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“It’s my business, Dexter. If anyone’s going to take care of this, it should be me.” I yank my hand from his and grab my poor crumpled cupcake box.
Dexter doesn’t say another word.
He just throws me another brooding look as I storm out of the car and back into the store.
* * *
The park looksbusy for this time of day.
I watch through the windshield, idly sifting through the pile of crumbs for another plate as old men walk their dogs, mothers push their strollers, and young couples glide along the paths hand in hand. In the distance, the pond glints in the sunlight.
The ache in my chest doesn’t ease up one bit.
That argument hurt like hell, almost as much as the big reveal.
It’s not that I’m not used to arguing. I used to bicker with Nana all the time when we lived together. Near the end, Liam and I would have blowout fights over the smallest things. There’d be radio silence until I came back with an apology.
Not this time.
Dexter’s heart might be in the right place, but this is my business and I’m not letting him go it alone.
This is my life being messed with.
And if Haute’s threatening me, I need to know what’s going on so I can take it straight to the police. I have a right to the truth and an obligation to protect my people as their boss.
My phone buzzes with another text from Dexter, who’s probably figured out I’m not at the Sugar Bowl anymore.We’ll talk again tonight. When will you be home?
Maybe he went in and asked for me.
Another reason for the staff to gossip. It was bad enough that Sarah asked if I was okay before I went running out.
I push it out of my mind, though. That’s not the issue here.
Right now, the issue is what Forrest Haute is doing with my desserts.
With my mind made up, I head over to the clubhouse. It’s an obnoxiously large building, even more so now that I’m not here with Dexter, but I avoid the gilded front and head around to the back.
I’m more comfortable here.
The back of buildings like this has their beating heart, and it’s usually made up of normal people.
Custodians, cooks, delivery boys. It’s a hive of activity I recognize.
I park the van slightly back from the road and sit back, watching the loading doors. It’s a long shot, but the boxes were abandoned when Dexter was here, and I might get lucky.
If not, better luck next time.
No way am I letting Haute get away with using my goods to do—God only knows.
My phone lights up with another call.
Dexter must be more worked up than ever. Probably pissed off.
The last thing I need is a snarling grizzly bear at home, but he shouldn’t have told me to back off.
Not when it’s my business. My baby. My everything.
He should know me better by now.
