“It’s 9:30. Deedy made breakfast, and yours is cold. I’ll warm your coffee up, just come share your beautiful face with us.”

I shoot up, batting at the matted hair on my face. “9:30? Shit! I’m going to be late.”

“Late for what?”

I stumble toward my suitcase, rifling through its contents. “I’m supposed to meet Bethanne at the cafe at ten.”

“Deedy’s neighbor?”

After failing to find my Alexis floral romper, I unzip my second suitcase. Of course, it’s at the bottom. “Yes. Bethanne works at that Sage Leaf Cafe. She’s finding Swarley and me a ride to L.A. so you don’t have to stress over me going by myself.”

I shove him toward the door. “I have to get ready. My makeup will be hideous at this rate and don’t even get me started on my hair.”

“But Ave—”

Click.

I jump into my outfit, paint on a terribly hurried layer of makeup, a little antiperspirant, and gather my long hair into a messy bun before flying past my dad and Deedy canoodling on the sofa, straight out the door. “Would someone feed Swarley?” I call just before the door shuts behind me.

Chapter Four

I make it to the cafe by 10:05. Deedy probably would have loaned me her car, but I haven’t decided if I’m ready to ask her for favors. She might misconstrue my desperateness as approval of her engagement to my dad.

My lonely dad … I still can’t shake the guilt from Bethanne’s revelation.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I forgot to set my alarm, and my body is on West Coast time, and—”

Bethanne waves off my apologies. “It’s fine. I’m running a few minutes late for break anyway. We’re pretty chill around here.” She slides a pile of chopped mango into a container and snaps the lid on it.

I glance around at the vacant cafe. “Are you open?”

She laughs. “Yes. We survived the morning rush, and in about an hour we’ll be filled to capacity with the early lunch crowd.”

“Huh … the one in L.A. is always packed.”

“Milwaukee isn’t L.A.”

I nod. “You can say that again.”

“Can I get you a drink? Some breakfast?”

“I’m good. Well … maybe a cup of coffee?”

“You got it.” She gets my coffee as I climb onto a barstool.

“I have coconut sugar, almond or coconut creamer, cinnamon …”

“Black is great.” I take a cautious sip.

“Well, since you’re the only customer at the moment, I’ll get Jake and we’ll get your travel dilemma fixed.”

“Jake? Wait … why do you need him—”

Mr. Tatted Muscle Man saunters through the door from the kitchen, looking all showered and sexy. Not sexy. Gah! Why did I think that?