บท 8: Chapter 8

“Oh, hi, Arlo.” Aksel Bakke glanced up at him from a stack of papers. “How’s it going? Holly showed you the ropes?” It would take some getting used to Aksel’s Norwegian accent—if he was staying. At one point, Aksel had been handsome, not that it mattered. Now he looked like a sleazy businessman, and Arlo guessed he was in a way. Maybe not sleazy but this wasn’t the only coffee shop he owned.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Bakke.” Arlo nodded a bit too vigorously, and the room spun. He should try to eat something.

“Good, good. Was there anything you were looking for?”

“Erm…no.”

“Then what are you doing in the kitchen?” Aksel gave him a look again.

“I was…erm…”

“Do that by the counter.” The papers caught his attention again, and he didn’t so much as glance up to see where Arlo was going as he left the kitchen.

“Hi, I’m Philip.”

Arlo jumped at the voice. He hadn’t seen the other man standing by the fridge. “Hi…I’m Arlo.”