I shake my head.
“Mom said he doesn’t have any family. New in town, making friends, finding his place. Maybe he’s being cautious,” Jasper says.
Addy’s gaze tells me what she’s going to say before she says it. “Have you told him anything about yourself? About your past relationships, your fears? Us?”
“No,” I admit.
“Then how can you expect him to open up if you’re not willing to do the same?” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Relationships are a two-way street, honey. If you want to know more about him, you have to be willing to be vulnerable too.”
I glance at my brother, who’s nodding his agreement.
“You’re right,” I say, leaning back against the couch. “When did you get so wise about relationships?”
“Probably around the time I finally figured out who I really am,” she says with a soft smile. “Speaking of which, Hannah and I set a date for the wedding. June fifteenth.”
“That’s great, Ads.” I pull her into a quick hug. “I’m really happy for you.”
After Addy and Jasper leave, I check my work email. As expected, there’s a flood of messages about potential hazards in the forest after the storm. Several hiking trails need to be assessed for fallen trees and damaged markers. A few emails from concerned residents mention seeing damaged branches still hanging precariously over popular walking paths.
I pull up our emergency assessment protocols on my laptop and map priority areas. The tourist trails will need to be checked first—too many visitors don’t realize how treacherous winter hiking can be, especially after a storm. I make a mental note to update our social media with trail closure notices.
I call Amelia. She’s worked with me long enough to know exactly what we’re in for, and despite her grumbling, she’s one of the best at spotting potential hazards.
“Morning, boss,” she answers, sounding barely awake. “Please tell me you’re calling to say we don’t have to do storm damage assessment today.”
“No such luck. Meet me at the office in an hour?”
She groans. “Only if you bring coffee from Special Blend. And I mean the good stuff, not that basic drip nonsense.”
“Demanding much?” I laugh.
“Hey, if you want me at my best for climbing over fallen trees all day, I need proper caffeine.”
“Fine, fine. Your usual?”
“You’re the best, boss.”
When I walk into Special Blend twenty minutes later, the bell above the door chimes cheerfully. Caspian looks up from behind the counter, and his smile makes my heart skip a beat. His hair is slightly disheveled, there’s a smudge of coffee grounds on his cheek, and he’s wearing one of my flannel shirts that he must have grabbed by mistake this morning. I must have been so distracted this morning that I didn’t even notice. He’s never looked more beautiful.
“Hey,” he says, voice warm and intimate despite the handful of customers scattered around the shop.
“Hey, yourself,” I reply, moving closer to the counter. Our eyes meet, and there’s a heated moment where we both remember exactly what we were doing this time yesterday morning.
Caspian clears his throat, cheeks flushing slightly. “Special Blend latte?”
“Yeah, plus Amelia’s vanilla oat milk latte with an extra shot.”
“Coming right up.” He starts preparing the drinks, movements precise and practiced. “Seems like your mom was baking up a storm during the storm and brought me all of these.” I point to the pastry display. “Do me a favor and pick something to take away for you and Amelia. It’s a good thing someon—thing kept me busy during the snowstorm. I would have baked as much as Catherine but with vastly different results.”
I laugh, watching his skilled hands work the espresso machine. “Sounds like some…thing awful keeping you from your baking was a good thing.”
“Oh, definitely good,” he says with a playful grin. “Completely irresistible too.”
The way he looks at me makes my chest tight. I want to reach across the counter and pull him close, but I restrain myself, very aware of the other customers in the shop.
“Listen,” I say, leaning against the counter. “I was thinking maybe we could have dinner tonight?”
“I’d love that,” Caspian says, carefully pouring steamed milk into my latte with practiced precision. “But since I’ve been at your place for the past three days, why don’t you come to mine? I’ll cook.”
