“We didn’t see anything except an SUV ripping out of here over the speed limit.” I smile reassuringly. “He really wanted to take photos of this place, if you’re okay with it. So he’ll be happy to help get it back into picture-perfect condition.”
That gets a little snort of amusement out of her, her shoulders coming down a bit. “Sounds like an easy way to excuse child labor.”
“You’re helping me teach him responsibility. I’m paying for his mistake with cash, but he still needs to understand that if he’s careless, it has consequences. Helping sweep up some napkins is a pretty small punishment, and in the end, you’re the one doing me a favor.”
“I wish it was just napkins,” she says glumly, palming her face.
Looks like I was right about Miss Felicity.
She’s as proud as a prized filly, and the best way to get through to her when she’s upset is to get past that defensive pride that makes her lock up at the idea of accepting anyone’s help.
Can’t say I blame her, if people jump to rumors anytime someone’s so much as a little kind to her.
Everything has a price, I guess.
I don’t know how to make her believe that my concern right now comes with no strings attached.
“Well,” she says a bit more lightly, though a choked sob lingers in her voice. “If it’s really going to help you and Eli’s photo habit out...okay.”
I straighten, rising up from my kneel. It’s taking everything in me not to reach for her just to grip her chin, maybe guide her face toward me so I can get a closer look and make sure she’s really not hurt.
“Grab the broom,” I say. “I’ll grab the kid.”
I offer Felicity my hand.
For a second, I think she won’t take it.
Then she slides her slim fingers into my palm, and for a moment something electric shoots through me.
There’s a spark where she touches. I know damned well you hear all that stuff about a charge when two people touch and think it’s all wild exaggeration.
Hopeless romantics and dreamers making something out of nothing.
Still, I’m not sure what to make of this.
I just know when her soft skin touches mine, when her delicate fingertips curl against my palm, my heart jumps like it’s been hit with a defibrillator.
Fuck, I barely remember to lift her up to her feet before I forget how to move, how to breathe, how to be.
She’s just as petrified. Did she feel it too?
There’s a widening of her eyes, and her eyelashes fan out like delicate black wisps. She looks up at me quickly, questions swirling in that gaze, in the parting of her lips, as if she wants to ask me the same question.
Did you...?
Then she jerks back, curling her hand against her chest.
She turns and nearly races away, picking over the debris scattered around us before disappearing in the back.
I stand there for a few more seconds, surrounded by the ruins of everything she’s worked for, staring after her.
I’m only watching her for a limp, I tell myself, just in case she’s hurt and trying to hide it.
Right.
What the fresh hell is going on?
I never felt like this with Katelyn.
That was a whole different story, a tale of bad decisions, two young people going down the wrong path and convinced it was right because we were walking it together. Before we knew it, there was a kid in the mix and that expanded the list of crap I put up with tenfold for Eli’s sake.
Goddamn.
I swear, I can still feel Felicity’s touch branded on my palm, ticklish and sweet.
Turning away with a snort, I head back outside into the warm spring night. The smell of the evening air comes on so different from the warm roasting scents inside the café. It almost slaps me in the face, the breeze sharp in the back of my throat.
Eli’s nowhere to be seen.
Until I rap on the passenger side window, and a shaggy head pops up.
“Is it okay?” he asks, his voice muffled through the glass.
“Come on out,” I say. “If you want your photos, you’ve gotta help clean up first.”
Eli groans. “I didn’t make any messes this time!”
“Nope, but we’re helping Miss Felicity.”
Eli’s face falls. He unlocks the door and slinks out of the SUV, glancing at the soft-lit windows of The Nest.
“Is she okay, Dad? They didn’t hurt her, did they?”
I keep my smile to myself.
Sounds like my son likes Miss Felicity as much as I do.
“Nope,” I say. “Not even a little bruise. C’mon. Let’s get to work.”
We head inside and join her.
She starts cleaning out the display case and throwing out the ruined pastries and cakes and candy, while Eli starts sweeping, and I work at righting all the furniture. Mostly just chairs, though a few heavy tables got knocked over, too—thank God these weren’t glass, but wood slabs that survived with maybe a dinged corner here and there.
It’s easy enough, working together like this.
Feels comfortable. Familiar in a weird way, despite the ugly scene I keep wondering about.
Satisfying, even, to be putting Felicity’s store back in one piece.
It takes about an hour to make it decent again, including throwing all the destroyed stuff in a big trash bag and dragging it to the dumpster out back. On my way back inside from the narrow alley, I stop by the vehicle and fetch the cash from the glove compartment.
When I walk back in through the front door, Eli’s perched on a barstool next to Felicity, showing her his camera. It’s an old Canon he picked up at a secondhand shop with a thick telescoping lens, and he’s telling her how to open and close the aperture ring.
“I’ve got a digital,” he says proudly, “but I like this one best. It takes better photos, but I can’t show them as easily. I need a darkroom to develop them right. Dad says if I’m good with my chores, once we get a place of our own, he’ll let me convert a spare room so I can work on my film instead of doing it at school.”
“That’s a great idea,” Felicity says with some amusement. “Especially since I don’t think the school has anything like a darkroom. We’re pretty rustic out here.”
“Lady, you don’t know backwoods till you’ve camped in the Yukon for a month,” I say, and they both look up at me.
Eli snorts, playfully rolling his eyes. “Don’t get him started. He’s so...Dad,” he says, like that explains everything.
Felicity gives me a quick smile, softer now in the clean, restored café, as if setting everything to rights brought her spirits back.
“He is indeed very Dad,” she teases lightly.
I can’t help how my heart skips at that smile.
Shit, this is bad.
Laughing, I settle on the stool on Eli’s other side and plunk the stack of bills on the bar between us. “Look, I’m used to roughing it. It’s how I learned to appreciate a good cup of coffee. It’s about all that kept me sane on long missions. Not to mention it’s a mighty good way to keep you from freezing your fingers off during those damned winters.”
“Missions?” Felicity cocks her head at me curiously.
“Dad used to be hardcore—a Navy SEAL,” Eli rushes out quickly.