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That’s my first thought, but because fate hates my guts lately, it’s not just a run-of-the-mill straggler looking for a cake pop after close.
It’s Big Fish, and he looks about as pissed as humanly possible for a man sculpted by the gods.
I thought I’d already seen him hit peak grump-mode when I delivered that batch of cakes to his office, but no.
There’s apparently a higher setting where his ragey blue eyes make it impossible to predict if he’s about to chew me out or throw me against the wall and devour me.
Even better, Nana whirls around at the sound and sees him standing there, casually sucking up oxygen like the intimidating mega-prick he is.
I’ve been ignoring him for days. I’m ready for him to let loose and rip into me, to go off, to throw something.
What I’m not expecting is to see his lips twitch as this human dragonsmilesat my grandmother.
Oh, crud.
“Hold up. Are you the famous Jo Winkley? Juniper’s grandmother?” He strides forward, offering her a hand like he’s been waiting half his life. I think I’m traumatized because the room starts spinning. “I’m Dexter Rory. It’s amazing to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard so much—all good things, of course.”
Oh God, oh God, what is he—
“It’s such an honor,” he continues, still with that serpentlike smile on his lips, “to shake the hand of the woman who put the Sugar Bowl on the map. And, dare I say, who brought Juniper tumbling into my life.”
What the actual hell?
My knees give out.
I have to be dreaming.
I lean against the table and pinch myself in the arm.Hard.
Bad move. That doesn’t get me anything except a bruise as this smiling maniac sweet-talks my Nana with a gentle personality he should win an award for faking.
This is bad.
So bad.
Then Nana smiles and breaks into a loud laugh and everything gets worse.
Insanely worse when Irecognizethat laugh.
I’ve heard it over the years, though it’s not usually aimed at anyoneIknow. But right now, it’s a death sentence.
It means she flipping likes him.
“Why, thank you. I didn’t know my Junie made time for charming young men,” she says too loudly, glancing back at me with her eyebrows ready to fly off her face. “How come you hide the nice ones, darling?”
“Juniper—Junie—she’s a funny one. I’m afraid you’ll have to decide who’s the bigger workaholic between us,” he says with a low, almost vicious chuckle. I’ve never heard this man laugh. I didn’t think hecould. “Still, we’ve been dating for—what, about half a year, Junie? It’s high time to meet the Sugar Bowl original.”
Dating.
I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.
But Gran gasps even louder than me. “Dating! Oh, my. Oh, Junie, you never said—how could you? Leaving your poor grandmother flapping in the wind…”
“Um. Um!” My brain won’t work, much less my tongue.
Even my lungs are fried. I’m about to pass out.
My palms sweat as I grasp at the counter for more support, the only reason I’m not sprawled out on the floor.
