Page 22 of His Wisconsin Wallflower (Stateside Doms #25)

Chapter Twenty

After a restless night filled with vivid, haunting dreams, Raisa had to struggle to keep her eyes open by mid-afternoon.

The dreams had started innocently enough, with Quinten’s touch lingering on her skin, their bodies entwined in a way that made her wake panting and wet.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The second half of the night carried darker visions as she tossed and turned.

The grainy footage of the woman stepping from the car replayed in her mind, but this time, the face looking back at her wasn’t Vanessa’s but Gavin’s.

She had startled awake, her pulse racing, only to fall back into another nightmare.

This time, it was Corbin’s face on the screen.

Each dream had been too vivid, the faces so real they clung to her like cobwebs even after waking.

She had given up on sleep entirely. Instead, she had dragged herself to the shop in the pre-dawn hours and dived into a baking frenzy to drown out her lingering unease.

Raisa stood behind the counter and suppressed a yawn, as the comforting hum of conversations, clatter of cutlery, the hissing coffee machine, and soft music filled the shop.

Business was steady for a Tuesday, with a handful of customers browsing the shelves or enjoying their coffee and pastries at tables near the window.

She glanced at the clock. Only an hour left until closing time.

Movement at the door signaled incoming customers, and she straightened reflexively.

Her heart sank when Beth and Devaney swept into the shop.

As usual, Beth led the way, her blond curls bouncing as she sauntered to the counter.

Devaney trailed behind her, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a raven’s wing, her perfectly arched brows raised as if she were too good to be here. Raisa forced a polite smile.

“Well, well, there are even some customers in here.” Beth’s voice dripped with condescension. “Must be a relief for you to make some money, huh?”

Raisa swallowed the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, plastered on a polite smile, and instead asked in a neutral tone, “What can I get you?”

Beth smirked, leaning against the counter. “I’ll take a vanilla latte. Extra foam.”

“Coming right up.” Raisa reached for a large mug.

Despite the irritation prickling under her skin, she poured all her love for coffeemaking into the beverage.

“I’ll have the same,” Devaney said.

Raisa blinked, caught off guard. Devaney rarely ordered anything, likely because she assumed Raisa would spit in it.

The thought brought a flicker of amusement.

She half turned to hide her smirk, but it was soon extinguished by the unsettling sway of Devaney’s hips as she moved toward a vacant table.

Like all the cheerleaders, she walked with deliberate, practiced grace.

The click of her heels against the wooden floor was unusually loud.

Raisa’s gaze dropped to Devaney’s feet. Normally, she didn’t wear heels, Raisa knew that much.

With her taller-than-average frame and large feet, Devaney rarely drew attention to them.

She preferred sneakers, like the red, white, and black Nike Air Jordans with the distinctive pattern.

Steadying herself with a hand braced on the edge of the countertop, her mind raced.

Could it really be Devaney? The possibility made her stomach churn.

She glanced back at the table where Devaney now sat, looking around the shop with disdain written all over her face, like a queen who was visiting a peasant living in a trailer.

Her heart pounded, her mind screaming at her to not act rashly. This was more than a coincidence. The heels, the order, the way Devaney swanned into the shop like she owned the place—everything.

The skin between Raisa’s shoulder blades prickled, her whole body going still. She didn’t want to turn her back on them. The idea of walking away—of showing them the vulnerable line of her spine—made her throat tighten. Her lizard brain told her she should keep them where she could see them.

She wanted to act, but how? Devaney couldn’t leave, not until she figured out what to do. She forced herself to focus on making the lattes.

Could it really be Devaney?

Did she have something to do with Vanessa’s disappearance?

This seemed absurd, but the evidence was mounting.

Or is my dislike for the woman clouding my judgment?

Raisa’s hands shook as she carried the drinks over and placed them on the table.

Beth reached for her latte, her sharp eyes narrowing. “You took your sweet time with that.”

“Sorry about that,” Raisa said quickly, averting her gaze. She glanced at Devaney, who was staring at her, her back to the window. Straightening, she managed a breezy, “Enjoy your drinks.”

