HAPPY PANTS CAFE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES) (16 page)

Harper blew out a breath and ran one hand through her short hair. “So. He was pissed.”

“Uh, yeah. Basically, he said that we either fix this, or he will blacklist us.”

“What?” Harper wasn’t sure she heard Ixtzel correctly.

“Blacklist. As in, no newspaper, magazine, or other reputable media organization will hire us.”

“He can’t do that,” Harper protested.

“Yeah. He can. Dan knows everyone in the industry. He’s the head of the fucking Newspaper Publishers’ Association.”

This was bad. “I guess now I understand how he got his reputation. So how does he want us to fix this?”

“Well, I kind of told him you let that wedding story go because you were working on something bigger.”

Oh, no.
Harper had said she’d come up with something good, but not
big
big. And now there was this added complication with Austin. She simply didn’t feel right trying to compete against him. It didn’t matter that “the incident” happened so long ago, it felt like new news to her, and she hadn’t yet been able to process what it all meant.

“How much bigger?” Harper asked.

“Like, really, really big. National front-page news big.”

Shit.

“Please tell me you have something?” she groaned.

“I-I, well, sorta.”

“What’s sorta? Is it like, yes, I have something big but don’t have the backup to go to print yet. Or is it, I’m not sure and need to do some more digging?”

Harper began telling her about the café and the cookies, fully expecting Ixtzel to scream bloody murder.

“Seriously? The president and first lady are customers?”

“I’m not sure, but that’s what was hinted at.” And frankly, Harper believed it.

“Is the owner willing to go on the record?”

“Yes and no. I got into some trouble with her—a little misunderstanding involving some cookie ingredients. Oh, and her son arrested me for spilling coffee on him; he’s the sheriff.”

“You got arrested?” Zel asked.

“Yeah. But he let me go. We had dinner together last night.”

“Oh. So you’re trying to get to him. Good work.”

“No. The entire family was there. I have to work for Ms. Luci, the café’s owner, for the week to make up for knocking her over. Well, I didn’t knock her over. It was Austin Royce, actually. We were racing.”

“What?” Ixtzel yelled. “Austin Royce is there with you?”

Austin had already mentioned he knew Ixtzel. “Yes. Funny thing; turns out, Ken from the wedding was actually him. He’s also stuck on work detail for the week.”

“Shit. We’re toast.”

“Why do you say that?” Harper asked.

“He’s a pit bull, Harper. The man once bodychecked an eighty-year-old woman at a movie premiere just to get a picture.”

“How do you know that?”

“I heard eyewitness testimony from a colleague.”

“You can’t believe anything us reporters say,” Harper argued flippantly.

“I’m telling you; he’s ruthless.”

Harper couldn’t believe it. “Pit bull or not, I have another little issue—it’s complicated, and I’m not sure I can continue going after the story.”

“What?” Zel barked. “Why not?”

She knew it was going to sound strange, but
she couldn’t
not
give Zel an explanation. “Would it surprise you to hear that I have a history with Austin or that we were neighbors as kids?”

“Are you high, Harper? That’s not a reason. I’ll be blacklisted. I’ll never work this industry again and neither will you!”

Why, oh why did this have to keep getting more and more complicated? “It’s hard to explain, so I won’t try, but you have to trust me—”

“I’m your friend, Harper. Your friend. I’ve put my job, my ass—everything on the line for you again and again. And you’re telling me that you won’t even try to get this story because you happened to live next door to Austin when you were a kid?”

Harper rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Maybe she could work something out with Austin. After all, Luci did say they could both interview her.

“Okay, I will get the story, Ixtzel, but I need more time.”

“We don’t have more time. Friday is the cutoff.”

Harper hung her head. “I need until Sunday.”

“You don’t have it. So find a way, or come pack up your office. You can help me with mine, too.”

Maybe she could convince Luci to take pity on them, but she’d first need to talk to Austin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

~~

Later that morning, Harper pulled up the long gravel driveway only to find a frantic Ms. Luci standing directly in front of the porch, screaming at Austin and Sebastian

She parked her Mini and approached cautiously, almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”

“The chicken coop was left open,” Luci yelled, tears in her eyes. “So was the gate to my garden. The little peckers destroyed everything!”

“What? But I closed the gate,” Harper said. How was it possible?

“Are you sure?” Austin asked. “Because you were pretty distracted yesterday.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harper snapped.

“Just what I said,” he replied coldly. “I saw a lot of drooling going on.”

Okay, yeah. She’d looked at Juan. So what? The real drooling had been happening over him, but he’d been too busy huffing and puffing to even notice. “Are you certain you weren’t the one who was distracted? It sure looked that way after dinner.”

“No. I wasn’t distracted, and I locked the coop,” Austin growled.

“Enough!” Luci yelled. “You two are hopeless. I cannot believe my ears! Miss Happy Pants is sick, and you two are determined to bicker like jealous twelve-year-olds.”

“What happened to Miss Happy Pants?” Harper asked.

“Someone forgot to lock her pen, and she ate chicken feed, which is deadly to horses if they eat enough of it.”

Oh no!

“I left the feed out,” Austin admitted, “but again, her stall was shut tight when I left. Someone must’ve opened it.” Austin looked like he wanted to punch something.

Ms. Luci growled. “It’s of little consequence to me, child. That horse is going to be dead by the end of the day if we don’t flush out its system.”

