I didn't get it."What's wrong?"
"The money – if someone comes looking for it, you'd better pretend you don't know me."
I still wasn't following. "Why? It's not like you stole it." I lowered my voice. "I mean, you didn't, did you?"
At this, she actually snorted. The sound was so un-Tessa-like that I started to laugh. Soon, she was laughing again, too.
I wasn't even sure why. We hadn't drunkthatmuch. Had we? My gaze strayed to the table. The pile of bottles was a lot smaller than when we'd started. But hey, those bottles were tiny, right?
I was starting to eyeball that little pink number when she replied, "Nah, it was a tip."
My gaze snapped back to Tessa. "Seriously? Someone tipped you a hundred bucks? At a coffee shop?"Wow, only Golden Girl could pull that off. And for once, I meant that as a compliment.
"Yup." She rubbed her temple. "But now I'm wondering if he's gonna come back and demand a refund." She blew out a long, trembling breath. "If you want the truth, I'm feeling kind of guilty."
"About the tip? Why?"
She lifted the little white bottle to her lips. "Let's just say I didn't really earn it."
10
Eclectic, Not Electric
Griff
Cranberries.Were they better than raisins? Sure, why not?
But nobody – and I mean nobody – should have to survive on a diet of pastries infested with those things. Cranberry muffins. Cranberry cookies. Fucking cranberry bagels.
I hadn't even ordered bagels. But there they'd been – three plain ones, slathered with cream cheese and topped with the closest thing to raisins.
The bagels had been my breakfast. I'd eaten them first, figuring they would be the first to go bad, considering that my fridge was better at making noise than keeping anything cold. Of course, the bagels themselves might've been fine if not for those globs of cream cheese, which I hadn't orderedorwanted.
A dumber guy might've blamed the barista. Me? I blamed Ryder. He'd practically asked for it, and hereIwas, collateral damage.
Well played, you devious bastard.
In the twenty-four hours since I'd landed on Mackinac Island, I'd eaten too many cranberries, learned that I was far too big for any single bed, and reached a sobering conclusion.It would be a long-ass month if I didn't grab the bull by the horns.
Yesterday had been a royal shitshow. This place, the challenge, Ryder's needling – all of it had conspired to give me one hell of a headache.
And yeah, the hangover hadn't helped.
But yesterday was gone, and I wasn't that guy – the kind who blamed everyone else when things got rough. And I sure as hell wasn't the type to take out my mood on strangers, especially earnest ones with pretty eyes and zero concept of self-preservation.
So I'd hiked into town to make things right.
Step one. Apologize to the brunette.
Step two. Score a sandwich that didn't involve cranberries.
Step three. Find some decent transportation – and no, I didn't mean off the island. I was no quitter. But itwouldbe nice to find something with wheels so I didn't spend half the day cooped up in the fish-reeking house of horrors.
Walking along Main Street, I'd traded the smell of dead fish for the scent of live horses – an improvement by any stretch, sweetened by the aroma of fresh fudge drifting out from nearby shops.
I almost stopped when I saw the burger joint – a narrow restaurant tucked between a hotel and souvenir shop."Later,"I told myself. Ten bucks a day wouldn't go far in a tourist town of any size, and I'd be a fool to splurge on day one.
So I kept going, navigating the crowded sidewalk as I kept an eye out for the place where she worked. Pickett's Pedals – I recalled the name on her shirt. In such a small town, it shouldn't be hard to find.
