“Which reminds me, I need to reschedule a grocery delivery.”The one ordered for today to show up with Tina’s favourite foods.It needed to be pushed back 24 hours.
He pulled onto a side street lined with old brick buildings that looked like they’d been plucked straight from a Hallmark movie.Window boxes overflowed with the colour blossoms of summer.People on the sidewalks laughed in merriment.Small town charm bubbled like champagne.A sandwich board out front of Hearth & Vine Spirits boastedLocally Crafted Dangerously Smooth.Across the street, a hand-painted sign over a doorway read The Yarn Barn, complete with a cartoon sheep in sunglasses.When I had more time, I needed to return and explore this place further.
“This is ridiculously cute,” I said, slinging my purse over my shoulder as he parked.“Like, aggressively wholesome.I half expect someone to hand me a pumpkin spice latte and a moral lesson.”
“Give it five minutes,” Tristan said, grinning as he popped the back doors.“Hearth & Vine’s where I’m dropping this order.They’re expecting three cases of Ortega and a man with impeccable taste.”
“Guess we’ll have to send someone else, then.”
He shot me a mock glare before hopping in with ease.“You wound me, Nightlight.”
The nickname still caught me off guard, soft and familiar in a way that made my chest feel like warm candle wax.I busied myself pulling my carry-on out before my brain could overanalyze it.
He lifted the first crate like it weighed nothing.The muscles in his forearms flexed in a way that was frankly unfair to all of womankind.
“Careful,” I called.“You’re going to make the local PTA moms spontaneously combust.”
My comment was greeted with a lopsided tilt of his head and a half-smile.“Only if they’re into hardworking entrepreneurs with lower-back pain.”
“Trust me,” I said, “that’s a demographic.”
By the time he loaded the last box onto a dolly and disappeared inside, I found myself grinning like an idiot at the back of the van.No doubt, the smile was there when I called to reschedule the grocery delivery and the customer service rep was happy to oblige, even going so far as to waive the rescheduling fee.
When Tristan returned a few minutes later, brushing a streak of dust from his dark jeans, he gave a quick nod toward the next block.
“Coffee Loft?”
“Only if they have chocolate chip muffins.”
“Nightlight, this is a small-town café.Theylivefor muffins.”
The Coffee Loft was perched on the corner of Ridge Heights’ main street; its weathered sign swaying slightly in the breeze.
“Looks promising,” I said as we walked up the concrete and stone steps.
It was a place Allie would’ve loved; like something snatched right out of the cheesy and wonderful Hallmark movies we’d watch together.
The inside was all mismatched armchairs, fairy lights, and chalkboard specials written in loopy handwriting, but it smelled like heaven had been dusted with espresso and sugar and baked goods.The chalkboard menu had things like ‘Maple Latte’ and ‘Alpine Mocha.’
The second Tristan stepped in, the barista lit up.“Tristan Graham!You’re back!”
“Oh?”I muttered, trailing behind him.“You’re famous.”
He grinned, unfazed.“Winery deliveries.Small towns talk.”
“Sure they do.”I crossed my arms.“You just like the attention.”
The barista leaned over the counter, whispering loudly, “Do you have more of that Gewürztraminer this time?”
“Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”His voice was warm and smooth in a way that made it feel like he’d aged into his confidence instead of finding it.
I folded my arms.“Gewürz–what-now?You’re basically a celebrity sommelier.Admit it.”
“Celebrity?”He looked me over.“I’m just a guy with a van full of fermented grapes.”
“Mmhmm.Don’t undersell yourself, Winery Guy.”
While he ordered his Very Serious Black Coffee, I eyed the menu.“One almond milk caramel latte, extra whip, and two additional pumps of caramel please.”
