Page 5
Something softly clicked open inside me, my old self cautiously peeking out. “I was absolutely going to say house blend.”
“Thank god I saved you from social ruin. Try the maple bourbon cold brew. It’s basically autumn in a cup, minus the part where you have to rake leaves.”
Third laugh, soft, yet desperate to be heard. “Sold. Medium, please.”
“Living dangerously with medium. I like it.” Drift grabbed a cup, marker poised, gaze steady and playful. “Phineas with a P-H?”
“How did you—yes.”
“Lucky guess.” His smile went crooked. “You just look like someone who rebels.” He wrote the name with a flourish, turning the dot above the I into a smirk. “This’ll just take a minute. Don’t disappear.”
That’s all I’ve been slowly doing.
Behind me, the door chimed as someone entered. My shoulders tensed automatically then released when I saw a guy join the woman scrolling on her phone.
“So,” Drift said over the sound of ice rattling, “what brings someone to our thrilling little town? Let me guess. Witness protection?”
“Close.” My smirk matched the cup. “Fleeing my life of crime as a serial jaywalker.”
“It’s always the quiet ones. We take our crosswalk laws very seriously here. Sheriff once ticketed a dog.”
My brows rose. “You’re joking.”
“Scout’s honor. Though technically the owner got the ticket, Mr. Whiskers was definitely the perpetrator.”
Another laugh bubbled up, making me want to cry for a friendship that could’ve blossomed in another life.
Drift slid the drink across the counter, fingers brushing mine as I reached for it. I quickly snatched my hand away, fingers clutching the cup. With a silent curse, I willed my racing pulse to steady.
Drift’s greenish-amber eyes registered the flinch, but he said nothing, offering me dignity instead of shame.
“Verdict?” he asked instead as I took a sip.
Cold coffee with hints of maple and bourbon flavoring shouldn’t have been so delicious, yet somehow it was. “You’ve ruined regular coffee for me forever.”
“My evil plan is working.” Drift smiled, as if my enjoyment delighted him. “You should come back tomorrow. We do this whole thing with fresh croissants. Very French. Extremely pretentious. You’ll love it.”
I should’ve said no. Should’ve taken my coffee and left. Should’ve remembered all the reasons why letting anyone get close was dangerous.
“What time?” My heart skipped three beats, maybe ten, convinced insanity was setting in.
“Eight-ish?” Drift asked. “Before the morning rush turns everyone into caffeine zombies?”
Men had become dangerous territory in my life, yet there I stood, plotting ways to make it happen. I could call Mrs. Pegged and tell her I would be an hour late. I’d never been late to work before, and she had given me the rest of today off. I really have lost my ever-loving mind. If Ben finds out…
“Maybe.” I didn’t want to commit. Not when I didn’t know what Ben would do once he found out I had left my phone at work. But yearning to say yes twisted in my gut, more painful than any bruise.
“Maybe works.” That dimple appeared again. Behind me, someone cleared their throat pointedly.
“I should—” I gestured toward the door.
“Yeah, Mrs. Henderson gets violent without her cappuccino. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, Phineas with a P-H.”
Kindness from strangers always hit different when you were drowning. It was a ridiculous thought, but Drift’s invitation felt more like a lifeline.
Walking back to my car, I realized I was smiling. Actually smiling, not the practiced expression I wore like armor but something smaller, genuine.
Ben would still come home tonight, routine firmly in place. But for just a moment, in a small café that smelled like coffee and comfort, someone had made me laugh.
