Page 26 of Death of a Grill Master

Hayley crossed her arms, heart pounding. “This is going to be a problem.”

Earl gave her a sympathetic look. “I know.”

She stared back at the building.

Sergio had been her ally. Caleb Maddox was going to be something else entirely.

An obstacle.

And Hayley Powell had never let an obstacle stop her before.

Chapter 9

At 8:03 a.m. on a bright, crisp morning, Jordan’s Restaurant was already packed with post–Labor Day tourists elbow-deep in syrup and locals clutching mugs of black coffee like life preservers. Servers darted between tables, hollering greetings over the low hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery. A little girl at the next booth kept shaking her tiny bottle of maple syrup like it was a maraca. A pair of hungover tourists in matching “Bar Harbor Is My Happy Place” hoodies were passing around aspirin like candy.

And at the corner booth by the window, Hayley was buttering toast and trying to look innocent.

“You’re using me for information,” Earl grumbled, sliding stiffly into the seat across from her. He was still in uniform—pressed navy shirt, badge gleaming, and a fresh coffee stain already blooming on one sleeve.

“Of course I am,” Hayley said cheerfully. “But I’m also buying you breakfast.”

“I’m on my way to the station. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Hayley gestured to the laminated menu. “And yet you are. Because Mona told you to be.”

As if summoned, Mona appeared beside their table, removing her sunglasses and planting herself firmly at the edge of the booth like a stern school principal.

“Don’t give me that look, Earl. Hayley’s my best friend. If this is ever going to work between us, you need to charm the people I love.”

Earl sighed. “I’m charming.”

Hayley grinned. “You’re … housebroken.”

“You ordered me pancakes, didn’t you?”

Hayley didn’t answer, just gave a sly smile as a waitress slid a heaping plate of double-stack blueberry pancakes in front of him, syrup already pooled around the edges like a moat.

Just the way he liked them.

Earl stared down at them, visibly wavering. “Damn it.”

Hayley leaned forward. “They’re fresh. Bursting with wild Maine blueberries. Fluffy, golden brown, buttery edges …”

“I get it,” Earl said, already picking up his fork.

Mona leaned in, kissed the top of his head. “I’ve gotta go unload the boat. You behave.”

And with that, she was gone.

Hayley sipped her coffee. “So. You miss Sergio yet?”

Earl wiped his mouth and gave her a sidelong glance. “We all do. But it’s not our choice.”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “That new guy—Caleb Maddox? He’s a robot in designer shoes.”

“Yeah, I gotta admit, he’s … a tough nut to crack.”

“Is that what we’re calling arrogant and insufferable now?”