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woman was stressed out about something, and if it had anything to do with her father, he needed to find out. “My sister doesn’t always turn on the charm so much to strangers. If you have time, come in and try the muffins.”
    Sebastian’s business didn’t require coffee and muffins, but Skye didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she took Candy out of her sister’s arms, avoided a lick across the face as she gently placed the dog on the ground, and guided both the dog and her sister into the coffee house.
    Aw hell. Fuck me to hell , Sebastian thought, as he followed them in the direction of their picture-perfect, white-on-creamy-white coffee house. He stepped on the porch, while Spring held open the door. Aromas of cinnamon, vanilla, and baked apple greeted him.
    At the threshold he glanced back at the street. The Range Rover was on a jack, and Pete was unscrewing a lug nut. For a second, Sebastian wished that he were the one changing the tire. Trendy coffee houses normally seemed stuffy, overcrowded, and pretentious. Yet this one, painted in shades of white and cream, had high ceilings that gave it a spacious feel. Two seating areas, with tables and chairs, bordered a wide aisle that led to the counter. Overstuffed chairs faced large marble fireplaces that were on either side of the cottage. Ottomans and lamps made the place look homey and inviting.
    “Sarah will get you anything that you’d like,” Skye said, glancing at the trim gray-haired lady who’d been on the porch as he delivered the dog. Sarah was behind the counter, above which a large chalkboard hung. Neat, handwritten block letters provided a myriad of coffee offerings, all of which seemed too complicated for his taste. Skye turned to Spring and pointed to circular stairs in the back corner. “Better get cleaned up before the delivery.”
    “Sarah,” Spring called out before disappearing up the stairs. “Give him one of each of the morning muffins. He’s doing a taste test.”
    Sarah gave him a nod as he walked towards the counter. “Muffins,” she said, with a pleasant smile, “and what kind of coffee?”
    “Double shot of espresso with a splash of cream.”
    “Take a seat,” she smiled. “I’ll bring it to you.”
    Sebastian would rather stand. He wasn’t there to socialize. Ask a few questions, get the necessary answers, and get the hell out of Mayberry. That had been the plan.
    Instead he was stuck in an unfamiliar world, where gleaming glass cases displayed neat rows of muffins, decorated in a riot of color that made his eyes linger. An open kitchen with stainless steel appliances and large ovens was in the back of the counter. The man who had been on the porch with Sarah was there, pouring batter into pans. To the side of the kitchen was a hallway, a back door, and on the opposite side of the hallway, another room, with a large glass window that looked out on the coffee shop. He walked to the window. On a table sat a three-tier cake and what looked like clusters of turquoise-colored berries nestled in orange leaves. A vase of flowers stood—he presumed for inspiration—on the counter near the side of the cake. Sebastian wondered idly if the younger sister might be colorblind.
    He made his way into one of the seating areas and sank into an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. It was angled so he had a view of the stairs and the business counter. He almost sighed, as it conformed to his body. Random chairs normally didn’t fit his tall frame so well. He accepted the espresso from Sarah, along with a plate of still-warm muffins. “Thank you.”
    She smiled and pointed to one of the muffins. “My vote is for this one, the apple.”
    His appetite, like other basic necessities of life, had been nonexistent since July. Lack of an appetite didn’t keep him from eating, though. Food was fuel, and he needed plenty of it to stay at his optimum weight, somewhere right above two hundred and ten. After July, he had learned to graze all day,