by Ally Roberts
That was all Jonah needed to hear. He sprinted back inside the restaurant, leaving me alone with Davis, the busboy.
Davis swiveled on his heel, intent on following his boss back into the building.
“Davis, wait.”
He turned and looked at me, his brow furrowed.
I didn’t blame him. He didn’t know me, and he probably couldn’t imagine why some strange woman standing behind the restaurant would want to talk to him. He hadn’t been out there when Jonah mentioned his missing money, but maybe he knew something.
Still, I hesitated.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
It wasn’t my business.
And it definitely wasn’t this busboy’s, either.
But that didn’t stop me from finally finding my voice and asking, “Do you know anything about some missing money?”
He gave me a blank look. “Missing money?”
I nodded.
“No.” His frown deepened. “Why?”
“I was just wondering,” I said. “So nothing you know of is missing? From the restaurant?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” Then he snorted.
“What?”
There actually is something missing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Order.”
“Orders?”
“No, order,” he corrected.
“I don’t understand.”
“The one thing missing from this place is order,” he said flatly. “Because ever since Carmen left, things have gone completely off the rails.”
THREE
I thought about Davis’s comment as I walked home. He’d said order was missing from the restaurant ever since Carmen had left. Who was Carmen? A chef? A server? I had no idea. One thing I did know was that I hadn’t noticed anything amiss during my visits to The Perfect Catch. Granted, I always got my food to go, but still…if the restaurant was falling apart as Davis implied, I’d think I’d notice at least small signs of this.
I grimaced. Actually, no, I probably wouldn’t. I’d been there all of four times, and three of those visits had consisted of standing at the hostess station and waiting for Maggie to retrieve my order. I had no idea what the climate of that place was, just as I had no idea what money Jonah had been referring to, or if it was even missing, as he’d originally said.
As soon as I got home, I parked myself at the dining room table and dug into my now lukewarm clam chowder. Trixie sat patiently next to me, then put her head in my lap when no food as immediately forthcoming. I fished out a few bits of potato and fed them to her. I was pretty sure she would eat anything I offered, especially considering I hadn’t found a food yet that she hadn’t gobbled down.
“Do you like clam chowder?” I asked her.
She just stared at me with her big brown eyes, silently begging for more. I gave her one final piece of potato. I loved her, but she wasn’t getting one more bite of my clam chowder. It still tasted great, despite the fact that it was long past piping hot.
I scraped my plastic bowl clean, much to my dog’s dismay. She followed me around the house, probably hoping I had some extra pieces of potato tucked into my pockets, but I ignored her and did my best to put Jonah and his restaurant out of my mind for the rest of the afternoon, too. Instead, I tried to focus on cleaning and then, when I was done with that, making some adjustments to the free web site I was building for The Woof Pack, the little business I’d started. I didn’t have a huge skillset when it came to designing websites, much less running a business, but I was determined to do everything I could to help make this endeavor of mine a success.
Before I knew it, it was late afternoon and time to collect Duke for his second walk. Asher was at his office today, even though I hadn’t seen him that morning when I stopped in to get Duke and he wasn’t behind his desk when I popped in to grab his dog a second time.
He was there, however, when we returned from our walk, and I felt the familiar rush of butterflies as he looked up from a stack of papers in front of him and smiled at me.
“You’re the best,” he said, when he saw his very tired black lab come trotting toward him.
I blushed. What on earth was I supposed to say to a comment like that?
Asher ruffled Duke’s ears for a minute and I watched as the dog gazed adoringly at him, his tail thumping the floor. I was sure there were days when I looked at Asher the same way.
“Feels like forever since I’ve been able to spend time with this guy,” Asher said as he scratched Duke’s back. He glanced my direction. “And you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Me?
Asher smiled, that smile that had enough electricity to power a city, and my knees actually wobbled.
“I had a great time at dinner the other night,” he said. “I was sort of hoping we could do it again sometime.”
Mutely, I nodded. But inside, I was bursting. He was still thinking about our dinner at the Burger Barn, even though it had been weeks ago.
He sighed. “But I’ve just been so busy. I have projects coming at me from all directions.”
I finally managed to find my voice. Business was something I felt confident I could talk about. “What kinds of things are you working on?”
“Too many,” he said with a wry smile. He picked up a stack of folders and tapped them against the desk, as if he were trying to bring them into a neater pile. “Real estate development, mostly. I have a condo building in Savannah that we’re waiting to get the green light on. All those trips to the city have been centered around that.”
“That sounds exciting.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This part of the process—the negotiations and the contracts and the permits—is not exciting. Once we get things up and going and building actually begins, then I’ll get excited.”
“Is that the only one? You mentioned multiple projects.”
“Multiple, yes.” He picked up the folder on the top of the pile and opened it. “This is the one currently taking up far too much of my time.”
I leaned forward just a little. “What’s it for?”
