Charlotte Sanguinite

“What’re you daydreaming about?” Jazz glances at me, two days after the beautiful date I had with Robert. “You’ve been a little loopy lately. Is it because of the weird guy in the alley? Dad already installed cameras and fixed the lighting back there. If you’re worried—”

“No.” I flush. “It’s not that.”

Jazz is wiping down the tables after the morning rush. There are two people occupying the booth in the back, which is usually reserved for ...