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“No,” Judge said simply, earning a middle finger from Glitch.
We made our way through the building with enough ease to show he’d taken that way before. He opened a door, kicking the wooden wedge out of the way so it would close behind us.
“Where’re we going?” I asked as we walked through an office.
“The bakery.” He pushed another door open.
Holy shit, it’s like the Labyrinth in here. If two of the doors start talking about how one always tells the truth and the other always lies, I’m outta here before I get accosted by Bowie’s bulge.
We stepped into a kitchen, and I saw the ‘back way’ wasn’t a rear entrance.
It was a side one that connected the garage to the bakery.
What the hell did this place used to be?
Going through yet another swinging door, we ended up behind the counter of the bakery.
Other than a wall with a mural of the bakery name and logo, the storefront was slate gray. There were a few brightly colored tables, chairs, and decor.
And people.
A shit-ton of them, including three women behind the counter.
Well, there go my concerns about standing out.
And my theory about being the best dressed.
A super pretty woman with black hair, gorgeous tattoos, and a cute apron over her even cuter outfit turned and smiled at Judge. “Tell your asshole brother I’ve gooooot…” Her word stretched before trailing off when her eyes landed on me. Not moving her eyes away, she reached out and whacked the redhead who was taking orders next to her.
“Here we fuckin’ go,” Judge muttered. “Way they gossip, I’m surprised no one texted before we got over here.”
“They might’ve, I haven’t checked my phone.” She smacked the other woman again.
Not looking up from the box she was closing, the redhead said, “Hitting employees violates labor laws.”
“You don’t work here,” the brunette working the register pointed out.
“Then me working right now definitely violates labor laws.” After handing the box off to the customer, the redhead turned around to glare, but her eyes went wide when they landed on me.
Rye’s bartender.
Big city, small world.
Trying to break the staring contest and test the waters, I gave them a little wave. “Hi.”
That did the trick, and the redhead grinned. “It’s the badass commando.” I started to look questioningly at Judge, but she laughed. “I’m talking about you. Rhys said you kicked that dude in his,” her eyes shot to the line that included kids, “cookies. Good for you. Security is good, but sometimes jerks get away with too much.”
At the mention of the asshole, Judge’s arm tightened around me, his body going rigid. I curled into him, resting my hand on his abs soothingly.
And, fine, maybe a little possessively.
I was positive he wouldn’t knowingly bring me around someone he’d slept with—or their friends—but it could happen unintentionally. And since I couldn’t get a vibe on the room, I was feeling uncharacteristically territorial.
Both women’s eyes dropped to take it all in, but neither appeared upset—for themselves or on behalf of the girl-code.
“You told me that part,” the black-haired woman said, “but not that she was with Judge.”
“Yes, I did,” the redhead insisted.
