Page 4 of Call It Serendipity

I walk up the center aisle of the café until I reach her, leaning a hip against the counter between us. “I’m not sure. Is this good or bad news?”

“Bad, deary.”

My head swivels to find Claire’s grandmother, Alice, sitting at the corner table. Her soft white hair frames her face, trimmed to a flattering bob, and she’s wearing a rosy hued pashmina scarf draped over her shoulders that shimmers in the light as she lifts her tiny espresso cup to her lips.

Of course, Alice arrived to hold court this morning. I bite back a smile, opting for a solemn nod as our town matriarch would expect. “The hotel news? Yes, I heard.”

“Just awful, isn’t it?” Jenny sighs. “It was one thing for Holiday Valley to open the inn on the ski resort. But what do we need two hotels around here for? We have the cutest houses and cabins for people to rent—that’s what they want after all.”

“And it’s a chain hotel. There’s no character to the towering monstrosity they want to put in the center of our village,” Alice adds.

“How sure are you that this is happening?”

She takes another sip of espresso, letting my question hang perilously between us. Then, she says, “I don’t think final papers have been signed, but I’m sure they’re interested. Sources say Mr. Carpenter himself is here in town and lurking about our streets.”

“What do you think Mr. Carpenter looks like?” Jenny muses, tapping the pen she uses to take orders against her chin. “Do you think we’ve seen him around?”

“If I had to hazard a guess? He’s probably twenty years younger than me but looks ten years my senior,” Alice says with a cheeky little grin. “And probably looking out of place in a fancy suit.”

Jenny and I nod in solidarity.

“I’ll keep my eye out on the way to the shelter.”

“Right, you have animals waiting. Your usual?”

My usual is a French vanilla coffee with brown sugar and a pinch of sea salt. Nothing tar-like about it. “Yes please. Thanks, Jenny.”

“You got it.”

While she gets to work on my drink, I settle in, lean forward, and rest my elbows on the counter. This is one of the few public places I manage to relax—maybe it’s the ambiance of the hissing coffee machine and cozy pendant lighting, or the sound of Alice creasing her newspaper as she returns to it.

Whatever the reason, I am so relaxed that I don’t notice anyone approaching behind me until I hear, “No headphones today?”

I spin on the heels of my riding boots, a zing shooting through my chest as I recognize the voice’s owner.

It’s him. My mysterious savior.

There’s that honey brown hair—a little floppy, a little wavy, and completely effortless as a tendril drops over his forehead—and his face is cleanly shaved this time. It affords me the opportunity to confirm I was right about that strong jawline hiding behind the other day’s dusting of a five o’clock shadow.

Then there are his eyes; they’re an indiscernible dark color from this distance, but it’s clear that they are focused squarely on me.

Even though a part of my brain hoped for this moment, the rest of me is caught like a deer in headlights. And it makes me think of last time, when I was actually caught in a headlight.

My hands are growing clammy as his eyes brighten with recognition. When his smile spreads wide, I swear my stomach actually tumbles over itself in response.

“I’m Jake,” he tells me.

“Lucy,” I manage on a shaky breath.

“Lucy,” he repeats, his voice a deep, velvety dream. He says my name like it’s something he’s been searching for, something precious. My stomach flips once more. “It’s good to see you again.”

Jenny drifts back over to the counter, two take away cups in hand. “Here you are.” She places the shorter one in front of me before handing the large to Jake.

“How much for the both of them?” he asks.

I don’t need to protest; Jenny does for me. “Lucy’s is always on the house after she found me my handsome Duke.”

His eyebrow arches in my direction, and I feel my face heating under his gaze. “Are you a matchmaker?”