Page 7 of Love Me Tender
“That’ll do, pig.”
A grin tugged at Grant’s mouth as he hung up the phone. His little brother had been the one reason he’d second-guessed his decision to leave both his family and San Francisco. But after years of trying to toe the family line had culminated in his disastrous relationship with Vivian and an excess of his mother’s interference, his instinct to start over—to do what he wanted, instead of what everyone else wanted—had taken precedence.
But his family was still his family. He no longer cared about disappointing his parents, but not for anything would he let his brother down. He’d suck it up and get through the gauntlet of eligible women his mother was lining up for him.
Too bad he didn’t have a girlfriend he could bring along. Aplus onebuffer who’d also take care of the seating snafu.
Unless…
He glanced at the clock, grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair, and headed outside. He hurried toward Starfish Avenue, where a mid-afternoon crowd was going in and out of shops and cafés. Turning on to Dandelion Street, he approached the courtyard where the Sugar Joy bakery was located.
Rory was helping a guy who stood beside the counter. Impatiently, Grant stopped to wait.
“Regular or decaf?” She grabbed a mug and looked at the guy expectantly.
“What kind is it?” he asked.
“Dark or light.”
“I mean, the dark. Is it Columbian, French Roast, what?”
Barely rolling her eyes, she picked up the bag of coffee and studied the label. “Arabian Mocha-Java. Full-bodied with complex overtones.”
“Can I have a sample?”
Rory flicked her gaze to Grant. He shrugged. He’d dealt with more pretentious assholes than he could remember.
She poured coffee into a cup and handed it to the guy. He took a sip, swished it around his mouth, and nodded. “Okay, give me a large.”
“A large it is.” She poured the coffee and rang up the purchase. “Thanks a bunch, sir.”
Only she could make a thank-you sound like,“Now fuck off.”
After the customer took his cup to a table, Rory lifted an eyebrow at Grant.
“Got any single-origin, semi-aged, organic Sulawesi-Kalosi?” he asked.
She rubbed her cheek with her middle finger.
Grant grinned. “Be grateful he didn’t order wine. I could tell you stories.”
“I’ll bet you could.”
“Why’d you leave so fast last night?”
“You noticed?” She crossed her arms and tilted her chin. “I thought you were too busy chatting up Madeline Fox to notice anything or anyone else.”
“I’m an excellent multitasker.”
“Multitasking leads to mistakes and shoddy work. You should try focusing instead.” She turned to pick up an empty baking tray. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I need to talk to you.” He let his gaze slip to her ass, which looked round and perfect in frayed denim shorts with the little bow of her apron tied right at her lower back. As usual, he also appreciated the shape of her long legs and the contrast of her scuffed leather boots.
“So talk,” she said.
“You off soon?”
“Wow, this talk requires me to get off? I’m intrigued.” Rory glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes.”