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The smell of coffee faded. The lights glowed in romantic hues. For over a decade, she’d dreamed of his lips on hers, and when he edged closer, she melted into him.
His mouth brushed her forehead.
Her cheek.
Her lips.
ChapterSeven
Duke pulled Scarlet tighter.He dared to open to the possibility that miracles might still exist in the world. Because the minute he slid his lips softly across her mouth and she gasped, he knew life would never taste sweeter.
A light flicked on overhead, shattering the cozy kitchen in blinding rays.
He blinked and turned enough to catch a glimpse of Laura standing with her mouth dropped open and her eyes wide. “Oh, um. Sorry. I didn’t know.” She waved both her palms at them and backstepped to the light switch, flicked it off, and disappeared.
But when he turned to reengage, Scarlet bolted. He caught sight of the golden-red flames of her hair retreating. Standing on the other side of the counter, she shifted between feet and kept her gaze on the ground. “Right, um. I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m sorry, you do need to go make your deliveries, and I need to open up shop. Listen… leave your papers here and I’ll look them over and get them back to you this afternoon.”
He looked down at the sludge of white papers saturated In brown brew on the floor—vital documents he’d abandoned to go to her aide. “Doesn’t look like you have much to work with here.”
She gasped and rushed back, collapsing onto her hands and knees in front of him, swiping the mess into a puddle of worthless, saturated, torn papers.
“Stop. There’s no saving them.”
“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be saved,” she whispered, but he heard every word. Words that popped his hope balloon.
She flung her hair back and eyed the mess. “Please, tell me you have this on your computer.”
The hair slid right back over her face. He didn’t dare brush it out of the way or help her up because he knew the moment had ended and there was no recovering it right now. Not the way she kept her distance and her lips far enough away not to engage again. She was doing that looking-everywhere-but-him move Duke had perfected long ago when he’d be on a bad date.
But he wouldn’t give up. He’d taste her lips, and when he kissed her, she’d finally believe how much he loved her. Had always loved her. “Yes, of course. I can drop another copy off later.”
“Or you could email it.” She shrugged but didn’t stand.
He stepped around, allowing her to stay on the floor despite his inner Southern gentleman screaming at him to help her up. “I’ll email them to you, but if you really want to help, I need you to talk me through your changes.”
It wasn’t a lie—he wasn’t good with written notes; he’d found out long ago that he was more of a doer than a visual learner.
“Right, sure.”
He about faced and ran smack into Laura hiding in the shadows.
A giggle sounded, and she held two thumbs up at him. “Way to go,” she whispered.
All the way to his truck, down the street, and through all his deliveries, his mind rested back on their almost kiss. It wasn’t until he reached Ramen Johnson’s farm to deliver the damaged produce that he realized he didn’t remember half his morning.
The old yellowed farmhouse and brown barn stood out against the fallen snow. A pretty plot of land in the winter. Duke pulled up into the circular dirt drive and shut off the engine.
The weathered posts and front porch needed work before decay set in, but it wasn’t his place to say anything.
Duke got out and heaved the bag from the truck and tossed it on the ground before he stretched and inhaled the fresh scent of pine. A woodpecker hammered a steady beat nearby. And darker snow clouds drifted closer to Cherry Creek.
Ramen came out of his barn, removing his gloves but tipping his hat lower on his head as if to hide the scars that kept him hidden away from the world. “Hey, you. Told you not to go out of your way.”
The man around the same age as Duke stood a couple inches taller and several inches wider in the shoulders.
“It’s no bother. I enjoyed the extra drive before getting back to my place.” Duke scooted the bag of food scraps to the grassy knoll. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t leave here to pick anything up.”
“They still calling me the Haunted Hermit?” Ramen chuckled.