“Okay. What do we do?” Harper had a horrible image of horsey parts flying everywhere.

“Get out of my sight! That’s what you should do.”

Ouch.

Luci looked at Sebastian. “You go to the veterinarian in Calistoga and buy the linseed oil.”

“No,” Harper said. “We’ll go, Luci. Please, just let us help.” Holy crap. If this lady’s horse died, she would feel awful. Not that it was her fault, but she could tell the old woman loved her horse.

“Yes, let them go,” Sebastian agreed. “I will stay here with Miss Happy Pants and sing to her.”

Luci nodded. “Fine. But no Enrique Iglesias. You know that that upsets her.”

“I will stick to
Shakira.”

Just then, Juan came out of the house, wearing nothing but a pair of black jogging shorts. His hair was mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Nice of you to get your butt out of bed,” Ms. Luci seethed.

“What’s going on?” Juan asked.

Luci repeated the list of issues.

Juan scratched his stubbly chin. “Well, I checked everything before I went to bed, and it was all locked up tight.”

“Are you trying to tell me that those latches simply unlocked themselves?” Luci scowled.

“Nope.” Juan smiled at Harper, seeming unconcerned about the drama. “
Buenos días,
Harper. Are you ready for a long day?” He winked.

“Juan,” said Luci, “
keep it in your pants, and start rounding up the damned chickens.”

“I’m leaving for the vet,” Austin said curtly, starting towards his car.

“You and Harper should both go,” Sebastian said. “Otherwise, Juan will be too distracted by his own cock to focus on the ones that need catching.”

So, so inappropriate. I’m going to pretend he didn’t just say that.

“I am really sorry about all this, Luci,” Harper offered. “But I promise we’d never do something so careless.”

Ms. Luci gave her a look.

“On purpose, anyway,” Harper added. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.” Just then, three little snickering faces peeked out of the barn.

Oh, you little brats! You’re not going to get away with this.

“Fine. Good. Just hurry back.” Ms. Luci walked back toward the garden.

“Here’s the address of the vet.” Sebastian dug a card from his snakeskin wallet and handed Harper a card. “And tell Beatrice my rash is all better now. So if she’s free tomorrow,
Señor
Jalapeño and I are ready for action.”

So, so, so inappropriate.

Harper took the card from his hand and tried to hide her repulsion. “Mmmm…I will let. Her. Know.”
Just as soon as I get a lobotomy to remove that mental image from my brain.

“And be sure to purchase the organic brand of oil, because Miss Happy Pants is an all-natural, vegan horse,” Sebastian added.

Huuuh? As opposed to an omnivorous horse?

“Here’s my number in case you need to reach us.” She handed him a card from her purse.

“Come back quickly,” Juan said.

Harper nodded and flashed a little smile. That guy really was a flirty little horn-dog.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll drive,” Austin offered with a short tone, already halfway to his car.

“Sure. Go right ahead.”

I can’t believe he’s still bent out of shape.

Harper got into the passenger side, one hundred percent determined to keep silent and let Austin cool off so as not to start another fight. This day was already bad enough, and she needed to have a serious grown-up conversation with him about, well, a lot of stuff, frankly.

Good luck with that.
Harper fully recognized that their maturity levels instantly diminished when they got into the same room. Her only explanation was that neither had ever let go of that chapter of their lives.

Maybe it’s time we do that, then.
But how? They were both so hypersensitive around each other.
Well, every bridge starts with one stone. Or steel-reinforced cement beam. Or…whatever.

She looked at Austin, but his body language made her retreat. His square, stubbled jaw flexed with tension, and he frowned at the road ahead.

Maybe I’ll wait.

But once on the back road heading toward town, the silence grated on Harper’s nerves.
Don’t be a wuss. Start by clearing the air
. She could begin by letting him know that if he liked Jodiann, she wasn’t going to stand in his way.

Great idea. See. Lay down the first stone.

“So. How was your night last night?” she asked.

Austin glanced her way. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said in her best I’m-really-happy-for-you tone, “it was pretty obvious that Jodiann is into you. Think she’s the one?”

Her question only seemed to make him more upset. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harper,” he grumbled.

“I’m trying to be open-minded. You’re the one who said that you believed in true love.”

“You make it sound like some pathetic line from a movie or a mystical creature from another planet.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums up how I feel about it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t respect your beliefs.”

He scoffed.

“Why do you care what I think, anyway?” she asked.

“I don’t. I just think it’s pretty damned strange your dream job entails reporting about engagement parties and weddings.”

She shrugged. “I get that it might seem odd to other people, but when I first started, it fed my curiosity. I got to see couples on their happiest day, surrounded by friends and family. And then, after a while, I began trying to find the similarities between the couples who lasted versus those who didn’t. I even came up with a list of questions—did they eat breakfast together? What common interests did they have? Etcetera.”

“What did you find out?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” But now she was beginning to wonder if her fascination with the topic had something to do with that pea under her mattress.

“But, obviously, some couples do stay together,” he pointed out.

“Yep,” she admitted.

“And you still think they’re faking being in love.”

“Yep.”

He shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s sad, that’s all.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s realistic and practical. And if I ever get married, I won’t be going in with false expectations of fireworks and heart palpitations for the next forty years. He’ll have his life, I’ll have mine; we’ll coexist peacefully and help each other.”