His voice lowered the tiniest bit. “—are you doing?”

“Hiding. Obviously,” I stage-whispered. “Keep your voice down and don’t look like you’re talking to me.”

He did neither. “You know, of course, what the next logical question is.”

“Because I don’t want to be seen.”

“Could you be a tad more specific?”

“By my ex-boyfriend and my best friend. Who just came in.”

“Oh.” He glanced around. “Both are here?”

“No, I was thinking they might stop by so I ducked down to test my reflexes. Of course they’re here!”

He shot me another look. “You might want to keep your voice down,” he murmured dryly.

The desire to get the hell out of there was very strong. The question was, how? Going back through the front door was now impossible, but that didn’t leave a lot of options. Once again, Arthur read my mind, not, I suppose, that it was particularly difficult.

“Does that door at the end of the hallway lead outside?” he asked, tipping his head toward the short hallway outside the bathrooms a few feet across from where I was crouching and I felt a bloom of hope. I nodded. “How about I stay to retrieve the order while you sneak out that way like a wanted criminal?”

“Perfect!” I whispered.

He discreetly handed me the key fob and I got a tiny jolt as our fingers touched. He didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll meet you in a few.”

Then he moved slightly to his left to block the space between the display case and the main dining area, giving me cover like the perfect accomplice.

I mouthed a sincere “thank you” and his slight inclination was acknowledgment enough, and if you think my appreciation for all things Arthur grew tenfold with all of this, you’re damn right it did.

But now was not the time for crushing.

I popped up the collar of my woolen coat, pulled my knit hat down low, and scurried across the space from the display to the hallway and out the emergency exit so fast I impressed myself. Not that I planned a future life of crime, but it was good to know I had a skill set I could fall back on should the need arise.

Ten minutes later, Arthur and a sizable carryout bag joined me in the warmth of the Hummer, where I was scrunched down below the window in the passenger seat.

I accepted the pies from him and peered into the bag.

“There are three boxes.”

“Excellent observation.” He started the engine and gave all of his attention to the task of slowly backing out of the parking spaces.

“Did you buy the Jammie Dodgers?”

“Naturally.” He put the Hummer into drive. “Keep down. We’re passing the front of the café . . . aaaand clear. Safety belt on, please.”

I sat up, locking the seat belt into place, and sighed.