Page 10 of I'll Carry You

He approached the café. Someone had decorated the large windows on the side with paper snowflakes and garlands, and twinkle lights framed the windows. In fact, all the shops on Main Street appeared to be decorated already.

He held the door for a woman exiting the café and went inside. A long bakery counter and display case showed a variety of baked goods, the full menu written on chalkboards on the wall behind it. The scent of coffee hung in the air, and the grinder screeched as he made his way over to the counter, where a short line waited. Tables were arranged artfully throughout the small space and beside the windows and a row of booths lined one wall. The wall itself seemed decorated with local artwork, which was for sale.Quaint.

Jason grabbed a bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans from a display and let his eyes wander the menu. He didn’t remember ever coming here. When his mom had brought him and Kevin to visit Mildred, they barely left the house.

He only remembered Main Street from the times they’d driven through it while he watched out the window.

Had he ever even asked to stop?

He didn’t remember doing it. Kevin had, though. But that was what younger brothers did—say things the older brothers knew they couldn’t.

As the line moved up, the girl behind the counter moved away from the espresso machine with a smile on her face. He stiffened.Jen.

Was this girl everywhere?

Maybe she had a twin.

She met his eyes, and her smile vanished. Nope, it was her. The corners of her eyes narrowed, then she set the drink she’d been working on at the far end of the counter and called out a name. When she returned her attention to him, she didn’t bother to look up. “What can I get you?”

He placed an order, watching as she scribbled it down in large, loopy cursive. She was probably the type of girl who made hearts instead of dots over her I’s. He struck the thought, staring at the top of her head. No, she wasn’t. She had too much of a chip on her shoulder for that. Any bubble in her personality had long since popped.

Probably by Kevin.

He paid in cash, and she avoided looking at him. “Thanks, your order will be right up. I’ll bring it to you.”

Tempted as he was to say something to her, he held his tongue and found his way to a table. He sat and slid his laptop from his case, feeling strangely unsettled. His decision to come to Brandywood had felt so smart two days ago. Like he was one step ahead of everyone else. All he had to do was talk to Mildred, convince her to stay quiet, and go back to his life in Chicago.

Now he wasn’t so sure about anything.

Should he feel bad about cutting this woman’s kid out of his due inheritance?

Absolutely not. She wasn’t a Cavanaugh. The kid was barely one.

He’d worked his ass off for his grandfather and the company. Held everything together when they’d restructured away from his grandfather’s dinosaur mentalities into twenty-first-century ideas. Not to mention all the bullshit he’d dealt with.

Kevin had cashed out early, taken off, and disappeared.

A shadow crossed his laptop screen as it powered up. He glanced to the side to see Jen holding his coffee in a steaming, artisan mug. She glared down at him, setting it on the table. “Are you following me?”

Oh.No wonder she’d been uncomfortable. Her concern was totally legitimate.

He gave her an easy smile. “If I told you you’re the one person in this town I’m trying not to run into, would you believe me?”

She scanned his gaze, not looking pacified. Crossing her arms, she sat, uninvited, in the chair across from his. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. If I were following someone, I wouldn’t want to run into them, either. So what is it? You’re just a terrible stalker? Or something else?”

“Look . . . Jen.” He noticed the nametag on her apron now, which he hadn’t seen when she was behind the counter. “I’m not following you. I’m not from around here, so this is weird for me, too, believe it or not. The chances of you turning up everywhere I go seem slim, even for a town this size. So I have to ask . . . are you following me?”

Her deadpan composure slipped and a smile played at the corner of her lips.Pretty lips.Full ones.

He looked away.

“Look . . . Jason.” She arched a brow and he smirked, leaning back in his seat. She had sass, that’s for sure. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I should have thanked you yesterday for helping, but truthfully, I was having a shitty day and I was really embarrassed to be your charity case. But thank you, regardless.” She stood. “The rest of your order will be up soon.”

He watched her go back behind the counter and shifted his focus to the coffee cup. The apology hadn’t been expected, and he didn’t really want it, either. He’d been happy to embrace the idea of her being rude. Lifting the mug, he sipped the coffee. It was surprisingly good. Not at all like the over-roasted swill he was used to getting from the big-name chain coffee shop at home.

The laptop beeped to alert him to an email. He hit the mute button on the keyboard. He didn’t want to deal with Bill Powell right now. Or Chad. Or Amanda.

The thought of Bill Powell as the face of Cavanaugh Metals made him sick. His family’s company had been known for years as one of the best metal fabricators in the automotive industry—not cheap, but superior quality. That reputation was something his grandfather had boasted about with pride. Now, with his grandfather gone and the inheritance at risk, Jason had been forced to assume the position of an employee on payroll, helpless to do anything to fix the company and even his own job at risk. An outsider.