“Fiona,” I groaned. “Who are you planning on killing?”

She stopped, luckily, since I didn’t like my chances if she decided to fight me on it.

Her glower deepened as she focused on my face. “Nathan,” she spat out the name like it tasted bitter. “He’s the one who did this, isn’t he? That fucking cunt!”

Fiona, being Australian, used the ‘C’ word daily, which, apparently, was the norm for those hailing from the Southern Hemisphere. She’d also educated me on the use of it. A ‘soft T’ was meant to be some kind of compliment, like “he’s a good cunt,” and the ‘hard T’ was meant as an insult, like “he’s a fucking cunt.”

This was certainly a ‘hard T’ moment.

“Nathan didn’t do this, if he’s the cunt you’re referring to,” I informed her.

Her brow lifted. “Rigggght, like there is some other man who is small enough and disgusting enough to use violence against a woman who dumped him instead of taking it like a man,” she ranted. “Or I should say, taking it like a woman since men never take rejection or any kind of setback well. Women are the ones who properly deal with shit. Continue on.”

“Nathan didn’t do this,” I repeated.

Her glower did not waver in the slightest. “You mean to tell me that Nathan was not in your presence when that happened?” She motioned to what was a pretty impressive black eye.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I could not tell her that.

Fiona took my pause as some kind of confirmation that Nathan was the one who’d hurt me.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she seethed.

I gripped her harder to ensure she did not go in search of weapons again. I’d never seen Fiona truly mad before. It was scary and touching. She would go to battle for me, in an instant. As I would for her, of course. But she’d be a lot more successful.

“Fiona,” I said gently. “Nathan was in my presence when this happened, but he didn’t do it… technically.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes. “You better explain quick, or I’m going to get some knives."

So, I did. Explain. Which didn’t really do much to quell Fiona’s fury. In the end, she was still set on killing Nathan. As was Tina, who didn’t help at all because she actually owned a firearm, but luckily, she had a somewhat cooler head about it.

Tina’s solution had been contacting an outlaw motorcycle club she was in touch with and letting them deal with Nathan.

So, I had to talk her down from that too. Luckily, the bakery needed opening and customers needed serving, so there was ample distraction for them. Both of them had been muttering threats all day, though. They weren’t worried that Nathan technically hadn’t laid a hand on me.

It had been a whirlwind day. I’d slept in, which was unheard of for me.

The classical music of my alarm clock was much too soft to pull me out of the deep unconsciousness I’d lapsed into after finally falling into a restless sleep last night. I supposed the amount of booze I’d consumed had helped that. I wasn’t a spirit girl usually, but that was mostly because I hadn’t experienced a situation that called for spirits. Unless I was making my bourbon pumpkin pie with pecan streusel for Thanksgiving.