She scuttled back behind the counter, muttered an excuse to Lila and disappeared into the kitchen. After closing the door, Raisa pulled her phone from her pocket and, typed out a quick text to Quinten: Devaney is here with Beth. I think she might have something to do with Vanessa. I need help.

She hit send and tucked away her phone. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Devaney? For sure? But how? And why?

After putting her phone away, she left the kitchen. Lila cocked her head in a clear but silent, “Are you all right?”

Goodness, I love that woman.

Raisa gave her a barely there nod, before locking her focus on Devaney. The raven-haired woman was sipping her drink with a smug smile, scanning the shop lazily. She looked far too relaxed for someone who might have been involved in a crime.

Raisa’s pulse raced as she tried to think of a way to keep Devaney occupied.

She grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the counter, sneaking glances at the two women.

Beth was chatting animatedly, but Devaney’s attention flicked toward Raisa.

There was something sharp and calculating in her startling blue gaze that set Raisa’s teeth on edge.

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She reached for her phone again, pretending to check the time, but her fingers hovered over the screen. Should she send another message to Quinten? She hadn’t heard back yet. The tension in her chest grew unbearable.

“Raisa?”

She looked up to see Devaney standing at the counter, her arms crossed. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Raisa rushed out the words, hating that her voice sounded higher than usual. “Why would there be?”

Devaney’s lips curled into a smirk. “You keep looking at me. It’s distracting.”

“I’m not”—Raisa started—“All right, okay. Yes, I am. I was admiring your shoes. Where did you find them?”

“My shoes?” Devaney narrowed her eyes to slits. Her gaze was cold and cutting enough to draw blood.

Raisa took an involuntary step back thanks to the intense hatred in those eyes, her movement halted by the coffee prep table behind her.

Devaney leaned in, and her voice dropped to an angry whisper shout.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Her tone was laced with menace.

“Let me tell you; you’re not. So, stop whatever it is you’re trying to do. ”

Raisa’s breath hitched. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Devaney’s entire bearing was so predatory it gave Raisa a ‘deer in the headlight’ sensation.

Then the bell above the door jingled again, and the tension snapped like a rubber band.

“Hey, Raisa.” Gavin’s voice rang out, casual and light. Corbin followed close behind, looking so much like his brother as he scanned the room that Quinten’s absence was like a physical ache. Corbin glanced at Devaney before shifting his attention to Raisa.

Raisa’s knees nearly gave out. Now three of the people she suspected might be involved with Vanessa’s disappearance were in her shop.

“Gavin. Corbin.” She inclined her head, surprised her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Gavin glanced between her and Devaney, his easy smile fading as he took in the two of them and the tension in the air. “Everything okay here?”

“Fine and dandy,” Devaney said smoothly, stepping back and straightening her posture. “We were just leaving. Check?”

“Actually.” Gavin stepped forward and looped an arm around Devaney’s shoulders. “Why don’t you stay a little bit longer? You and I need to talk. Have another drink. On me.”

Devaney’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. Beth, still seated at the table, looked up in confusion. Raisa exchanged a glance with Corbin, who gave her a casual shrug and sauntered over to Beth, effectively parting the two cheerleaders.

The message blinked on Quinten’s phone, drawing his full attention.

Devaney is here with Beth. I think she might have something to do with Vanessa. I need help.

His first thought was frustration. What now? Are they ganging up on Raisa again? But as his eyes flicked back over the words, the mention of Vanessa hit him like a gut punch. Vanessa? What the hell does she mean?

Quinten shot out of his chair, ignoring the sharp clatter as it catapulted over the tiled floor and slammed into a metal filing cabinet, and dashed toward the door.

“Quinten?” his mom called from behind the reception desk.

He winced but didn’t stop, throwing a quick apology over his shoulder. “Sorry, Mom! I’ll explain later!”

The January air hit him like a wall of ice, stealing his breath.

Only then did he realize he’d left his coat behind but there was no chance he was going back for it.