“A place sort of like this,” he said, motioning to the room we were in. He flipped the folder around, holding the top page securely so that I could see it. From where I was standing, it looked like an intricate set of blueprints. “Beachfront condos.”
“Here on Sweetwater?”
His expression clouded. “No. Up closer to Beaufort and Charleston. On Bingley Island.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I had no idea what the island looked like and I certainly wouldn’t have been able to find it without a map.
“You don’t sound very excited about it,” I commented.
Asher picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “I am. Or I will be. It’s just taking me away from home a lot more than I would like.” He reached down and stroked Duke’s fur. “I don’t like leaving him alone.”
“Yeah, I could see how that would be hard.” I would have the same problem leaving Trixie. With my best human friend living in Minneapolis, my dog had become my constant companion. I often talked to her more on a daily basis than I did people.
Asher’s gaze returned to me. “And I don’t like being away from here for other reasons, too.”
I shifted my gaze to the bank of windows behind him, focusing my attention on the sweeping view of the Atlantic Ocean as I tried not to read too much into what he’d just said. The words were vague enough to mean any number of things.
But his expression told me exactly what he was referring to.
Me.
He cleared his throat, and I immediately wondered if he knew how his words were affecting me. How conflicted I was over what I thought might be trying to blossom between us.
“I hate to do this, but I have to get going. A business partner of mine is expecting me. A late afternoon meeting. Again.”
Relief pulsed through me as I reached down for Trixie’s leash and pulled her back toward me. “Don’t let me keep y
ou,” I said.
He murmured something under his breath, something I couldn’t quite hear.
My cheeks warmed and my insides felt like mush, because I was pretty sure whatever he’d said was about me.
“Have a good meeting,” I said. For some reason, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Asher smiled, a softer, slower one this time. “Can’t wait.”
I gulped and pivoted toward the door, ready to sprint like an Olympian competing in the 100-meter dash.
As soon as I was outside, I took a few deep, calming breaths.
I needed to figure out a way to get my emotions and feelings under control. I couldn’t melt into a puddle of goo every single time Asher looked at me a certain way.
But more importantly, I had to decide what I wanted from him.
There had been nothing overt in his words, but if I was reading his other signs correctly, he was telling me loud and clear that he was interested in me.
The ball was in my court…and if it wasn’t, it was going to be lobbed in my direction soon enough.
I just had to make sure I knew what I was going to do with it when it landed on my side of the net.
FOUR
Trixie wasn’t ready to head home after we dropped Duke off.
She tugged at the leash, her attempt to pull me toward the beach. Lucky for her, I wasn’t in the mood to protest. Despite being the middle of summer, the late day heat for once wasn’t oppressive and the prospect of slipping out of my tennis shoes and onto the sand didn’t feel like equivalent of walking across hot coals.
“Okay,” I told her. “We can go.”
I let her lead the way, past Asher’s condo building and toward the sidewalk that snaked its way past palmettos and sea grass, finally stopping at a vast expanse of pristine alabaster sand. Umbrellas and beach chairs offered bright pops of color, although I saw Tate was already in the process of putting away some of these items. I was sure the number of people I was seeing still lounging on the sand or splashing in the water paled in comparison to how many had been out at midday.
Harry, Tate’s golden retriever, hurtled toward us with his fluffy tail waving like a flag. Trixie whined and strained at her leash, anxious to greet her friend, but I held firm.
“Let her run,” Tate called.
I frowned. “But it’s not off-leash hours yet.”
Even from a distance, I could see the grin flash across his face. “No one is gonna care.” He motioned to his own dog running free for emphasis.
I glanced at Trixie. I knew she was itching to go. After a moment’s hesitation, I reached down and unclipped her from the lead and she and Harry bounded off down the beach, zigzagging their way toward the water.
Tate had two umbrellas, one tucked under each arm as he made his way toward the storage shed.
I set my shoes down on the sand. “You want some help?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Kyle should be back any minute to help.”
I assumed Kyle was one of the high school kids who helped Tate out on a semi-regular basis. I’d seen a few different guys working with him over the summer and figured he probably had a steady rotation of kids to accommodate their own families’ summer vacation schedules.
“How’ve you been?” Tate asked, as soon as he’d deposited the umbrellas into the shed. He pushed the hair off his face and smiled again. “Haven’t seen you down here in a few days.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s been too hot.”
This was the truth. I’d slowly gotten acclimated to the heat and humidity that came with South Carolina summers but there were some days where the air was so thick and the heat so oppressive that it was all I could do to get the dogs out for their twice daily walks. Visiting the beach held no appeal during those times, especially since I didn’t particularly enjoy going in the water. I was all for walking the shoreline but rarely ventured out into the waves. The fear of stingrays and jellyfish and other creatures that could bite or sting me was always front and center in my mind.
