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She nods. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”
I give her an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
“And for the record, the firefighter is swoony.” A smile. “Like something out of one of our favorite novels.”
“You too, Gracie?” I shake my head and scan the little circle of traitors. “You guys are way off-base. I’m not catching feelings for Owen, whatever that means. The guy’s been gone for eight years. I’m not falling in love with some savior, no matter how photogenic he may be.” I can practically hear the safety deposit box around my feelings slamming shut, and I picture myself throwing the key off a cliff.
“Well, that’s a relief.” A male voice stuns us all silent.
At that precise moment, Mack shifts on her stool, and when she does, I see Owen standing directly behind her.
I mentally feel the life drain from my body as I melt into a puddle of goo like the drenched Wicked Witch of the West.
“Owen,” I say his name on an exhale and wish I could suck it back in. Owen Larrabee is here, in my shop. He’s wearing black Nike joggers, a gray Appies hoodie in honor of Harvest Hollow’s beloved minor league hockey team, and a pair of black cross trainers.
And he looks so good.
Holy heck.
My insides start to hum.
“Swoony,” Gracie sighs so quietly only I can hear it. My cashier, Reagan rings her up, hands her a coffee and an apple cinnamon scone, and my former kindred spirit takes a seat in a nearby armchair, clearly too invested to leave just yet.
Peggy hops down off of her stool, walks right over to him and pokes him in the chest. “You deserve a medal for what you did last night, Mr. Larrabee.”
Owen grunts. There’s the Owen I knew.
And loved.
“I watched the whole thing, and it was very impressive.” She pulls her hand back and leans in. “But you keep your distance from Emaline.”
His eyes dart to mine, and I have to look away. Concurrent waves of embarrassment wash over me, and all I can picture is the fire, and the smoke, and him reaching out to me, and. . .
“I’m just here for coffee, ma’am,” he says.
His voice shakes me back to reality. It’s strong and sure, just like it was last night. I’ll carry it like a touchstone in my pocket, even if it is coming from the one man I can never allow myself to get close to again.
Peggy is all Rachel Lynde from Anne of Green Gables. She’s blunt and assuming and in everybody’s business.
I’m still looking for her redeemable qualities.
“As long as that’s all you’re here for.” Peggy motions to Meg and they walk out of the shop, leaving me standing behind the counter with Owen just inside the door—and Mack between us.
I’m horribly aware that my busy little shop has gotten very, very quiet. A quick scan of the tables and armchairs tells me what I need to know—everyone is watching this interaction.
Everyone is invested in the firefighter and the helpless girl whose life he saved.
What, do you want us to pose!? I yell at them in my mind.
Wait. Do you? Because I will.
My cheeks flush.
And then Mack laughs. “Oh man, Peggy is out of her mind. She obviously doesn’t know anything about your dating life.”
Translation: Owen would never date someone like me.
Mack motions to the stool next to hers. “I recommend the caramel latte.”
