I finished my paperwork about an hour after I'd given Clay his farewell gift, and I wasn't surprised to see none of the fantastic fiery five were in the cafe when I left my office. Checking in with Keli, who was about to leave for the day, making sure that Erin had everything under control and that the pastry case was being kept looking aesthetically pleasing, I was about to take the extra cash to the back to prepare the daily deposit when a voice broke into my concentration.

"Little Charlotte Ramble, is that you?" Looking up, I felt the urge to scream. Seriously? Standing in front of the register, looking far too put together to make me feel comfortable, was one of Walter's closest friends. Shit.

I managed to swallow a sigh that was building up as long suffering, and plastered my generic customer service smile on my face. "Alex Xavier," I took a glance around him trying to see if his twin Matthew was hiding nearby. Where there was one, usually there were two. "When did you get back in town?" Honest to God, was this the year from Hell?

He smiled, and I knew that there were some idiotic women who found his type strangely irresistible. Weird, because to me he looked like he put more effort into his image than I had the fucking patience to do for myself. And his brother was the same way, identical down to their toe nail length I'd bet.

"I wanted to come see how the investigation into the arson of my building was coming along." His building? FUCK. "I've learned that you weren't home that evening, strange, since rumor has it you aren't exactly the social butterfly, Charlotte." Don't roll your eyes, I told myself, don't do it.

I really fucking hoped that my smile hadn't slipped. "Not a lot of dating opportunities on the ground, Alex. A girl has to take the offers when they come." Sure, Charlotte, build up the fact that you're a dating dud. "I didn't know you owned that building."

Alex's smile had stayed put, fucker. "Well, Matt and I owned it, but now it's a complete loss." He fixed the black glove on his left hand, and I wanted to ask who brought the Michael Jackson look back, but kept myself in check. "Are you absolutely certain that you saw nothing, that you haven't seen any new suspicious people?"

"I am positive I didn't see anything." I didn't break eye contact, I didn't flinch or fidget. "As for a complete loss, surely you had insurance." Not mentioning new people at all.

"Insurance that is held up by an arson investigation," aside from the adjustment to his glove he didn't show any distress, and the glove was no doubt simply out of its perfect placement. "Charlotte, I'm sure you know how it is, since Davey and George have you keeping this place up and running."

"I hadn't even considered that," non-committal, not budging. "I really wish I had a way to help you out, but I'm positive you wouldn't want me to LIE to the police so the insurance pays out."

"Of course not." He scoffed. "I think that you may know more than you think, after all, this is THE spot for coffee and I've heard great things about the pastries."

I raised an eyebrow and wondered who was buttering up my image. "Would you care for a cup? I'll even toss in a sweet treat of your choosing." He said nothing, simply studied me.

"Perhaps another time," Alex let out a long suffering sigh, I knew it well since I had been holding back my own for weeks now. "If your memory-"

"The police will be the first to know," I assured him, but he stopped me and handed me a plane white business card with a phone number on it.

"I think I want to be the first to know," without another word, he walked away.

What the literal hell?

I didn't have any more visitors surprise me for the rest of the day. And I'd also never felt like I couldn't wait for a day to end with so much fucking yearning. Clay and the others off to who knew where, my dad popping in like he did it every fucking day, and then Alex offering me his weird minimalist card. Seriously, I couldn't remember a time that I was so fucking happy to say goodbye to my employees, lock the damn door, and go upstairs to take the longest hottest fucking bath that my skin could stand.

What's that saying? There's a calm before the storm? Well, I was pretty fucking certain that the storm had started, and I was already tired of the rain.