“New resident.” Her voice rises like she’s still testing out that concept. “I just moved here last month.”
“Oh, yeah? What brought you here?”
“I’m the new event coordinator at Moonlight Lodge.”
“Congratulations. I love that place. It’s exciting to see how much they’ve expanded in the last couple of years. I bet weddings there are beautiful.” Mom sent me the links as soon as the barn they converted into a wedding venue went live last fall. Along with a hint about how magical a ceremony there would be.
She nods, her wavy blond hair swaying. “It’s a stunning location.”
We finish up her drinks, and I load them into a cardboard carrier.
“I’m Rose, and this is Reed,” I say as I pass the order over. “Welcome to Sunshine.”
“I’m Cassie.” She hefts the carrier into her arms. “Thanks so much.”
She leaves, and I wipe down the drinks station. When it’s sparkling, I turn to Reed, applying my “don’t bother trying to refuse” gaze again.
He shakes his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“Online orders could really streamline things in here.”
He crosses his arms, throwing up his favorite shields. “Seems unnecessary for a small coffee shop.”
I lift a finger like I’m pointing at a gold star over my head. “Small but successful.”
“You’ve got a lot of big plans.”
I shrug as if I don’t have a Pinterest board full of ideas for the coffee shop. Fresh paint doesn’t begin to cover it. I would love to see us connect with a bakery to offer pastries and small bites. Host occasional gatherings like open mic night or showcase local artists’ work on our walls. We could be more than just a place to walk through to grab a drink, but a community hub where people want to gather and make connections.
With coffee carts at every event in town, obviously.
“Your shift’s over,” he says.
“It’s almost like you don’t want to have this conversation,” I say sweetly.
“I don’t.”
I go into the back to grab my purse and clock out. Tucking my apron under my arm to take home and wash, I join Reed out front again. I walk right up to where he’s leaning against the back counter, practicing his stare to ward off paying customers.
After this morning and our cozy closeness working together this afternoon, I’m tempted to go in for a goodbye hug. The mandid save me from hungry animals last night. But I’m not sure if that’s what I would do naturally or if I’m just touch-starved.
I don’t like to think about the possibility I’m actually starved forhistouch.
“Do you have plans tonight?” he asks.
“It’s craft night at the library.”
“Ah. What are you making this time?”
They offer craft classes for adults one night a month. So far, I’ve made beeswax candles, a monogram button collage, a macrame wall decoration, and a fairy house. Everything is on display in my bedroom, where I keep all my treasures. “Stained glass window panes. It’s not real leaded glass, but it will look close enough.”
I think through my collection of crafts I’ve made in one of the gathering rooms in the local library. “Actually, it probably won’t look close at all, but it’s just fun to try something new. And maybe meet some new people. Nobody ever tells you how hard it is to make friends as an adult. Life was so much easier when you could just bond over Beanie Babies and Barbie dolls.”
His mouth doesn’t move, but I swear he’s at least thinking about smiling. “It was Transformers for me.”
Not going to imagine Reed Bridger as a little boy playing with his car robots. My heart can’t take it.
“You could come, too. If you wanted.” I’m not asking him on a date. Anyone can go to craft night. It’s on the library’s website and everything. My palms get clammy anyway.
