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PAIGE
“Muffin Top?” Oliver reads the sign aloud.
“Don’t let the name fool you,” I say from the sidewalk outside. “It’s the best coffee in Boston and the only bakery in town worth mentioning. The owner is very nice to look at, too.”
He raises a brow, intrigued.
A bell chimes above our heads as we step inside.
“Hello!” a deep voice bellows from the room behind the counter.
We walk around the small tables, most of them occupied, and my nose tingles with delight the entire way toward the counter.
Muffin Top is the best.
A man steps out from the kitchen wearing a tight T-shirt and old blue jeans. A bit of ink peeks out from under his shirt on his thick bicep, a tattoo he shares with Ira Botsford; an anchor in ocean waves.
“Hi, Vincent!” I greet.
He looks at me and smiles. “Oh, hey, Paige! Welcome back.” He nods at Oliver. “How are you?”
“I’m excellent. How are you?”
“Having a good night. Bit busy, but that’s fine.”
“I can imagine.” I bend over to scan the arrangement of pastries beneath the counter. “And now, I’m extra excellent now that I see you’ve got one last cherry cupcake left.”
Vincent laughs. “Saved it just for you.” He opens the display and grabs a pastry box to place it in. “Where’s Graham tonight?” he asks, giving Oliver another curious glance.
“Back in Vegas being his badass CEO-self, but he says hi.” I pat Oliver’s arm. “This is Oliver, his replacement. Oliver, this is Vincent, the owner of this fine establishment.”
Oliver extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.
“You, too,” Vincent says.
“Ah, you weren’t kidding,” Oliver says to me. “He is nice to look at.”
I grin. “I never lie about the important things,” I say.
Vincent releases Oliver’s hand as his face contorts with confusion. “What?” he asks.
“Never mind,” I say. “Can I get a vanilla mocha with that, please?”
“Sure.” He nods at Oliver. “Anything for you?”
“I’ll take the same,” he replies.
“Coming right up.”
Vincent steps back to fetch our coffees.
I lower my voice. “Vincent used to work with Ira,” I say.
Oliver blinks twice. “Work with Ira?”
“Work with Ira,” I repeat.
“As in highly classified operations in redacted locations with Navy SEALS? That kind of work with Ira?”
