Page 6 of Kane
“You’re from Wedgewood but want to drive to Crossbend to work?” She glanced at my résumé again, and her brow furrowed. “Why’re you leaving Bean There Brewed That?”
I blinked, wanting to kick myself for not thinking up an answer to this obvious question at some point over the past three days. It had seemed safer to do my digging in person during the day instead of at night, so I’d had to wait until I wasn’t working. “You know how it is in a small town, no real chance to spread your wings when everyone’s known you since before you could walk. I figured this was about as far away as I could get without having to move out of my apartment because that’s such a pain.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” She skimmed the details of my job experience and nodded. “You’re qualified, I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve spent plenty of time at the espresso machine, grinder, and frother.” I offered a confident smile. “I practiced my skills on my brother, Devon Quincy, for years.” I looked for a spark of recognition in her eyes, but when I didn’t see one, I continued. “And I’ve dealt with all sorts of clientele, so you don’t need to worry about me getting flustered if Kane Beckett or any of the guys in his MC come in for coffee.”
“We get all kinds of customers.”
Her answer didn’t tell me anything at all, unfortunately. “So they come in here often?”
Something behind her eyes sharpened. “If you’re planning to ask questions about the Redline Kings, you’re wasting your time.”
The shift in her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was final.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not sure how much y’all know about the club over in Wedgewood, but here in Crossbend, we don’t gossip about the Redline Kings. Especially not with outsiders.”
“Oh, I, um…didn’t mean anything by it.” I tried to look as innocent as possible when I added, “I just figured you might be worried how I’d react if bikers came into your shop.”
She pursed her lips. “If you want to work here, you’ll learn fast to treat the Redline Kings like VIPs.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
I forced a smile, thanked her for her time, and promised to follow up about the job later in the week. Then I stepped back into the hot Florida sun and swallowed hard. Apparently, just mentioning Kane Beckett’s club was enough to make people nervous.
Next, I went into the bakery just a block from the coffee shop. With a whitewashed brick front, hanging flower baskets lining the awning, and a hand-painted sign over the door that read Sugar & Spice, it looked like something out of a romcom. The sweet smell alone was enough to make me forget how awkward my last conversation had been.
The display case was stocked with cupcakes, fruit tarts, and perfectly glazed donuts. The place was busy but not chaotic, with a steady stream of customers weaving between tables and chatting softly in the bright, cozy space.
A girl about my age stood behind the counter, her hair in a low ponytail and flour dusted on her apron. She looked up and smiled as I approached. “What can I get you?”
I scanned the case, then pointed at a chocolate croissant. “That one looks dangerously good.”
She grinned. “It’s my favorite. Want it warmed up?”
“Yes, please.” I leaned against the counter. “I’m glad I decided to do some exploring today. A place like this makes me wish I had a better metabolism.”
She laughed and popped the pastry in the small oven behind her. “You’re not from Crossbend?”
“Nope. Wedgewood. Just a few towns over.”
“You picked a good time to stop in, then. We had some out-of-towners who wiped us out of just about everything early yesterday. Those guys could eat like you wouldn’t believe, which I guess makes sense with how many hours they spend behind the wheel in the blazing sun. That’s gotta burn a ton of calories.”
Bingo.
I tilted my head casually and did my best to sound like I knew what I was talking about. “Oh, do they race for Kane Beckett?”
The effect was instant. Her body tensed just slightly as she turned away to check the oven, and the two older women seated nearby went quiet mid-conversation. The man behind me shifted his weight, clearly listening now.
The girl turned back toward me and slid the croissant onto a plate, her smile dimmed. “I wouldn’t ask too many questions about that, if I were you.”
My brow furrowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just heard about them from my brother, Devon, and got curious because it sounded so interesting.”
“Best to stay un-curious around here,” she replied, gentle but firm. “Maybe it works differently in Wedgewood, but people like their business kept private in Crossbend.”