It isn’t all that often that I get pegged in the wild as a Holm. But when it happens, it makes me uncomfortable. Every time. I’m not interested in celebrity, local or otherwise. Given my family’s recent bad rap, and the local merchants’ reaction to the rent hike, it’s not necessarily a good thing for me to be recognized.
“No, really,” the girl says, and I can feel her gaze still on me. “Iknowyou. You ran into my friend outside The Onion the other night. That was you, right?”
I open one eye and turn my head to get a better look at the girl. She’s staring openly at me with wide, cornflower-blue eyes and a completely guileless smile.
I sit up a little straighter and raise the sunglasses.
“That human missile was your friend?” I ask. I’d noticed the battle pixie wasn’t alone, but frankly, I was so taken by her, I’d barely taken stock of anyone else.
“Ha! Human missile! Battle pixie!” The girl snorts loudly. “Love that. I’m Kenna, by the way,” she says. She sticks out her hand.
“Hudson.” I extend my hand to shake hers. Just Hudson, for now.
“So, Hudson, you live around here?” Kenna asks, and I can tell she is fishing for something. Perhaps she’s just curious about the new guy in town? I’m definitely not getting any flirty vibes from her, which is just as well. She seems perfectly nice, but not really my type.
Her friend on the other hand …
Ihaveto stop thinking about her friend. I’m not looking for a relationship, I remind myself. I think of my dad’s multiple marriages. Bryce’s imminent divorce. It’s a family curse. I have no desire to jump out of the frying pan and into that dumpster fire.
But a part of me still wonders. What if … what if I were to meet someone who has no idea who I really am? Will I still have to be that guy? I haven’t felt such a strong and instant spark of attraction in a long time. It’s difficult to just let it go. Had she felt it too? And if she finds out who I am, will it still feel the same?
Probably not, considering she decked my brother. Clearly, she is already plenty familiar with my family.
Just like that, my fantasies of meeting someone new without having to unpack the Holm baggage evaporate in the late-afternoon sunshine.
“I’m in town for a few months,” I say. “We’ll see after that.” This is the truth. I’m not going anywhere for at least six months. Not until after I’ve cleaned up Bryce’s meddling with the new construction and fully launched the warehouse loft conversion.
It’s going to be a long, lonely stretch if I don’t start making some friends besides Jackson. But how exactly am I supposed to do that in this town where everyone literally already knows—and loathes—my name?
“I hope you like soup,” Kenna says.
“Soup?” I give her a quizzical look.
“This great weather’s not going to last, buddy. Come November, it’s going to be serious soup weather.”
I smile. She’s right. “Actually, I’m quite fond of soup. And I make a mean bowl of chili.”
“Can’t be better than the diner’s famous black bean chili,” Kenna argues. “Although word to the wise? Take some beano before you eat it. Your whole family will thank you.”
“Ah!” Understanding dawns on me as I take in her apron, the small notebook in her apron pocket, and the pen in her crazy bun. “You work over there?”
“My uncles own the diner. I help them out. I’m their barista.” Kenna grins.
“Coffee Witch?” I read the words embroidered on the front of her apron. “What exactly does that mean?”
She raises her eyebrows and smiles enigmatically.
“It’s just a thing I do,” she explains. “I can intuit the perfect drink for people just by looking at them. And when they drink it, everything in their life goes a little better.”
“I imagine that’s pretty magical for business,” I agree. “But do you think it’s the caffeine or the power of suggestion?”
“Oh ye of little faith.” She shrugs again and smiles mischievously, suddenly reminding me of Lilly. “Some people say it’s lifechanging.”
“Just don’t call me a flat white,” I say.
She makes an apologetic “eek” face, as if that was exactly what she was about to say.
“Stop!” I laugh. What a curious conversation this has turned out to be. No hidden agendas that I can suss out. She doesn’t seem to need anything from me. It’s refreshing. But bound to be short-lived. It’s only a matter of time before she learns who I am. And tells her intriguing friend. It’s a pity, really. A part of me wishes I could stay incognito. Just for a few more days …