Fear and agitation burned hotter than the cold ever could as he broke into a jog, heading straight to Winslow’s Shelf: Pages & Pastries.

His heart pounded—not from the exertion but from the heavy churn of adrenaline and unease.

As he rounded the last corner, he let out a harsh exhalation as he caught sight of the familiar sign swinging gently in the breeze.

Without slowing, he pushed open the door with more force than he intended, making it slam against the facade with a loud bang.

The sudden noise drew all eyes to him. Quinten took in the tense scene where Gavin sat across from Devaney at a table near the center of the shop. His posture was stiff, and his face was unreadable.

Across the way, over by the window, Corbin was seated next to Beth, whose usual smug expression had faded into something far more guarded.

His gaze homed in on Raisa. His woman stood behind the counter, her expression worried expression. Next to her, almost pressed against her side, stood Lila, who look mostly stunned and curious.

He returned his attention to the beautiful, brilliant woman who had captured his heart. Her eyes widened when they met his, brimming with a mixture of relief and something else, maybe anxiety?

“What the heck is going on here?” Quinten snapped out as he took a step forward and mule kicked the door closed behind him to shut out the January cold.

He took in the room, challenging them to speak.

Gavin was the first to speak up. “I’ll explain.” He pushed back his chair and stood. His cousin seemed to have aged ten years in one day.

Gavin glanced down at Devaney with disgust. She lifted her chin defiantly, and her usual haughty air was even more pronounced. But beneath that arrogant facade was something else—likely nerves.

Gavin made a distressed sound, which had Quinten swirl back to face his cousin.

“I’ve been seeing Devaney… in secret,” he admitted, shamefaced.

“I know it’s wrong—going behind Archie’s back—but her husband’s barely ever home.

He’s always off on some business trip.” He shrugged, as if trying to downplay his guilt, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him.

“You and Devaney?” Quinten’s eyebrows shot up before he looked ceilingward. “I remember you two dating in high school,” he drawled.

Gavin nodded once. “Yeah, we did.” He glanced at Devaney, who crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. She looked to Raisa before focusing on Gavin. Despite this moment, Quinten was shocked by the amount of hatred in her eyes as she stared at his woman.

“Anyway, yesterday…”

Gavin’s words draw back Quinten’s attention.

“…when I saw the CCTV footage, I recognized something.” He hesitated, glancing to Raisa. “I recognized Dev’s shoes.”

Quinten’s heart thudded. “Her shoes?” He lowered his voice. “The sneakers?”

Gavin nodded, and his expression turned grim. “Her favorite sneakers are red, black, and white Nike Air Jordans. The person in the footage is wearing the same ones.”

“That doesn’t prove a thing!”

Gavin turned to his girlfriend, but there was no love in his expression or tone.

“You told me they are a collector’s item.

Not many people in Cedarburg would have them, don’t you think?

” Returning his attention to Quinten, he continued like Devaney hadn’t interrupted him.

“At first, I wasn’t convinced. I thought maybe Raisa was grasping at straws.

But then…” He slid his gaze toward Raisa, and his tone softened.

“Then you talked about how the mind can trick you, how we see what we want to believe is true. And I realized…” He looked down.

“I have been taken for a fool.” He muttered a curse before glaring at Devaney.

“I’ve been trying to call Dev since last night.

” His voice hardened. “But you’ve been dodging my calls. ”

Quinten focused on Devaney, who sat unmoving, her chin was raised, like they and this conversation were beneath her. “Talk,” he growled. He was thankful she wasn’t within arm’s reach, otherwise he might have wrung her pretty, long neck.

Devaney’s lips curved into a small but cold smile. “I have nothing to say.” Her words dripped with disdain. Still a haughty queen looking down at her subjects.

Pulling out his phone, Quinten speed dialed a saved number. “You’ll talk to the police.” With his thumb, he pressed the call button. “Or they’ll make you.”

Her eyes widened. It was the first crack in her composed facade. “You can’t be serious!”

“Watch me.” Quinten put the phone to his ear and waited for Detective Maloney to answer his call.