Hazel smiled around the lip of her mug as she took another sip. The wind tugged a strand of her hair forward and she tucked it behind her ear.
“You here on a mission?” he asked, nodding toward her cup. “Or just taking a walk to cool off?”
Hazel raised an eyebrow, startled by how easy he had been able to read her. “That obvious?”
“You’re not hard to read. Most people pretend to walk… you storm.”
That made her huff another laugh, despite herself. “I prefer to call it ‘purposeful striding.’”
Then, after a beat, she shrugged, her eyes drifting away. She watched the water for a few breaths, her eyes following the waves as they crested and then settled. “Had a frustrating phone call. Business stuff.”
He didn’t press but she could feel the weight of his gaze still on her face.
She hesitated for a second, then stepped forward and held out her coffee. “Want some? It’s pretty strong today. You could probably fix an engine with it.”
Beck blinked at the offer but didn’t question it. His fingers brushed hers as he took the mug, calloused, warm, and steady, and Hazel’s breath caught, though she hid it behind a faint smile. The contrast startled her: the way his hand dwarfed the cup she could barely wrap one of hers around, the way the stainless steel seemed small and almost delicate between his fingers.
He glanced down at the drink, then up at her, like he was checking that it was okay, that this was really happening. She nodded once and he brought the mug to his lips.
Hazel didn’t mean to watch, not really.
But she did anyways. She couldn’t help herself.
Her eyes were drawn to the way his mouth curved around the rim, deliberate and unhurried. To the way his throat moved as he swallowed, exposed just slightly where the neckline of his tee hung loose and soft at the edges. His other hand rested at his hip, relaxed, unaware of the way her stomach turned as he drank from the exact same spot her mouth had been seconds before.
The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than five heartbeats, but her skin was buzzing.
Beck finished the sip and lowered the mug, licking a trace of coffee from his bottom lip in one unconscious flick. He looked at her, not with anything obvious, just that same steady awareness he always seemed to carry. Like he was listening, even when she hadn’t said anything.
“It’s good,” he said, offering it back.
Hazel took the mug, letting her fingers brush his again, this time on purpose. Her pulse kicked but she didn’t show it. Beck’s eyes flickered down to the point of contact and then drifted away, out towards the water.
“I only serve the best,” she said, cradling the mug against her chest like armour. “Or so I’ve been told.”
That brought the smallest of smiles to his lips, barely there but unmistakable. The kind that said he remembered. Not just the coffee, but that morning, a few weeks ago, when he’d told her she made a mean cup of coffee— even though all she ever did was brew it and pour.
His gaze lingered on the horizon and something in it had hardened.
They stood like that for a moment, the quiet stretching out between them. The water shifted gently below, lapping against the boardwalk in soft, uneven beats.
“Storm’s coming,” Beck said finally, his dark eyes still fixed on the sky. “Later tonight, maybe into tomorrow. Got the feel of it in the air.”
Hazel followed his gaze. The sky looked swollen and heavy, grey thickening into slate at the edges. The wind dragged low across the docks, rustling the loose edges of the canvas tarps and setting a weathered buoy swaying on its chain, its hollow clank echoing over the water.
“You have everything covered?” he asked. His voice was quieter this time, gentler. His eyes stayed on the horizon, but there was something else tucked beneath the words… concern, maybe. A kind that felt personal.
Hazel nodded, though his eyes hadn’t found hers yet. Her gaze remained fixed to his profile, studying the sharp curve of his jaw. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve got backup generators at the house and the bakery, just in case.”
That finally made him look at her.
And when he did, it wasn’t just a glance, it was a study. A slow, steady taking-in, like he was checking for cracks. Like he didn’t quite believe the answer unless he could see it for himself. Hazel held the look, her fingers curling tighter around her coffee, as if somehow it would make her feel stronger beneath his prodding gaze.
After a beat, Beck extended a hand, his palm open towards her. “You got your phone?”
Hazel blinked. “My phone?”
“Pass it here. Just for a second.”
