Page 32 of Where Roads Lead

Apparently content to ignore her, he turned toward me, while I contemplated the myriad of reasons for the strain between Will and his sister-in-law.

Then again, maybe he was just that hostile with everyone.

“You getting the same thing as last time?” He turned his attention toward me.

I arched a brow, hoping to diffuse whatever tension was lingering in the air by keeping it light-hearted. “Do you remember what I got last time?”

He busied himself with starting the espresso machine as he asked. “Remind me.”

“Wait, I have a question.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

“Hm. Doubt that, but I’m going to ask anyway.”

He stared at me, hazel eyes blinking in boredom as he waited.

“Do you have pumpkin coffee?”

“No.”

I frowned. “But it’s almost October. Are you getting any soon?”

“No,” he repeated.

“Why?”

“Because no one here drinks pumpkin coffee.”

“Well, obviously,” I told him. “Because you don’t have any.”

In the background, Ava was busying herself with intensely wiping down the counter, though something about the way her head titled slightly in our direction told me she was acutely aware of our interaction.

“If we had any, no one would drink it,” Will clarified.

“And how do you know?” I asked, just to be a pest, because as much as my questioning seemed to irritate him, it was a decidedly different manner of agitation than he’d been just moments ago.

“Because people like what they like,” he explained with that crease between his brows I was growing fond of. “Everyone in this town has been ordering the same thing for as long as I’ve been alive.”

He walked away, thinking it would stop me from arguing the point.

“Maybe the tourists would enjoy a festive fall beverage,” I countered, watching as he started up the espresso machine.

“We don’t get tourists.”

“Yeah, because you scare them off.”

“Apparently not,” he said with a pointed look in my direction.

I feigned a wounded gasp, feeling smug at the smile he was trying to suppress.

I nearly called him out on it until my mind got sidetracked by the sight of him sprinkling cinnamon over the latte.

“You did remember.” I beamed as he pushed it across the counter toward me.

“It’s an easy order.”

“Are you calling me easy?”