I pause mid-receipt stack. “Officially?”
“Officially,” she confirms. “Which means”—she grins—"I hope you don’t get sick of seeing Sawyer.”
I don’t miss a beat. “Oh, we won’t.”
The look she gives me suggests she hears exactly what I meant.
Carol gathers her things, then hesitates again, lowering her voice. “Oh—you know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have a friend on the grant committee.”
My heart immediately does a very unhelpful little jump.
“She mentioned the mystery shopper already came through,” Carol continues. “So… if you got it, you should be hearing soon.”
I grip the edge of the counter like it might float away. “Soon as in…?”
Carol shrugs. “Soon as in soon.”
That’s not helpful. But it’s also everything.
After she leaves—with one last wink and a cheerful “keep doing what you’re doing!”—I cross my fingers behind my back, then uncross them, then cross them again just in case the universe didn’t catch it the first time.
I’m still mid-silent plea when the bell over the door jingles.
Sawyer walks in wearing a soft hoodie and that relaxed smile that’s been sneaking up on me lately, the one that feels less like a performance and more like a truth. He’s carrying a cardboard drink tray in one hand and a paper bag in the other.
“Hi,” he says, like he hasn’t just improved my entire day by existing.
Charlie pops up from behind the counter instantly. “Is that coffee?”
“Sure is. With donuts too,” Sawyer confirms. “Figured it’s a good afternoon pick-me-up. Plus one very important donut that no one is allowed to touch because it’s for Theo.”
Charlie gasps. “You even labeled it this time.”
“I’m a donut connoisseur myself,” Sawyer says solemnly.
I shake my head, smiling. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” he says easily. “But I like doing it.”
He sets everything down on the counter, already moving like he knows the rhythm here, like he’s done this a hundred times instead of whatever number we’re actually on. When he hands me my coffee, our fingers brush, and it feels familiar in a way that still surprises me.
His gaze flicks to my face, warm and curious. “How’s your day been?”
Sawyer asks like he genuinely wants to know. Like theanswer matters. Like we’ve been doing this for twenty years and he’s ready to ask me that for twenty more.
“Busy,” I say. “Which is great, because busy usually means we’re paying bills.”
He smiles, the corner of his mouth tipping up. “Ah. A fan of financial stability.”
“Big fan,” I say. “Huge supporter.”
Charlie snorts from across the shop. “Nothing sexier than cash flow.”
Sawyer laughs, easy and unguarded, and it does something ridiculous to my chest. He leans a little closer, lowering his voice. “So, about last night…”
“Stop it,” I growl, changing the subject and clearing my throat like I mean business. “Remember Carol? She stopped by. Apparently, the business association is very pleased with you.”
He curls his lip in delight. Like a sexy little snarl. “Should I be worried?”