Trixie was now another story, though. The dog that had been deathly afraid of water her whole life had broken through her fears after jumping into the bone-shaped pool at Poppy’s Puppy Palace to help me apprehend the person responsible for Tony Lamotte’s death. After that, she decided she loved water, as evidenced by the fact that she and Harry were currently splashing their way through the waves, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beneath the waves. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
Tate grabbed a beach chair and snapped it closed. He was wearing his typical work attire, shorts and a simple t-shirt, which offered the distinct advantage of showing off his tanned legs and toned forearms. His light brown hair had brightened considerably over the last couple of months, and the late afternoon sun glinted off those streaks of blond hair, further drawing my attention to them.
“So what have you been up to?” he asked. “Anything exciting?”
“Not really. Just walking dogs and working on growing my business.”
He tucked the chair into the storage unit, stacking it on top of several others that had already been put away. “How’s that going? Any new customers?”
I nodded. “Dempsey.”
His brow furrowed. “Dempsey? I don’t think I know him. Is he new to the island?”
I chuckled. “Dempsey is the dog. Rudy Sanders owns him.”
He nodded. “Ah, okay. I think I know him. Older guy? Receding hairline?”
“That’s him.”
Tate walked a short distance away and plucked an umbrella from the sand. “Anyone else?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. But I’m working on it,” I said, thinking about how I’d spent the better part of my afternoon.
“Good. And any more hassles with Poppy?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That is a surprise.”
He wasn’t wrong. Since my return to Sweetwater Island, Poppy Ritter had been anything but welcoming, and had actually done her fair share to make my life as complicated as possible in the couple of months I’d been home. But after the murder mystery at her doggy daycare and spa, and after I’d helped find the true culprit, she’d left me alone. Granted, when I saw her around town, she still didn’t greet me with the expected Southern hospitality and charm, but she also wasn’t shooting daggers at me, either. I called that a success.
“We should find some time to catch up,” Tate said. “Go grab a beer or something.”
It was an innocent suggestion but that didn’t stop my pulse from quickening. I was immediately transported back to my dinner with him at The Perfect Catch, and the hug we’d shared after. The hug that had released a flood of mixed emotions inside of me.
“I’ve got plans tonight and tomorrow,” he said as he grabbed another empty chair. “But maybe later this week? We can see if Betsy is free. I’ve got a couple other friends I’ve been meaning to catch up with, too. I could introduce you to them, expand your circle here on the island.”
A new cocktail of emotions ricocheted through me: gratitude at Tate’s thoughtfulness, and anticipation—both good and bad—at the prospect of meeting new people. And, if I was being honest, a tiny stab of disappointment that what he was referring to was most definitely not something he considered to be a date.
“That sounds nice,” I told him, because he was still looking at me, waiting for a response.
He grinned. “Good. I know Jonah has some good happy hour specials,” he said. “Let’s figure out a date soon and get it on the calendar.”
“Speaking of Jonah…”
I was quiet for a minute and Tate looked at me, a quizzical expression on his face.
“What about him?”
I focused on digging my toes into the sand. I wasn’t sure if it was my place to bring up the conversation I’d had with Jonah earlier in the day. “You’re good friends with him, right?”
Tate shrugged. “I guess. Why?”
“We’re not like best friends or anything, but yeah, I consider him a friend. Why? What’s going on?”
“Has he…has he mentioned anything about some money going missing?”
Tate narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that?” His voice was almost sharp, which caught me by surprise.
I’d now dug my toes so deep I’d reached wet sand. “I was there picking up some lunch—”
“I thought you didn’t like seafood.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I don’t,” I admitted. “But I do like their clam chowder.”
The satisfied smile on his face was enough to make me break into a grin, too.
“I won’t say ‘I told you so.’” His smile stretched from ear to ear. “But that doesn’t explain how you knew about the money.”
So he wasn’t disputing Jonah’s money was missing. Which meant he knew about it.
I forged ahead. “I had a to-go order. I was leaving and I saw Jonah pacing outside, at the back door of the restaurant. He looked really upset so I asked him what was wrong.”
Tate raised an eyebrow. “And he told you?”
“He mentioned something about the money all being gone. But then when I started asking questions, like if he meant the restaurant was robbed or something, he clammed up.”
Tate just gave a small nod.
“So what was he talking about? What money was missing?”
He hesitated.
My imagination was operating at full throttle. “Was it a worker? Did someone steal from the till or something? Maybe the safe?”
“No, nothing like that,” Tate said, shaking his head.
“Then what?”
He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, brushing it off his forehead. It promptly flopped back down. “I don’t know if I should say anything…”
“Oh.” I suddenly felt stupid for bringing it up. Of course he wouldn’t want to tell me. Of course it wasn’t my business. I wasn’t Jonah’s friend. I was barely even Tate’s.
Tate must have noticed something in my expression, or maybe he could read my mind because he quickly added, “It has nothing to do with you, I promise. It’s just…I think he’s a little embarrassed by what happened.”
