“Oh I’ve heard about you. Came back to town and made an honest man out of Walker Anderson, huh?”
“Hmm, something like that.” Caroline parked herself at the end of the counter and gave Ford a smile that was a little too big to be totally natural. “You survived your first week back in Whittier. That’s impressive,” she said, ripping open a packet of honey with one sharp twist. “I almost didn’t, that’s for sure.”
Ford raised both palms in surrender. “Ah, barely. I get the feeling I’m only just starting to inspire the pitchfork crowd.”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Caroline said. “Not that I ever believe half the stuff I hear around here. But the gossip has been great at the clinic this week.” She cast me a sly look, and then said, “Ford, are you keeping up with your aftercare? You need to ice your jaw, you know.”
He tapped his face, grinning. “Believe it or not, I’m being very responsible.”
Caroline pulled a face that was half skeptical, half indulgent. “If you end up with lockjaw, don’t come crying to me. I’ve seen men lose their ability to eat solid food for life, you know. All because they thought they were too tough for ice packs.”
“Now that’s a fate worse than death,” Ford said. He managed not to flinch when he smiled, which made me think he was either a good liar or actually healing up fast. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on more of these scones.”
My heart did a stupid flutter.
“Shameless,” Caroline said, but her eyes twinkled. “I’m glad you’re settling in. I know Walker is happy you’re back.”
Ford did a double-take, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead, but Caroline just kept smiling. She took her cup and sipped at it, then leveled a look at me. “You free after your shift?”
“Yeah. Noah’s at daycare this afternoon, so I’ve got a couple hours.”
“Perfect. Meet me down the block at three-thirty. I have a surprise.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” she said, getting up and grabbing her things. “You’ll see!”
With that, she spun around and headed out the door.
Ford shrugged a shoulder and smiled at her announcement, raising his coffee in a pretend toast.
“I wonder what that’s all about.”
Just then, the bell above the door jingled a little too hard. I looked up and schooled my face to hide the natural grimace that begged to break free. The woman who entered was every inch the magazine cover for “Who’s Who in Whittier Falls.” Hair blown out into perfect golden waves, sunglasses perched on herhead, jacket cinched tight around a waist so small I wondered if she ever ate anything with actual calories. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she surveyed the room like she owned it. Which, in a way, she kind of did.
Krystal Cummings. Krystal with a K. If Whittier Falls had an unofficial queen, it was her. She was older than me, so I only knew her because she was so blindingly popular. In high school, she’d been cheer captain, Student Council VP, and prom queen runner-up. After high school, she’d gone on to run a boutique in Bozeman, and she had the bank account and Instagram following to prove it. Now she was back, settled down with a bank president twice her age, and fighting for top spot in all of the town committees.
She didn’t even look at me. Her gaze landed directly on Ford, who was still standing at the counter, checking something on his phone.
“Oh. My. God,” she said, in a voice that carried through the entire block. “Ford Brooks! I thought that was you!”
Ford looked up, and I swear I saw every muscle in his face tense at once. He managed a thin, polite smile. “Hey, Krystal.”
She beamed, sliding up to him with an energy that made the room feel three degrees hotter. “Wow, you look—amazing. So grown up. I almost didn’t recognize you.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm, fingers curling around his bicep like she was checking to see if he was real.
He shifted his weight, gently extricating himself. “Thanks. You, uh, haven’t changed a bit.”
Krystal laughed, a sound so sharp I nearly dropped a glass. “Stop! I have at least three new laugh lines, thanks to my twins. Have you met them yet? Oh, you probably haven’t. You don’t really come back here, do you?”
He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Not much reason to.”
Krystal’s eyes flicked to the bruised side of his jaw. “Wow. I heard about the, um, incident. Damon’s such a Neanderthal. I always said that, right? You remember?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, just launched straight into the next volley. “But you—oh my god, Ford. Everyone in town is obsessed with your story right now. I mean, you’ve always been a genius, but a literal tech billionaire? Wild. Did you really sell your company to Google?”
There it was. The real reason for her enthusiasm. If Krystal had one talent, it was sniffing out anyone with more money, more gossip, or more status than she had.
Ford’s voice was patient, but there was an edge to it. “It wasn’t Google. It was a private buyer.”
