Page 27 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

“What about this direction?” she asked, and he physically warmed when she pivoted right.

After a few minutes of playing the hot and cold game, Katrina finally entered through the cafe door, which had a slight crack in its wood.

A ball ramming into the door. A stern rebuke. Guilt.

The Horseman blinked at the surge of vague images reeling in his mind. Somehow, he knew the history behind that weathered door.

A wave of smells overpowered his senses, jerking him back to the present. At the front of the store, a counter full of baked goods sat. Desserts like lemon blueberry cork cake, stroopwafels, caramel cookies, Tangled Britches, candy apricots, cookies in the shape of windmills, and apple tarts were laid out in a delectable fashion.

Katrina approached the counter, and the steam of apple cider rising from the pots behind caught his eye. He could almost taste the crisp apples, the hint of spice, a splash of orange and cinnamon. Every ingredient flooded into his memories.

How did he know the taste of that drink?

A woman with kind brown eyes turned from filling drinks behind the counter. Gray streaked through her chocolate curls, and the wrinkles around her mouth were a testament to how much she smiled. Slightly wrinkled hands dusted the flour from her apron.

“Good afternoon, Miss Van Tassel,” the woman greeted. “What may I do for you today?”

A pressure built in his mind, like a flood of water smashing against a dam. It took all his self-control not to wince at the ache begging to be released. The tension battered against him again and again until he clenched his fists over his lap.

Katrina smiled, and the woman glanced at his pumpkin head. “Why, what is this you have, carrying around?”

“Oh, one of the farmers let me have one of their leftover pumpkins. This one looked friendly, and I figured my brother would enjoy his company. I think his smile is charming and would brighten his grave.”

The Horseman couldn’t help the heat radiating through the pumpkin at the compliment. The woman laughed in a bright and familiar sound. “I think so, too. Would you like anything today?”

“A cup of hot chocolate and one of your apple tarts, please,” Katrina said cheerily.

“Coming right up,” the woman said with a wink and gestured to a small table near the window, where there was a clear view of a forest beyond—a place where he had often lingered himself.

Katrina sat and placed him gently on a wooden table. Lowering her voice, she said, “I know you can’t speak back to me, but is this where you wanted to go?”

She wrapped her hands on either side of his carved features. He warmed against her, and she nodded.

“That’s what I thought. I wonder why you’re so drawn to this place. They have wonderful sweets here, but that can’t be the only reason. Let's investigate after.”

After a few minutes, the woman carried a small tray over. “Thank you, dearie, for waiting. Here’s your hot chocolate,” she said. The teacup clinked on the table. “And your apple tart.”

Sweet, sugary apples glinted against a creamy glaze in the light. Fresh whipped cream topped the dessert and the steaming hot chocolate.

“Thank you. This looks quite delicious as always,” Katrina said.

The woman smiled, and a clawing sense of longing curled into his chest. Every line and curve of her lips seemed etched into his soul, but he still couldn’t recall why. The longer he stared at the woman, the more a crushing pain ripped through his heart.

Chapter fifteen

The longer Mrs. Van den Broek lingered by her table, the more the pumpkin burned Katrina’s fingers. She snatched her hands to prevent future blisters and raised the hot chocolate to her mouth. The woman smiled, excused herself, and Katrina regarded him behind the porcelain cup.

“Do you believe you know her?” Katrina whispered to the Horseman. She placed her cup down and grazed a finger against the smooth orange skin, but the heat vanished. Her brows furrowed.

Katrina knew she hadn’t imagined the blazing heat against her skin, so why was he hesitant to confirm her claim? Her thoughts spun as she sipped her hot chocolate, and she wondered what had triggered his reaction.

Flames danced in the fireplace against the adjacent wall, and its warmth was welcomed against the bitter autumn cold. Beyond the counter, Mister Van den Broek slapped dough onto the kitchen’s working table, molding it under his weathered hands.

Glancing at the walls, Katrina glimpsed wooden shelves filled with cans of spices, coffee beans, and dried herbs. As she ate her apple tart, she admired the delicate Delftware plates adorning the café, a wooden clock with brass details ticked softly, and wooden panels bore a carved floral motif. Above the mantle, however, a frame caught her eye.

The figure was small, with round cheeks, long lashes, and thick hair. Next to the frame, a faded newspaper clipping about the war and a mourning ribbon were pinned to the wall.

Katrina’s brows pinched as she attempted to recall who in their family had passed in the war. She had reviewed the records several times, yet the name Van den Broek had never appeared on the list of fallen soldiers. And if she remembered correctly, Mister Van den Broek had been unable to volunteer because of his bad leg. So, who in their family had joined the Continental Army? They didn’t have any children that she recalled—