Best Served Cold

Sometimes you needed to justify things to your future self. Like wearing white pants or leaving home without a tampon.

Both of which were stupid ideas, for what it’s worth. Especially if you did both on the same day.

Sophie’s text came back pretty quickly.

Sophie: OMG. UNICORN ICE CREAM. YES. DO IT.

Well, that was that, wasn’t it?

I texted back a smiley face and put the lid on the tub so I could put it in the proper freezer. After doing that and tidying up, I grabbed my phone and purse and headed out to get some lunch.

Daley’s Café was at the other end of Main Street. It was a quaint little place, one that was truly worthy of social media obsessions, but I was glad it wasn’t. It meant I could walk in there right now and get a sandwich and a coffee and move on with more renovations during the afternoon.

I pushed open the door and welcomed the blast of air conditioning that came at me. Summer was almost right upon us, and I was already over the thick, humid air that circled every inch of the island.

I closed the door behind me and walked right up to the counter. It was busy with barely any tables left empty, but I was lucky that everyone was already sitting down.

Jenna Portman flashed me a smile, her eyes crinkling. “Raelynn. How are ya, honey?”

“I’m good, thanks, Mrs. Portman. How are you?”

“Truckin’ along, honey. I’m all right. What can I get for ya?” Her ruby-red lips spread into a wide smile that made her coffee-brown eyes sparkle.

I peered at the sandwiches she had available. “I’ll have the tuna-cucumber baguette, please. And a latte.”

“You got it, honey.”

I swear, not even bees used the word ‘honey’ as much as she did.

Husband? You were honey. Stranger? You were honey. President of the United States? You were honey.

Hell, the Queen of England would be honey to her.

She handed me the pre-wrapped sandwich and turned to make the latte. “So, I hear you’re renovatin’ that shop of yours.”

I guess news traveled fast when you put a big sign up with “CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS” in Sharpie.

“Yep. Decided it was finally time to bring it into the twenty-first century.” I rested against the side of the counter.

She shot me a look over her shoulder. “Nothin’ to do with that ex of yours bein’ next door?”

“If it was, I’d have done it when the asshole opened two years ago.”

“Tell me how you really feel about him.”

“If I didn’t think I’d scare off your customers, I would.” I smirked and handed her my card.

Her tinkling laugh rang out through the café, and I smiled as I took back my card and grabbed my lunch.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, honey. There’s an empty seat over the back there.” She nodded, and I glanced over at the spot she’d motioned toward.

I gave her another smile and “thank you” and headed for the empty table. After I got settled, I unwrapped my sandwich and brought up the Etsy site on my phone to browse through stuff for the store.

I munched my way through my sandwich and contemplated buying fairy lights. But since I had the ice cream lights, did I need them? Was there such a thing as too many lights?

The lights were cute, though. Maybe I could string them along the high-top counter and the ordering counter. That was an option. Since I was going pastel colors and unicorn ice cream, I wanted a dreamy, fairytale-style store.

There was nothing more magical than fairy lights.

Except, you know, fairies. Not that there was any proof of their existence.

Which circled back to my original point, but I digress.

I added them to my basket just in case I decided to buy them later.

“Mind if I sit here?”

I froze.

“I’m gonna sit anyway,” Chase said. “There’s nowhere else empty.”

Jerking my head around, I glared at him and motioned toward the empty chair opposite me. I barely paid him any attention as he sat and I turned back to my phone.

I was going to buy the fairy lights. Too much sparkle be damned.

Was there such a thing as too much sparkle?

Why was I so worried about things being too much? If they were, I could take them down.

Damn it. I was overthinking literally all of this.

Business was hard.

“How are the renovations going?” Chase asked.

I glanced up. “Haven’t started.”

His lips curved into a half-smile. “When are you starting?”

“Soon.”

“How much are you changing?”

“Lots.”

“How long until you’re open again?”

“Not sure.”

He pushed his coffee to the side and leaned forward on the table. His toned arm muscles stretched against his black t-shirt, and his bright blue-green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Wow. That’s the most you’ve spoken to me in at least a year. And you graced me with two linked words? I’m honored.”

I glared at him. He was getting on my nerves. I was sure he only sat at this table because I was here—I’d watched him for months as he’d taken his lunch back to the store. He had to walk past Best Served Cold, so I knew he’d done this deliberately.