I stopped writing and looked up at him. “Explain.”
“It’s cornhole,” he said, spreading his hands as if it were obvious. “But festive. Holiday-themed. With reindeer antlers on the boards and jingle bells that ring when you score.”
I sighed with extra dramatic flair and wrote it down, even though I was already picturing how cute it would look set up in the town square.
Esmerelda chose that moment to nudge my boot again—traitor—and I shot her a glare that did nothing to discourage her continued meddling in my crumbling resolve.
“Okay.” I scanned my notes and did a quick tally. “We’ve got sixteen solid ideas, in case some of them don’t work out or turn into complete disasters.”
He looked genuinely pleased, his whole face lighting up in a way that did dangerous things to my pulse. “This is really good. Better than good, actually. People are going to love this.”
“Don’t get excited yet.” I closed my notebook with a snap. “We’re not bonding over holiday planning. This is just... professional collaboration.”
“Sure.” That infuriating smile spread across his face like he didn’t believe me for even half a second. “Strictly professional.”
I checked the time on my phone and jolted upright, almost knocking over my travel coffee mug. “Okay—I have to go. Like, seriously right now.”
“So soon?” There was something almost disappointed in his voice that I could not think about.
“Yes. I have three different syrup flavors to finish before tomorrow, pastries to prep for the morning rush, beans to grind, and inventory to check. Plus, my morning regulars will burn down civilization if I’m not stocked and caffeinated by six AM.”
He stood too, unfolding from his chair with that easy grace that shouldn’t be legal. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“No,” I said, then caught the slight hurt that flashed across his features and softened my voice a fraction. “I’m good. Really. I can handle a thirty-foot walk to my car without an escort.”
Esmerelda followed me to the barn door, her little bell chiming a farewell that sounded almost mournful. I tried not to read too much into the fact that even the donkey seemed sad to see me go.
“Well,” Powell shoved his hands deep into his pockets in a gesture that was somehow both casual and vulnerable. “This was… good.”
“It was not a moment,” I warned, pointing at him with my car keys. “Don’t make it weird.”
His smile was warm and impossible to ignore, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made my stomach do things I refused to acknowledge. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Next,” I said, backing toward my car like he might follow if I didn’t establish clear boundaries. “Bring real plans on execution. No vague prophecies or wishful thinking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was something almost fond in the way he said it that made my cheeks warm.
I slid into my car before I could do something catastrophically stupid like smile back, or worse, suggest we grab dinner to continue planning. The engine turned over with a reliable purr, and I forced myself not to glance in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the driveway.
As I turned onto the county road, my headlights cutting through the gathering dusk, I realized—with growing horror—that the ground under my carefully constructed, decade-long grudge wasn’t as solid as it used to be. In fact, it felt suspiciously like it might be developing cracks.
And that was going to be a problem. A big one.
FIVE
POWELL
By the time I got to the station, the scent of hay still clung to me like Esmerelda had claimed me as family. Which, to be fair, she kind of had. I owed her a molasses treat. Maybe two. The little menace kept nudging my shoulder during the planning meeting like she was personally invested in Jess Donnegan liking me again.
Not that Jess had liked me before.
But today had been… different.
She’d rolled her eyes at me only about half the usual amount. She’d laughed—a single startled, begrudging puff of a laugh, but still. And she’d let herself be charmed by Esmerelda, just a little, even if she’d tried to hide it. Which proved she wasn’t immune. Because no one was immune to the little stinker’s cuteness.
I’d spent the whole drive back to town replaying that moment she’d asked “Why Donkey?” like she was granting me temporary access to her curiosity. I didn’t get many cracks in her armor. That one had seemed like a gift.
Moose wandered past me in the bay, sipping the station coffee like it wasn’t basically caffeinated mud. “You’ve got a face,” he announced.
