Allison Leigh - The Bff Bride

He hadn’t budged when she went back out to the front.

She deposited the pastry boxes next to the register, threw away the gloves, refilled her coffee and leaned back against the rear counter, studying him over the brim of her cup. His eyes were bloodshot. Which, annoyingly, just seemed to make the violet color stand out that much more. “Tie one on last night?”

His jaw canted to one side. He shook his head and squinted as he sipped the steaming-hot coffee. “Should have. Couldn’t sleep, anyway. At least then it would’ve been worthwhile.”

She smiled sweetly. “I slept like a baby.” On the couch. Plagued by dreams about him, only to wake with a crick in her neck that still made it hurt to turn her head too far to the left.

“Were you always this much of a witch, Tab?”

Despite everything, she felt a stab of some unidentified emotion. “Isn’t that how spinsters are supposed to act?”

He leaned on his elbows and looked at her through his lashes. “Twenty-eight is spinsterhood now?”

She sipped her coffee. It was to some old-fashioned folks around Weaver. But truthfully?

She felt that stab again. Regret, perhaps. Maybe loss.

It was hard to tell. When it came to Justin, things had started getting complicated long before they’d become adults. “Close enough to be a regular at Dee Crowder’s spinster poker night.”

“‘Spinster’ sounds like you’re seventy-five and still pining for your first kiss.” He gave her that through-the-lashes look again. “And I know you don’t qualify there. Hell.” His lips twitched suddenly. “I remember when Caleb kissed you when we were freshmen in high school.”

About the time when she’d wished Justin would have been interested in kissing her. But he’d never been interesting in kissing her for her. She’d always been a substitute on that score. A substitute he’d left behind the same way he’d left behind Weaver.

“Doesn’t count,” she said promptly. “It was a practice kiss. He was afraid he’d mess up when he planted his first one on Kelly Rasmussen.”

Justin’s head came up, his expression genuinely surprised. “I always figured you gave him the same response you gave me when we were nine. Without the broken nose.”

It was nearly six. She figured Sloan McCray, one of the deputy sheriffs, would be showing his face soon before he went on duty. And frankly, she would be grateful for the interruption.

She flipped on the radio and glanced over the stack of to-go cups she kept near the big brewer. “If he’d done it without permission in order to make Kelly jealous, I probably would have given him the same response.” She lifted her shoulder. “Apples and oranges, though.”

“I didn’t kiss you to make Sierra jealous.”

“And you didn’t sleep with me four years ago to make—what’s her name? Oh, right. Gillian.” The name was seared on her brain. “That wasn’t an attempt to get her to sit up and take notice of you?”

“How many times do you want me to apologize for that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a few million.” She looked past him when the front door opened, making the little bell on top jingle softly. “Good morning, Deputy. Get you the usual?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Tabby.” Sloan stepped up to the counter and handed her his insulated travel mug for the coffee. She turned and filled it while he greeted Justin. “How’s life in Boston?”

“Cold,” Justin admitted. “Not as cold as here—” he glanced at Tabby “—but still cold. How’s your wife?”

“Keeping me warm,” Sloan drawled. “Very warm.”

“And the boy—Dillon, right?”

“Growing like a weed,” Tabby said, turning to hand the deputy his coffee mug, along with one of the pastry boxes. “He and Abby came by last week. Dillon’s going to be a heartbreaker one of these days.”

“Fortunately, I think we’ve got a few years yet before we have to worry about that.” He pulled out his wallet.

She waggled her finger at him. “You know your money is no good here, Deputy.”

“And you know I’m gonna argue.”

“Justin’s half owner of this place. Tell him, Justin.”

“What Tabby said,” Justin said obediently, without moving a muscle. “Easier to go along with her than argue, because you’ll never win. Trust me.”

Sloan stuffed a few dollars in the empty tip jar by the register. “You won’t give that back, because I know it gets split among your crew.” He took a sip from his mug, turning his gaze to Justin again. “You in town for the long weekend? Going to play in Colbys’ pool tournament?”

Tabby busied herself restacking the pastry boxes. Justin would be gone by nightfall just like always. He never stayed the entire Thanksgiving weekend. At least on that score, she could relax a little.

“I’m here until January. But no, I leave the pool games to my brother.”

She accidentally dropped the boxes and they scattered. “January!”

As Sloan leaned over and picked up the boxes that had landed on the floor, the radio attached to his belt crackled. He adjusted the sound and set the boxes on the counter. “Sure I’ll be seeing more of you then,” he said. He gestured with his mug and picked up his own pastry box. “Thanks, Tabby.”

“You bet.” She waited until the deputy departed before she focused on Justin again. “January?”

“I know the thought’s horrifying to you, but try to dial it down a little.” He came around the counter and refilled his coffee mug.

And even though she wanted to tell him to get back on his own side of the counter, she couldn’t very well do so.

Like it or not, he was her boss. It didn’t matter that he’d always left the decision making to his brother when it came to Ruby’s. But Justin was still half owner. It wasn’t something she dwelled on, but when they were standing right there in Ruby’s, it was kind of hard to forget.

She mentally counted to ten and tried again. “You’re here until January?” Calmer or not, her voice had still gone a little hoarse at the end. But she held up her chin as if it hadn’t. “Why is that?”

“I’ll be working on a project here for CNJ. At the hospital, mostly. My aunt cleared it last night, though she’s going to have me jumping through a few more hoops than I expected because of it.”

Tabby let his answer roll around in her head a few times. “Why can’t you work on it in Boston at that big state-of-the-art laboratory you love?”

“Too many distractions there.”

“Gillian being one of them?”

“Yes, but not the way you th—” He went silent when the bell over the door jingled again, and Sam strolled in.

She hadn’t yet changed from her jogging gear into her uniform. Tabby waited for the usual male reaction to register in Justin’s expression as he took in the sight of Sam’s figure lovingly outlined from neck to ankle in vibrant, clinging purple fabric.

But he didn’t do the typical double take like all the other guys.

Instead, he nodded politely at Sam and turned back to stare into his coffee mug while Tabby rang up a dozen rolls.

If he was so crazy about Gillian that a beautiful woman like Samantha didn’t even merit a glance, what was he doing making Tabby’s life harder by sticking around Weaver for the next few months?

The thought was more than a little irritating. “Sam, you haven’t met Justin Clay yet, have you? He’s Erik’s brother.”

Sam turned her bright eyes back to Justin. “No kidding? You’re the genius scientist who works back East.” She stuck out her hand, cocking her blond head a little to one side. “I guess I see the resemblance to Erik,” she said with a smile. “Except you’re prettier.”

Tabby nearly choked on her amusement when Justin flushed.