Page 10

“Sorry about that.” I pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and smiled at Mrs. Alcott, who was already tapping one manicured nail against the display case. “The usual?”

“If you can tear yourself away from whatever daydream that was,” she said, her tone all bark and no bite.

“Lavender latte, extra foam, one pump of vanilla. I could make it in my sleep, Mrs. Alcott.”

“Then why aren’t you making it now?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I grinned and got to work, pulling the shot, steaming the milk, letting the mechanical rhythm of the machine settle my thoughts. Mrs. Alcott paid, left a dollar in the tip jar, and shuffled toward her usual seat by the window without another word.

Two more customers followed in quick succession—a hiker ordering a drip coffee to go, and one of the college kids wanting a refill on her iced americano. I moved through the orders on autopilot, hands busy while my mind circled back to the kitchen. To the smell of whiskey that had clung to Phineas when he’d first walked in yesterday, faint but unmistakable to a wolf’s nose. To the way Phineas scanned every room like he was noting exits.

The door opened, and a familiar frame filled the entrance.

Blade shared my dark hair, though my brother wore his entire head cropped close to the skull.

Where I ran broad and heavy through the shoulders, my younger brother was built long and lean, all rangy muscle and angles.

A faded olive jacket hung open over a black T-shirt, and his jeans had the kind of wear that came from actual use, not fashion. Same greenish-amber eyes as mine, though Blade's were a shade darker.

“Well, well.” Blade spread his arms wide, grinning. “The prodigal brother returns to the land of overpriced caffeine.”

“Overpriced?” I pressed a hand to my sternum in mock offense. “Get out of my shop.”

“Can’t. Already smelled the croissants from the parking lot.” He crossed the room in three easy strides and pulled me into a hug that lifted me slightly off the ground. “Missed you, bro.”

“You saw me two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks is a long time when you’re the only family member I actually like.” He released me and took a step back, scanning the café with an approving nod. “Place still looks good. You finally fix that leak in the back?”

“Fixed it, patched the ceiling, repainted. Cost me a weekend and most of my patience.” I was already reaching for a mug. “Sit down. I’ll make you something that isn’t from a gas station.”

“You wound me. I’ve graduated to truck stop coffee. Much classier.”

I snorted and pulled a double shot, adding steamed oat milk and a drizzle of honey—Blade’s order since the first time he’d visited the shop, though my brother would sooner chew glass than admit he preferred anything fancier than black coffee.

“Here.” I set the mug down on the low table between the two gray couches near the back wall. “Your not-fancy coffee.”

“It’s a latte with training wheels. There’s a difference.” But Blade took a long sip and closed his eyes, making a sound that bordered on indecent. “Okay, fine. It’s good. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” I dropped onto the opposite couch, stretching my legs out until my boots nearly touched my brother’s. The café had emptied to just the crossword man and one of the laptop regulars, both firmly in their own worlds. “So what brings you here? You usually call first.”

Blade set his mug aside, and something shifted in his expression. Like a man who’d made a decision and was comfortable sitting inside it.

“Bought a house.”

I straightened. “You what?”

“Three-bedroom place on Birch Lane, just past the fire station. Needs work. Roof’s got maybe two good years left, and the previous owner had a truly criminal relationship with wallpaper, but the bones are solid.” Blade leaned back into the couch, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in months. “Closed yesterday.”

“You bought a house. In Temptation.” My brother, who kept a go-bag packed by the door out of habit. “You’re putting down roots.”

“Trying to.” Blade picked up his mug again, thumbing the rim. “Got tired of living like I’m a nomad. Figured it was time to stop roaming and actually commit.”

A wide grin broke across my face. “Blade. That’s…man, that’s great. Seriously.” I meant it. For years, I’d watched my brother keep one foot out the door of every room he entered, never fully landing anywhere. Temptation had always suited him. The guy just hadn’t let himself believe it yet. “Birch Lane’s a good street. Quiet. Close to town.”

“Close to you, too.” Blade said it casually, but the look he gave me wasn’t casual at all. “Figured my brother might want to help me tear out some wallpaper.”

“Depends on how ugly it is.”