"Honey." Maeve accepts coffee from Sunny and starts adding sugar—two spoonfuls, three, four, five, Jesus how much sugar does she need—without breaking eye contact. "Holt Ward doesn't let anyone into his space. Ever. I've lived here my whole life and I've never even been inside that loft. The fact that you're living there? That he gave you his actual bedroom? That's huge."
"He needed someone to answer phones—"
"He could've hired literally anyone who doesn't require housing."
"My car died—"
"And he could've pointed you to a motel. Could've told you to figure it out yourself. Could've done any number of things that didn't involve giving you his personal space." She takes a sip of coffee, grimaces, adds another spoonful of sugar. "But hedidn't. He took you in. Made sure you had a job and a place to stay. And I'm willing to bet he's not charging you market rate for that room."
I open my mouth. Close it. "How do you know what I'm paying?"
"Small town." She shrugs like this is obvious. "Mrs. Whitlow told her daughter who told her husband who told Mitch who told everyone at Gas and Groceries. We don't have secrets here. It's horrifying but also kind of comforting? You get used to it."
"That's horrifying."
"See? You're learning already." She grins. "But seriously, you don't look like you're leaving."
The words slip out before I can stop them. "I'm not."
Her grin widens, satisfaction in every line of it. "Good. We like you. You made Holt smile, which is basically a miracle on par with loaves and fishes. And you give Finn someone to bother besides Holt, which means Holt might actually live past forty without murdering him."
"I haven't seen Holt smile."
She takes another sip. "So what are you doing today? Besides sitting here looking confused and sweaty?"
"Exploring. Seeing what this town looks like beyond the shop and this diner and the stretch of highway where my car died."
"Perfect. I'm off in twenty minutes. I'll show you around."
"You don't have to—"
"Too late. We're friends now. I've decided." She slides off the stool. "Finish your coffee. I'll be back."
She disappears into the kitchen before I can protest, leaving me sitting there with Sunny, who's trying very hard not to laugh.
"Don't fight it," Sunny says, refilling my cup. "You're hers now. Resistance is futile."
"Does anyone in this town understand the concept of boundaries?"
"Not really, no." She pats my hand. "But we mean well. Mostly. Sometimes."
I finish my coffee—add more sugar because if Maeve can drink liquid candy then so can I—and watch the diner flow around me. Conversations layering over each other, laughter bubbling up from corner booths, the sound of someone's fork scraping against a plate. It's loud and warm and chaotic in a way that should overwhelm me but doesn't. It just feels alive. Like the opposite of every careful, controlled, quiet place I've been before.
True to her word, Maeve reappears twenty minutes later, apron off and ready to go.
"Okay!" She's practically bouncing. "Official Coyote Bend tour. You ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope. Come on."
I pay for the coffee—Sunny tries to wave me off but I insist because I'm not taking charity even if I'm barely surviving financially—and follow Maeve into the heat.
It hits like a wall. Like walking into an oven. Like God personally decided this town didn't deserve reasonable temperatures. The sundress immediately plasters itself back to my skin.
"First stop," Maeve announces, walking fast, "Gas and Groceries. Mitch's place. You'll love him. He's like if Santa Claus was a gossip and also sold lottery tickets."
She's walking at a pace that suggests the heat doesn't affect her, which seems deeply unfair. I'm already sweating innew and creative places while she just strolls along like we're on a pleasant spring morning instead of the surface of the sun.
