Tymber Dalton - It’s a Sweet Life

Ben looked back down at his paper and nodded. “Sure.

Whatever.”

“Grouch.”

Ben didn’t respond. Instead, he forced himself to finish his omelet and not listen to the happy chirruping from the booth across the restaurant.

Neither brother had ever been to Brooksville before. Allan had wanted to stop in Tampa, but Ben overruled him. Allan had learned 36 Tymber Dalton

early in life not to push Ben when his mind was made up. All it would lead to was a fight. As they drove from the hotel into town, Allan admitted Ben made a good choice. The quiet town had the basic amenities such as a couple of large discount stores, but still maintained its rural, Old South charm.

As they followed up on a couple of rental leads from the paper, Allan let Ben take charge. Ben had always taken charge, something else Allan felt a little guilty about. He envied his brother the ability to wade into a situation and settle it. It was what made Ben a good cop, and an even better detective. People listened to Ben. He had a way about him that commanded respect and attention without being douchey.

Allan never had that. It was why he decided on law instead of becoming a cop. He knew he didn’t have the stomach for the on-the-edge work like Ben did.

Allan thrived on the details, the fine print, delving into the law and careful researching and pulling together cases to sway a judge and jury his way. He didn’t mind standing up in court and giving opening or closing statements, or questioning witnesses. There were rules and procedures and…safety. In a courtroom, he took charge and kicked butt.

Kicking in a door, however, would probably get him killed.

Allan studied Ben as he drove. With Ben’s deep undercover work, they hadn’t spent a lot of time together for the past three years, although they had talked on the phone at least once a week. As far as Allan knew, Ben hadn’t even taken a full vacation in the past several years. He’d been known to the mobsters as Frankie Ruggiero and played the part well.

Sometimes, Allan barely recognized his brother’s voice over the phone. Ben had a habit of replicating the New Jersey accent of the criminals he “worked” for. Two different times, Ben had been ordered to “whack” guys suspected of infidelity to the mob family. Ben had successfully flipped them, funneling them into the witness protection It’s a Sweet Life 37

program after faking their deaths.

Working on the other end of the process, Allan knew he was insulated from the dirty, day-to-day struggle the police went through to bring the criminals to his door.

More guilt.

They spent the morning looking at apartments and houses for rent until they ended up in downtown Brooksville, near the town square.

“Where to now?” Allan asked.

“You hungry?”

Allan tried to ignore the gooseflesh that rippled up his back at the way his brother had said it. As if he’d grown up in New Jersey instead of Miami. “I could eat, yeah.”

“I saw a little coffeeshop over there, on the other side of the courthouse.” They found a parking space and walked up to the shop.

The sign read Many Blessings in curly, bright pink letters. From the number of patrons inside, it looked like a popular place.

Ben walked in first. Allan didn’t miss the way his brother quickly scanned the area with a hard, narrowed gaze that swept over the patrons before he stepped forward and let Allan enter behind him.

Allan deeply inhaled the delicious aromas of coffee and tea, along with various scents that reminded him of incense.

Behind the counter, a short, slim woman with brown eyes and long, dark brown hair greeted them with a cheerful smile. “Welcome.

What can I get for you gentlemen today?”

As Allan looked around, he realized the store was more than a coffeeshop. Shelves of books, Tarot card decks, crystals, candles, statues, and other New Age items lined the walls. Several patrons at various tables sat hunched over layouts of Tarot cards while others were immersed in books or on their laptops.

Ben stepped up to the counter. “Large coffee. Black. Whatever the daily special is. And a cheese danish.” He looked at Allan. “You?”

Allan had to focus on Ben’s words. In the background, soft guitar music played through speakers. He’d felt his stress of the past couple 38 Tymber Dalton

of days melt from his shoulders. I could spend hours in here. “Same, please.” He finally looked at the woman helping them and noticed her studying them.

“You guys are new in town, aren’t you?”

Allan sensed Ben tense next to him, so he took over. “Yeah.

Looking to move here. Just got into town and trying to find an apartment.”

The woman’s face brightened even more as she laughed.

