He shrugs one shoulder, eyes soft, and my heart responds as if it knows what it’s doing. “Tessa said you’d forget breakfast.”
“Tessa’s a narc.”
“She’s also right.” His smile flickers—quick, real. “Thought you could use something warm.”
There’s a silence after that—not awkward, just dense with things we don’t know how to name yet. He moves toward the back latch like muscle memory, testing it, frowning slightly at the way it sticks. I lean on the counter and sip my tea, watching his shoulders move under that worn flannel, wondering when it became so easy to forget to breathe.
He glances back once. “The hinge’ll hold for now. I’ll bring tools later.”
“Of course you will.”
Before he can answer, the front bell jingles. We both freeze.
It’s 7:01, the café is not even open, but Tessa never believed in schedules when meddling was involved.
“Don’t shoot, it’s me!” her voice sings from the front. “I come bearing caffeine and judgment!”
I grin before I can help it. “The door’s open!”
Luke mutters, “Mistake,” under his breath, but he doesn’t move away from the latch, and I swallow the small smile that’s ignited somewhere deep inside.
Tessa bursts in like a snowglobe someone just shook too hard—curly auburn hair escaping a messy bun, scarf twice her size, holding two coffees and a bag of something that smells suspiciously like cinnamonrolls.
“Sweetheart,” she exclaims, thrusting one cup into my hand and one into Luke’s. “You look human. I was worried.”
“I’ve been up for a while, and besides, you two must not have gotten the memo. This is a café, I’m supposed to supply the cakes.”
She aims a lopsided smile my way, drops her bag on the counter, and surveys the place like a general taking inventory of her troops. “All right. It smells like ghosts, but not the tragic kind. We can work with that.”
“Good morning to you too,” Luke says, but his mouth curves as he wipes sawdust from his hands.
Tessa beams. “Luke. You still emotionally unavailable, or did therapy finally take?”
He raises a brow. “Do you ever lead with hello?”
“No fun in that.” She looks at me, conspiratorial. “Tell him, City Mouse.”
I groan. “You’re not bringing that back.”
“Oh, it never left.” She snatches my list from the counter and squints. “Courage-flavored scones? That’s bold.”
“Better than fear-flavored,” I mumble into my tea.
Luke chuckles low. “She’s not wrong.”
Tessa leans on the counter, eyes gleaming. “All right, Hannah. What’s the plan? You reopening soft or grand?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “Maybe a week to clean, restock, remember how to breathe. Maybe longer.”
“Good. Gives us time to make the new chalkboard sign.” Shegrins, already pulling a marker from her bag. “And to get you gossip-ready.”
I roll my eyes. “Gossip-ready?”
“Mm-hm. You think no one noticed three men walking you home last night? Half the town’s already composing theories. Mrs. Calloway cornered me at the post office. Asked if we’re renaming the caféPoly & Honey.”
Luke chokes on his coffee. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish.” Tessa sips her latte, unbothered. “I told her we’re too classy for rebranding.”
