Brett Walker stood at the front of the store, his wide shoulders tense and his expression carved from granite. A plastic bag dangled from one of his fists. Uh-oh. Angelica had returned from her trip for coffee thirty minutes before, her usual glow gone. Glory had sent her to the storeroom to handle paperwork because her sad face would have upset the customers—she was that much a favorite. Smiling as if she couldn’t sense his mood, she approached. “Hey, there! How are you?” “Where is she?” Oh, yeah. Here was the source of her friend’s low state. Angelica had hinted that things between her and Brett had become...friendly, and here was evidence that all wasn’t so warm now. “Glory, where is she?” he repeated. “Hi, Glory,” she said in overly cheery tones. “I’m peachy. Yourself?” “I need to talk to Angelica.” He’d completely missed the point. “No social niceties?” “I’m not feeling very nice at the moment.” If he’d already bitten off Angelica’s head, and now thought to take another piece of her, he had another think coming.
