Page 8 of The Night
I yanked open the door and stepped insideFanaille,where the air reeked of butter, cinnamon, and blessed, blessed coffee. It made my mouth water, which was the only reason I didn’t turn around, walk right back out, and drive my ass home. Instead, I took a spot at the end of a five-person line, stared at my boots, and tried to ignore the Santa reject who’d followed me inside.
“I didn’t mean it likethat,” he insisted, standing in line behind me.
I turned my head to glare. “I don’t carewhatway you meant it,” I said in a fierce whisper, “but I can goddamn fucking guarantee you, I’m nobody’sDaddy. Not literally, and sure asfucknot figuratively. I’m only thirty-nine years old!”
“Okay.Okay!” Parker’s face flamed. “But you know, it’s more of a vibe, not an age thing! You’re a solid, dependable guy. And you’ve got that whole silver fox aesthetic, with the hair.” With his free hand, he gestured toward my head, and I couldn’t help scrubbing my fingers over the short strands, like I could erase whatever it was about them that screamedDaddy.
Parker cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “So, ah, not Brian then?”
I stared at him wordlessly.
“Right. Yes,” he said hurriedly. “Definitely not Brian. Okay, then. Do you know Reggie Carbury?”
“Parker.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to say this so you’ll understand, since English doesn’t seem to be working. This is not happening. I don’t date. Ido notdate. It’s not for a lack of available men, okay? It’s not because I lack confidence or opportunity. It’s becauseI don’t want to.So please go find yourself an orphan who needs a family for Christmas, or a homeless kitty who needs a friend for Hanukkah, because I’m not playing along.”
“Isn’t rescuing kittens kind ofyourthing?” Parker grinned mischievously, completely undeterred, and I gnashed my teeth.
“I can’t believe you brought that up. That wasonetime!” I hissed. “Months ago. And I had no idea anyone was taking my damn picture, let alone that the fucking thing was gonna be all over the internet.”
“But you looked so hot, all decked out in your fire gear, with the little orange puff ball cuddled against your big, manly chest! Ovaries and movaries exploded all over New York.” Parker fluttered his eyelashes.
Once again, I was confident I would regret asking, but… “Movaries?”
“Oh, that’s ah, male ovaries?” Parker twisted his mouth to one side. “Pretty sure it’s a thing. Or possibly I made it up.”
“Jesus.” I scrubbed at my hair again. “Whywould you make that up?”
“Well, you know when you see an adorable baby and you get the sudden, temporary urge to have a kid just so you can squish its cheeks all day?”
“No.”
“Okay, well have you ever seen a hot guy doing something super sweet, like perhapscuddlingsaid cute baby or, say, nestling a tiny kitten against his chest, and you kinda feel simultaneously protective and aroused?”
“No.”
Parker sighed. “Well then possibly you were born without movaries.”
“I think that’sverylikely.Since they don’t exist.”I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and shook my head.
This would be the day I was finally driven to insanity by the populace of O’Leary. And Istilldidn’t have a damn coffee in my hand.
Ash Martin, one of the co-owners of the bakery, glanced in our direction and lifted his chin when he saw Parker. It wasn’t often that I looked at Ash and saw the Navy SEAL he used to be—frankly, it was hard to remember he hadn’t alwaysbeen behind the counter atFanaillewith Cal, or that he and Cal hadn’t alwaysbeen a thing—but sometimes it came through in his eyes or in the way he moved his bulky frame like he wasn’t six and a half feet tall and shaped like an inverted triangle.
Ash finished making a coffee and handed it over with a smile, then stepped up close behind Cal, bracing his hands on Cal’s hips. He leaned down and whispered something in Cal’s ear that made Cal turn his red head in our direction, then look all the way up at Ash. He whispered something back, leaning his head against Ash’s chest, and his lips quirked at the corners like he was giving Ash shit, but his eyes were too caramel-soft to really pull off the snarkiness that used to be his trademark. Caelan James, who was once the crankiest person in O’Leary, was head over heels for his fiancé and didn’t care who knew it.
And according to Parker, now I’d inherited his title.
I frowned down at the black and white floor tiles.
It wasn’t like I was grumpy on purpose. People just pissed me off. And it wasn’t that I reacted negatively toeverythingin the world, just to stupid, trivial shit like Santa contests. And creepy-as-fuck Santas. And people doing good deeds for other people. And Christmas. And dating. And… flyers.
Huh.
Okay, so possibly Iwasthe grumpiest person in O’Leary. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I stepped forward in line as Ash came around the counter and stopped by Parker. “Ya got the goods?” he stage whispered.
“Yep.” Parker put down his sack and rifled through the contents before pulling out a hunk of red fabric. “And you havenoidea how hard it was to source a sequoia-sized Santa suit, Ashley Martin. Lay off the Wheaties.”