Kissing with Fangs by Ashlyn Chase

But, as usual, he’d said he’d arrive in the early evening.
    Where the heck does he spend his days?
    In the five years they’d known each other, she’d never asked. She could sense the information was of a personal nature. Maybe he visited a sick relative. Or perhaps he held another job—something volunteer but close to his heart.
    The desire to find out was gnawing at her. Part of her said she had a right to ask, and the other part said she might not want to know. She didn’t really want to discuss it with her sponsor, because any normal woman would caution her or tell her to confront him.
    Claudia knew Anthony was a good man and had dismissed the suspicions that rolled unbidden through her brain. Anyone who didn’t know him might think the worst—like maybe he had a family in the suburbs.
    A knock at the door disrupted Claudia’s musings. The shop wasn’t due to open for another fifteen minutes, but she was grateful for the distraction.
    Peeking through the window, she could see the top of Sadie’s gray head. Her braids were wrapped Gretel-style across her crown. Claudia had almost forgotten that Anthony’s aunt would be arriving a few minutes early to set up her table where she’d read tea leaves.
    Claudia welcomed Sadie inside. The elderly woman hugged Claudia and smiled.
    â€œHow are you? I’ve missed your calming presence.”
    Claudia chuckled. “I’ve missed yours too.” It was good to see Sadie’s familiar face. Claudia hadn’t realized until that moment how important a role the old woman had in the bar before, and she’d bet Sadie would become a fixture in the new business as well.
    She watched Sadie wend her way through the tables to the one in the farthest corner. Sadie put her satchel down on the floor beside it. “Is it all right if I pull this one slightly farther away from the others to give my customers a bit of privacy?”
    â€œOf course. Can I help?” Claudia quickly made her way over to the corner table, pulled out the chairs, and grasped one side of the table.
    â€œJust a foot or so toward the back should be fine.”
    When they’d rearranged the back corner, Sadie set her hands on her hips and surveyed the whole room. “It looks lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind my throwing off the arrangement like this?”
    Claudia laughed. “The day I become so anal that I can’t tolerate a table being moved a few feet is the day I should hang up my apron.”
    Sadie looked her up and down. “But you’re not wearing an apron. Come to think of it, aren’t you afraid you’ll spill something on that gorgeous purple dress?”
    â€œThat’s what dry cleaners are for. Really, Sadie,” she teased. “Priorities.”
    Sadie settled into her chair. “And what are your priorities, dear?”
    That took her by surprise. Was she being serious? “What do you mean? I was just joking about fashion taking precedence over practicality—although I’m not going to wear an apron. I want the atmosphere to be like a home where I’m the hostess and the customers are my guests.”
    â€œCan you handle all that by yourself?”
    â€œI prefer being busy to being idle.”
    Sadie nodded. “Is that what your sponsor told you?”
    Claudia’s jaw dropped. Anthony wouldn’t have told anyone she was in AA, would he? Didn’t everyone know what those letters stood for? Particularly the second A for “anonymous”?
    â€œI can see I surprised you,” Sadie said. “And before you ask…no, Anthony didn’t tell me.”
    Claudia slowly lowered herself into the chair opposite. “You knew that because you’re psychic?”
    Sadie chuckled. “No. I knew that because I saw you going into the Sacred Heart Church’s basement entrance one Sunday evening. Then I got my psychic flash.”
    â€œOh.” Claudia