“Goddess bless me, that spell worked even faster than I thought it would.” She darted from behind the counter over to a bulletin board, where she unpinned a pink index card from it and brought it back to them. Handing it to Allan, she said, “Go see Libbie Addams. She owns the bakery. I think she closed early today, but if you go around back, I know she’s there. Just knock on the door.” She pointed out the window and across the square to a bakery where It’s a Sweet Life was painted on one window in bright pink and turquoise letters. “I’ll get your orders.”

Allan knew from the look on Ben’s face that he was forcing back a dubious frown. He pulled the card from Allan’s hand and studied it.

“Hmph.”

“Is that a good hmph?” Allan quietly asked.

Ben glared at him. “We’ll check it out.” When the clerk brought them their order and rang them up, Ben held up the card. “What do you know about this woman?”

Allan tried to step on Ben’s foot to warn him to knock it off, but Ben shifted to the right, away from him.

“Oh, Libbie’s a real sweetheart. In fact, we buy all our pastries and stuff fresh from her every day.” The woman’s playful smile turned into a sunburst of a grin. “And I know for a fact that she’s single.”

Allan felt his face heat for a reason he couldn’t fathom. Before he could respond, Ben took their change and grumbled, “Thanks, but we’re gay.”

It’s a Sweet Life

39

The clerk slowly nodded, but the sly smile never left her face. She winked at Allan. “Uh-huh. If you say so, guys. I don’t question people, but I have a feeling you’ll be a good fit for Libbie.”

Allan wanted to say something else, but Ben grabbed one of the coffees and danishes, put them in Allan’s hand, and spun him around toward the door before grabbing his own stuff. “Thanks. We appreciate the lead.”

Outside, Allan quickened his pace to match Ben’s. “‘We appreciate the lead?’ Nice work, Columbo. Like that didn’t make you sound like a cop.”

40 Tymber

Dalton

By noon, the apartment swap had begun. The excess furniture and boxes had been removed from upstairs and hauled over to Grover’s.

As the delicious smell of Grover’s portable barbecue outside the back door mixed with the aromas from the bakery, everyone’s stomachs started growling. Libbie went ahead and shut the bakery down two hours earlier than her normal Saturday closing time and posted a note on the door apologizing for the early closure. They all sat in the shade of the two-car carport behind the building, where the outside stairs ended and keeping the lower back door sheltered from weather.

Normally she parked her car there, but for today it was out of the way at the far edge of the asphalt behind the building.

As she ripped into the brisket Grover had cooked to perfection, she forgot her momentary guilt over closing early. “This is delicious,”

she said. “I’m telling you, you should sell this.”

He laughed. “Naw, that’d be too much like work. I have fun in the bakery with you. I’ve learned a lot about baking. This is going to stay for fun, too.”

When two men walked around the corner and headed their way, Libbie felt her heart race. The same height, a little over six feet tall, even from a distance she could see they both had gorgeous blue eyes.

One was blond under his baseball cap, the other had dark brown hair, neatly trimmed.

Down, girl, she told her libido.

When Grover stood to intercept the men, she sensed his sons tensing, waiting. In school, she’d never been overtly picked on, because the Johnson boys and girls treated her like a sister.

It’s a Sweet Life

41

And no one messed with one of their own.

But when the two strangers showed Grover the pink index card they’d apparently gotten from Mandaline, Grover relaxed. Everyone else took that as a cue they could stand down as well.

Except Libbie.

And as she shoveled a forkful of brisket into her mouth, Grover turned and pointed her out to the men.

Ben wasn’t in the mood to put up with his brother’s crap. “Shut up,” he told Allan. “This place sounds perfect on paper.” He didn’t want to admit that when the clerk’s hand touched his, he’d felt some sort of weird spark, like static electricity. And the woman’s gaze had widened slightly before a beaming smile split her face.

Not to mention he had the distinct feeling she’d suddenly known everything about him, and Allan. Including the fact that they weren’t gay.

That’s stupid. You’re just tired and jittery.

They walked up to the bakery, which, sure enough, was closed. As instructed by the clerk, they found their way to an alley and walked around back where it looked like a regular family party was going on.