah and Tate are upstairs with Oliver.”

“Good. Stay inside. Lock everything. I’m on my way.”

“Jax, you don’t have to?—”

“Twenty minutes.” The line went dead.

True to his word, exactly nineteen minutes later, there was a soft knock at her door. She peered through the peephole to see Jax standing on her doorstep, looking grim and alert. Beside him, to her surprise, was X and Ghost.

She unlocked the door with trembling fingers. “That was fast.”

“X drove,” Jax said by way of explanation and stepped inside.

“Took ten years off my life,” Ghost muttered.

“Only ten?” X flashed a smile that was only half the wattage of his usual and scanned the kitchen. “Must be losing my touch.”

Nessie locked the door behind them, her fingers fumbling with the deadbolt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. It’s probably nothing.”

“I’m glad you called.” Jax’s eyes swept over her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She looked between the three men, embarrassed now that they were here. “Just spooked.”

“It’s not nothing if it scared you,” Jax said firmly.

Ghost moved past them both without a word, heading straight for the windows. He checked each one methodically, examining the locks and peering out into the darkness.

“Where did you feel it?” he asked so quietly she had to strain to hear him. “The watching.”

“The front door of the bakery. When I was locking up.”

Ghost nodded once and disappeared into the dining room.

“Is he...?” She gestured vaguely.

“Creepy?” X finished for her. “Yes, but we love him anyway. He’s a good one to have in your corner in these situations.”

“He’s checking the perimeter,” Jax said. “If anyone was out there, Ghost will find evidence of them.”

Nessie wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warm night. “This is crazy, right? I’m being paranoid.”

Jax’s gaze was steady. “Trust your instincts. If you felt something was wrong, something probably was.”

Mariah appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes widening at the sight of Jax and X. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Nessie said quickly. “Just a... a precaution.”

Mariah’s gaze flicked between them, her expression skeptical. “Uh-huh. You know I’m not buying that, right?”

No, of course she wasn’t. But she let it slide, which was one of the reasons Nessie adored the woman.

They both had their secrets.

“Okay, well, Oliver and Tate are asleep,” Mariah said. “Finally. After three stories and a lengthy discussion about whether T-Rexes would make good pets.”

Despite her anxiety, Nessie smiled. “Let me guess, he thinks they would?”

“To be decided. I swear Oliver would’ve made a Venn diagram on the subject if I’d let him. Tate was less enthusiastic. I think the shine of dinos is wearing off for him.” She again looked at Jax and X. “You’re really okay?”

“Yep,” Nessie said a bit too brightly.

Mariah still didn’t look convinced, but again, she didn’t push. “I should probably get Tate home and into bed.”

“Oh.” Nessie bit her lip and shot a panicked look at Jax.

Was it safe for Mariah to walk home with a sleepy boy by herself? She only lived a block over, but what if someone had been lurking around the bakery?

X pushed off the counter and flashed a movie-star grin. “Wouldn’t want a beautiful woman and her son walking alone at night. I’d be happy to give you and the little man a ride. My truck’s right outside. Heated seats. Killer playlist. Sexy cowboy charm included at no extra charge, hermosa.”

“Well.” Mariah bristled, all of those quills she kept hidden behind her sweet Southern belle facade flaring. “I don’t know where you got all that audacity, but you need to go put it right back.”

He laughed, completely unbothered. “That’s fair. But, seriously, it’s no trouble.”

Mariah folded her arms. “I’ve been walking that route for years without incident, Mr...?”

“Vega. Xavier Vega. But everyone calls me X.” He extended a hand, smile still easy, the sleeve of his shirt riding up to reveal the sharp edge of a black tattoo. “And it would be my genuine pleasure.”

Mariah gave the hand a brief, dismissive glance. “I’m sure it would. No, thank you.” Then she turned to Nessie. “I’ll text when we get home.”

X’s smile slipped just a little, his brow furrowing in confusion. He glanced at Jax as if seeking confirmation that he’d actually been turned down, then looked back at Mariah. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just figured... if someone’s watching the place?—”

“ What ?” Mariah’s gaze sharpened. “Someone’s watching the bakery?”

Nessie shot X a frustrated look before stepping closer to her friend. “I’m probably just being paranoid, but I’d feel better if you didn’t walk home alone tonight, okay? Accept the ride. Please? For me?”

Mariah released a short breath. “Okay.” She pulled Nessie in for a hug. “But we’re going to sit down with a glass of wine and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

“Deal,” Nessie said, squeezing her friend’s hand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Mariah steeled her spine and faced X. “Your playlist better not suck, cowboy.”

She brushed past him, all deliberate indifference, but Nessie caught the way her shoulders stiffened when X murmured, “Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you, mi reina. ”

Mariah didn’t answer, but her ears went pink.