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He pays with a card, then drops a few bills in the tip jar shaped like a peach and stalks over to a booth by the window.Mybooth by the window. It has the perfect view of the town square with a sliver of the lake in the distance. And he’s stolen it from me. My face scrunches up in frustration and of course, this is the moment he looks over at me. He raises an eyebrow. My face heats and I whip back around to meet Poppy’s knowing gaze.
“I’ve got your croissant in the warmer already. What tea are we thinking today?”
I study the seasonal menu and I’m instantly annoyed that the one Adrian chose sounds the best for my mood. I know I can try it tomorrow without him here, but then my routine is off even more than it already is and I’ll have to deal with the post-church café traffic. The place fills up fast with a bunch of angry old sloths–aka the residents–grumbling and shoving each other in slow motion.
“I’ll take a mint chocolate tea latte,” I grumble and ignore Poppy’s twinkling brown eyes.
Just because Adrian chose it doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on a delicious mint tea latte sweetened with homemade dark chocolate sauce. My grudge against him does not beat my love of chocolate. If it can even be called a grudge. What would I say if he asked me why I was mad at him?I’m upset because you refused to let me pick up the trash in your driveway and also your commanding voice made my knees weak.Yeah, that wouldn’t make me sound weird at all.
“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll have it out shortly.”
My black Mary Janes click against the tile floor as I walk over to the booth that borders Adrian’s. It’s still by the window, but there’s a pillar that mars my perfect view. What I should do is sit with my back facing Adrian, pull out my book, and pretend he doesn’t exist for the next few hours. But something about this man makes me want to do the opposite of what I should do just to see how he reacts.
So, I plop myself down in the booth facing him and drop my tote bag on the table, the loud thump garnering his attention. His cool blue eyes watch me under full black lashes as he types away on a grey laptop in front of him. Under the weight of his gaze, my plan to unnerve him seems rather foolish, but I’ve already committed.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I ask him as I pull out my worn copy ofThe Great Gatsby. I’ve read it many times and it never gets old. There’s something magnetic about the tragic tale.
Adrian responds with a grunt. Poppy waltzes over to deliver tea to each of us from the serving tray on her shoulder, then an almond croissant to just me. I sip my delicious drink and watch him over the rim of my mug. I prefer to drink tea out of ornate tea cups when I’m at home, but here Poppy serves them in bowl-like mugs.
“This tea is amazing, you have good taste,” I comment as he lifts his mug. My eyes zero in on the movement, watching his lips graze the rim. His eyes meet mine, each of us studying the other through the steam billowing from our tea. We take a sip at the same time and it feels too intimate with our eyes locked like this. I tear my gaze away and set my cup down a little too hard on the table. Hot liquid splashes out onto my thumb and I hiss in pain.
“Shoot,” I mumble, clenching my jaw and scrambling for a napkin.
The sound of movement draws my eyes away from my throbbing hand up to the counter where Adrian now stands. Poppy passes him a rag and he crosses the small shop in quick strides. When he kneels down beside me my breath catches.
“Here, this should help.” His hands are gentle as he dabs at the red skin with the cool cloth.
“I’m okay,” I murmur, but he continues his ministration, his brow furrowed. “Really, I think I was just caught off guard. The tea wasn’t that hot.”
“You should keep the cloth on your hand,” he says in a low voice. “But you’re right, it doesn’t look too bad.” He drapes the rag over my hand, then pushes up to standing.
“Thank you.”
He merely nods, then returns to his seat as if nothing happened. The return to normalcy makes me wonder if I dreamt him kneeling beside me. If I didn’t dream it just now, I know I will tonight.
Chapter four
Adrian Carter
Islideoutofthe worn leather booth I’ve been occupying for the last three hours, content with the work I accomplished. My main job is to assess our clients’ needs and match them with the right team to protect them. Then, while our company is working for them, I get updates from the teams to be sure everything is going well. Our clients are typically wealthy and high profile like athletes and heiresses, so managing them at a high level is important.
It’s easy to spend hours in my email inbox each day, no matter the day of the week. And even though working on a Saturday makes me seem like a workaholic, I prefer to keep my work outside of my home. The boundary line between the personal and professional areas of my life helps me feel in control. So, that’s how I found myself in the quaint cinnamon-scented café, Peaches and Cream.
The same café that–based on her and the owner’s rapport–Juliette must frequent. A fact I will note for the future. I slide my laptop into my gray leather messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder. I’m about to head to the door when the café clerk, Poppy, bustles out from the back carrying a to-go bag and a plastic cup with what looks to be iced tea inside of it.
“Here you go, sweet girl. One turkey pesto sandwich and one peachy keen iced tea.”
My eyes flick up to the menu that tells me a peachy keen tea is a southern iced tea sweetened with peach simple syrup. I have to admit, that sounds delicious. My sister MJ got me into tea when she went on a health kick in college. Ever since she introduced it to me, I’ve been addicted. I purchased an oversized apothecary cabinet just for tea and it won’t be long before I outgrow that if I keep buying new ones.
“Thanks, Poppy! See you next week,” Juliette says and Poppy gives her a one-armed hug.
I walk to the door right as Juliette is looping her bags over her arm. Her honey-blonde hair is radiant today, bathed in the sunlight cascading through the windowpane. Like everything about Juliette, it looks incredibly soft. It took every ounce of my self-control earlier to not touch her skin while handling her burn. I shouldn’t have gotten up at all, but pure instinct took over when I saw the flash of pain in her bright green eyes.
The same green eyes that are watching me with too much curiosity as I stand frozen by the door. I’ve been caught staring, which is unusual for me. I’m used to blending into the background and being careful enough to observe from a distance. My job required it. But Juliette seems to have this uncanny ability to make me stumble.
I push open the shop door as she approaches, a gold bell tinkling overhead. Juliette smiles and glides past me out into the brisk January air, murmuring a quickthanks. Since it’s almost noon, the sun takes away some of the bite that this morning had, but it’s still cold enough to have me tucking my hands into my coat pocket and huddling into my coat. Winter in Georgia might not compare to the northern states, but it’s cold enough to make you want to be anywhere but outside.
I start off toward my house. It’s a short walk, and the parking situation in this community is dismal. Everyone seems to walk everywhere instead of drive. I don’t mind the exercise, though.
