Rock Chick (Rock Chick #1)(83)

I walked out and went to the closet and grabbed a pair of flip flops with ribbon straps with sky-blue funky shapes against khaki. I slid them on, snagged my purse and pulled it on my shoulder. I walked back to the bathroom, snatched up my phone and dropped it in my bag. Then I rested my hip on the edge of the counter and clicked my nails against the top, my other hand on my hip.

And I stared at Lee.

He grabbed a towel, wiped his face and threw it in the sink.

“Hey! You can’t just throw your towel in the sink! Who’s gonna fold that towel and put it back on the rail? I’ll tell you who it won’t be. Me!”

That’s when he grabbed my hips, pulled me to him and grinned.

“You’re tryin’ to break the land speed record for gettin’ an offer to move in rescinded, aren’t you?”

“No. And it was hardly an offer as much as sexual blackmail.”

His grin widened into a smile.

Fucking Lee!

“Hello!” I called. “Fortnum’s? My bread and butter? The family business for the last…” Wow, I didn’t even know how long it had been in the family, I’d have to wing it. “Umpteen years! Crazy Italian guy? Duke’s homicide threat? Ring a bell?”

He drew me closer to him. “Have I told you you’re cute?”

Grr.

* * * * *

We walked into Fortnum’s and my crazy morning got crazier.

Terry Wilcox, Goon Gary and The Moron were all facing off against Duke.

“What’s going on?” I asked when I walked in, my stomach lurching. You could feel the bad energy in the room.

No customers (thank God, kind of) and Jane was nowhere to be seen (thank God again).

“This idiot has brought the Italian guy back after the police took him away. Says he’s a f**king present,” Duke said.

“India. You look well,” Terry Wilcox said, his eyes sliding down the length of me.

Yuck.

I was getting that queasy feeling that my body seemed to save for my encounters with Terry Wilcox. I was hoping they would only number two, this one and the last.

Luckily, Lee’s hand felt warm and strong where it settled at my hip.

“Coxy,” Lee said.

“Lee,” Wilcox replied.

“You know him?” Duke asked.

“Yeah,” Lee said and that one syllable said he didn’t like him much.

Duke moved toward us at the same time that Lee put pressure on me to move behind him. I planted my feet and stayed where I was.

Goon Gary and The Moron were shifting, getting ready for action.

Great. Just what I needed, a brawl in Fortnum’s.

Wilcox decided to play peacemaker.

“There’s no need to get excited, boys,” he said. “India, you said you had a problem, you lost your coffee guy and were losing business. I’ve brought you a new one, from Italy, where they invented espresso. This is Antonio and he’s very talented.”

I looked at a man I hadn’t noticed who was standing behind Goon Gary. He looked like an Italian version of Rosie except better groomed. Slightly better.

The door opened as I was saying, “I don’t need a coffee guy, thanks, we’re covered.”

Then from behind me came, “Uh-oh, major bad vibe. What’s shakin’ now, woman?”

I turned to the door and saw Tex.

Wonderful, it just kept getting better and better. Now Tex was in the mix.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked Tex.

“Came for coffee.”

Of course.

“How’d you get here?”

“Drove. I have a car, but I usually let the neighbors use it.”

I gaped at him.

“You drove with your arm in a sling?”

“Fuck yeah, only got tricky when I had to shift.”

I lifted both of my hands and put my palms to my forehead. It was a Calgon-take-me-away moment.

“Coxy, she doesn’t want your man. You can send him home,” Lee said, his voice calm but scary.

“He’s a present, for India. It’s hardly for you to say,” Wilcox returned, also calm but combative.

“Lee says he goes, he f**king goes!” Duke roared, not at all calm.

“I make coffee!” the Italian guy shouted, looking a bit more at ease when someone was shouting.

I was having visions of Goon Gary flying through the front window of my store.

“Everyone makes coffee, twerp. I make coffee. Jeez-us. Why the big deal about coffee?” Tex said and lumbered to the espresso machine as if the air wasn’t thick enough with tension. He pushed himself behind the counter. “What’ll it be? I’ll make everybody coffee.”

Oh… my…. God.

This was not happening.

I saw my life flashing before my eyes, or at least my bank balance.

I turned to Lee and whispered, “Lee, that espresso machine cost thousands of dollars…” I stopped speaking and winced when Tex banged something, loud, “If he breaks it, I’m totally screwed.”

“Come on! What’ll it be? Give me orders. Woman, what’s your order?” Tex was pointing the portafilter at me.

“I am barista. I am the best barista in Milan. I make coffee!” Antonio shouted and dashed behind the counter. “Signorina, I make you espresso.”