The morning rush hits Special Blend like a caffeine-craving wave. I barely have time to think about Nate between making lattes and serving muffins, which is probably for the best. The regulars seem especially chatty today, maybe because of the snow, and I find myself falling into an easy rhythm of small talk and coffee-making.
“This muffin is…lovely,” Mrs. Henderson says. “The pecans really make it special.”
I’m not sure she means it, but she’s taking another bite, so maybe they’re not so bad. I’m about to thank her when the bell above the door chimes, and Felix walks in, unwinding a colorful scarf from his neck. His cheeks are pink from the cold, and he looks slightly frazzled.
“Please tell me you have something warm and caffeinated,” he says, approaching the counter. “I just spent an hour at the craft store trying to find the perfect gift for a seven-year-old who, according to Arya, is ‘obsessed with unicorns but only the sparkly kind, not the regular kind.’”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place for post-shopping therapy,” I say, starting to prepare my newest specialty drink. “How about trying today’s feature? It’s a maple-cinnamon latte with a hint of nutmeg. I call it Winter Comfort.”
Felix slumps onto one of the barstools at the counter. “That sounds perfect. And one of whatever Mrs. Henderson is having,” he adds, eyeing her muffin. “They look amazing.”
“Maple pecan muffins,” I tell him, sliding one onto a plate. “Fresh baked last night.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Felix says, then leans forward conspiratorially. “So, anything interesting happen this morning? You seem…different. Good different.”
I feel my cheeks warm, and not from the steam of the espresso machine. “Different how?”
“I don’t know,” he says, studying me. “You’re kind of…glowing? Please tell me there’s a story there.”
I busy myself with the latte art, trying to keep my voice casual. “Nothing to tell. Just helped my neighbor shovel snow this morning.”
“Mm-hmm.” Felix hums skeptically. “Would this be the same gorgeous neighbor you mentioned the other day? The one with the blue eyes?”
The foam heart I’m trying to create turns into more of a blob as my hand jerks slightly. “Maybe?”
Felix’s eyes light up. “Oh, there’s definitely a story there. Spill!”
“There’s nothing to spill,” I insist, though I can feel my face getting warmer. “We’re just friends. Very specifically, deliberately just friends.”
“Uh-huh,” Felix says, sipping his latte. “And how’s that working out for you?”
I think about this morning—Nate’s arms around me, his breath on my neck, the way time seemed to stop when our eyes met. “It’s…complicated.”
“The best stories usually are,” Felix says with a knowing smile. “But sometimes the complicated ones turn out to be worth it.”
I hand him his muffin, grateful for the distraction of another customer walking in. “Maybe,” I say noncommittally. “But for now, I’m focusing on getting this place ready for the Winter Wishes Festival. Speaking of which, are you bringing the girls?”
Felix allows the subject change, launching into his daughters’ excitement about the festival, but his knowing look tells me this conversation isn’t over. As I listen to him talk about Elsa’s and Arya’s plans for their wishes, I can’t help but wonder what wish I might hang on the tree myself.
Something about blue eyes and shared driveways comes to mind, but I quickly push the thought away. After all, we agreed to be just friends.
Even if my heart keeps forgetting to listen.
CHAPTER 13
NATE
I shift the gift box in my hands as I climb the familiar steps to my parents’ house. The January wind whips around me, but I barely notice it anymore after years of working outdoors.
Before I can knock, the door swings open, and Mom’s there with her usual bright smile. “Nate! Perfect timing, honey.” She pulls me into a quick hug, careful not to jostle the gift I’m carrying.
A blur of pink glitter and dark curls races past Mom. “Uncle Nate!” Lottie crashes into my legs, nearly knocking me off balance. “What did you bring me? Is it my present? Can I open it now?”
“Lottie.” My brother’s stern voice carries from the hallway as he appears behind her. “What did we just talk about? Birthdays aren’t all about presents.”
My niece heaves a dramatic sigh that only a seven-year-old can manage. “I know, Dad.” She looks up at me with those big brown eyes that are impossible to resist. “But maybe just one tiny peek?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” I glance at Jasper, who shakes his head but gives me a slight nod.
