Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Well, he’ll have to carry me kicking and screaming.
“No. I’ll be staying right here,” I declare, crossing my arms over my chest as I stand in front of Boone. The smell of tomato sauce and pizza dough still lingers in the air. “Thank you very much,” I add, trying not to glare at him. “You can stand guard at the door if you want.”
Boone’s laugh is a deep rumble that makes the floor feel like it vibrates beneath my feet. “I’m not a bouncer,” he says, shaking his head. “This is a serious operation. You’re closing your shop.”
I plant a hand on my hip, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Am not,” I shoot back. This is my pizza shop—my baby. I can’t just shut down and lose sales, possibly more. I still owe rent and have employees to pay.
Before I can argue further, a uniformed police officer steps through the door—carefully, because of the crunch of glass on the tile. His eyes pan across the mess. “Who’s in charge here?”
“I am,” Boone answers immediately, holding his hand out. “Boone Porter, Maddox Security.” His gruff voice and imposing stance say there’s no question about it.
“Um, excuse me?” My cheeks heat as I shove past him, refusing to be sidelined in my own shop. “I’m the owner,” I announce, taking the officer’s hand. “Aubree Ryan. This is my place.”
The officer’s gaze flicks from me to Boone, then back again. It’s obvious he’s not quite sure who to address. Finally, he clears his throat and settles on me. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?”
We spend the next twenty minutes explaining how a brick came flying through the window and nearly scared the life out of everyone. Stuart recounts the moment he heard glass shatter and ducked behind the counter. Earl throws in a few comments about how fast it all happened, and about how he could’ve sworn he saw someone running down the street. Meanwhile, I do my best to stay composed, though my nerves are jangling like crazy.
During that time, Earl slips me his phone number on a scrap of napkin, insisting I call him if I need anything. I catch Boone shooting him a dark look. The second Earl steps away, Boone mutters something about “handing that number over,” but I shove it in my back pocket instead. Earl’s just trying to be nice—and, well, I’m not a big fan of being told what to do, even if Boone does have a commanding presence and gorgeous brown eyes.
When the police officer is done taking statements, he nods at me. “We’ll be in touch if we have any updates, Ms. Ryan.” Then he heads out, presumably to ask around the neighborhood.
With the help of Boone and Stuart, we manage to cover the gaping hole in the window using some old plywood I found in the storeroom from a previous renovation project. It’s not perfect—definitely not the charming vibe I usually aim for—but it’ll have to do until I can afford a proper replacement.
Finally, the adrenaline starts to ebb, and I retreat to my little office to breathe. My hands are shaking as I drop into my squeaky chair. The day was already stressful before this whole mess—now, I’m operating on fumes. I press my palms to my eyes, trying to ward off the headache I know is coming.
I glance at my inbox. The email. I click on it and suck in a deep breath. The message is simple: I’m coming for you.
I quickly shut the computer down and that’s when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen and see my mom’s number. Of course. Molly Hancock—the woman who sees everything from her vantage point at the hair salon next door—must have called her first chance she got.
“Mom?” I answer, my voice still shaky.
“Aubree, dear!” Mom’s frantic tone crackles over the line. “Molly said the police were at your pizza shop. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I say, trying for a reassuring note I don’t quite feel. “Someone threw a brick through the window, that’s all. We covered it up already. I promise, I’m okay.”
She lets out a sharp breath, like she’s trying not to panic. “Honey, that’s terrible. The man from Maddox Security—did he arrive? I know I paid a pretty penny, but it’s worth it if you’re safe.”
I lean my head back against the wall, already dreading this conversation. “Yes,” I huff. “He’s here, and he wants me to shut down the shop and go to a ‘safe house.’ Can you believe that? I can’t just close, Mom. I’d lose so much business—”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she cuts in, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care how much money you lose. Your safety is more important.”