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“It was pretty intense,” Jenn agreed.

“Do you think you’ll get a bit more time to yourself now?” Ruairidh asked, and it felt like there was something more unsaid in that question.

“Surely.” Jenn laughed, tucking a loose strand behind her ear as if that tiny movement could break the simmering sensation between them. Or was it just her?

“But knowing your sister, I’m sure she’ll still have me enlisted in all sorts of shenanigans.”

Ruairidh gave a genuine smile at that. Those smiles were really something. They changed his whole demeanour. Lit up his entire face.

“Màiri is something else. She’s been like that since the day she was born. At least now she largely channels her… energy… into community stuff rather than annoying her siblings.”

Jenn smiled. They just looked at each other, the moment stretching.

Ruairidh always had that look—like he could see straight through to your soul. How did he even do that? She didn’t know what to say. This guy seemed to turn her into a rambling mess or leave her at a loss for words.

He drew a breath, as if he was going to say something else. Something more. For a heartbeat, she wanted to ask him to say it. But he didn’t.

“Cinnamon buns all gone?” he finally asked, nodding to the trays.

“Almost. You want one?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Go on, and one for Enrique too. We’ve got a pretty full schedule today. Including your Spanish friend.”

Jenn raised a brow. “You’re flying him out?”

“Looks that way.”

Their eyes met. Something passed between them—familiar and quiet, like a held breath neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

She passed him the bagged-up cinnamon buns, fingers brushing the side of his hand before she could stop herself. Warm. Steady. Trouble. And God, the way he looked at her—like she was something worth pausing for.

“Enjoy the cinnamon bun,” she said, lighter than she felt.

Ruairidh paused. “I’d rather—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Thanks.”

He gave a small nod, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “See you around.”

Jenn swallowed, brushing an invisible crumb off the counter. “Yeah. See you.”

He started walking away, and Enrique stood to follow him.

Enrique didn’t slow as he passed Jenn—just flicked her a sideways glance full of mischief. His smirk was pure sass.

“Adiós, yoga goddess,” he murmured. “Going to miss me?”

He was nearly past her when he added, lower still, “Although… looks like you’ve picked your favourite pilot.” He winked.

Ruairidh’s shoulders went taut. She saw the tension in that glorious back, obvious even beneath the crisp white shirt. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.

And as Ruairidh turned to look at Enrique approaching him, Jenn caught the flicker—the tick of his jaw, a brief tightening around the eyes. Small. Sharp. Enough.

Just like that, Ruairidh and Enrique disappeared through the door too. And suddenly, the breeze from the beach felt much too warm.

Jenn wiped her hands on her apron and flapped herself with her top. She looked out at the plane, low sun glinting off the windows, sea beyond it like glass. She didn’t feel wistful, exactly. Javi had been a good summer chapter—that’s all he was. But she didn’t feel untouched either. Something had shifted. Maybe it was just the season. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Jenn turned back to the coffee pot, the low hum of the machine filling the silence. Javi was right about one thing. She was here now. And she was starting to wonder what that might really mean.

And whether it involved a certain hot, complicated, cool, steady, definitely-not-casual pilot.