I lifted the box lamely. “Delivery from Tapped Amber. For your guests, the Pattersons.”
“You’re doing deliveries?” His tone was flat, but I could hear the accusation beneath it. You left for bigger things, but now you’re back doing deliveries?
“Lori’s doctor has her on bedrest, and the moms are behind on the holiday rush, so I took a few weeks off to help them.” I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look, wearing a sticky apron over my designer jeans.
Eli leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The gesture pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, showing me muscle definition that made my mouth go dry.
“Been in town long?”
The casual question carried a serrated edge that sliced right through me.
“Three days. Lori went into early labor and needed to be rushed to the hospital—”
“Yeah, I heard. Are she and the baby doing okay on bed rest?”
“She’s not thrilled about it, but they’re fine. I came into town because she can’t work at Tapped Amber because she needs to avoid stress, and our moms are in a panic.”
“So you’ve been in town for three days,” he said. “Interesting. Must be very busy if you couldn’t find five minutes to tell me you were back.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I was going to stop by.”
“Sure you were.” His laugh was short and harsh. “Just like you were going to stay in touch after you left. Just like you were going to visit. Just like all those promises you made.”
“That’s not fair.” My calm professional demeanor evaporated. “You were the one who made it impossible—”
“Impossible?” Eli pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, and I caught his scent, pine and wood smoke. I wanted to lean in and bury myself in his familiar scent, to brush my lips against his throat and taste him. But he was determined to argue. His jaw clenched with anger. “You made your choice pretty fucking clear, Luke.”
We stared at each other, six years of silence between us like a minefield. My hands shook, the box trembling in my grip. This wasn’t how I’d imagined our reunion. Not that I’d let myself imagine it often, but in the rare moments I’d daydreamed about our reunion, I’d pictured something full of heat and frantic need. And I’d imagined a lot more kissing, not that he’d ever wanted that.
Didn’t he at least want to hug? A wave of hurt washed over me, followed by anger, because Eli couldn’t ever let things go.
“Just take the fucking order.” I shoved the basket against his chest, forcing him to grab it or let it fall. “Great to see you too, Eli. I enjoyed catching up.”
I spun on my heel and stalked back to the van, not trusting myself to speak. Behind me, the inn’s door slammed shut with a force that shook the porch railing.
Inside the van, I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, struggling to breathe through the tightness in my chest. Hot tears pressed against my eyelids, and I blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall.
“Fuck,” I whispered, then louder, “Fuck!” I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, the sharp pain distracting me from the ache in my chest.
Even after six years, Eli’s presence brought everything back—the hurt, the longing, and the bitter knowledge that I’d lost something irreplaceable.
I leaned my forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel, fighting to regain control. This was why I’d stayed away.
Chapter 2
Eli
The email from TappedAmber Confections sat in my inbox like a time bomb, with a subject that punched the air from my lungs.
I stared at it for five minutes, my finger hovering over the delete button, before I clicked it open. Six years of silence, a disastrous reunion on the Honeyfern Inn’s front stoop, and now he wanted coffee?
My throat tightened as I remembered how he’d looked yesterday. He’d been wearing designer jeans with a ridiculous apron probably borrowed from Maggie. His hair had been perfectly styled, his face somehow sharper, jawline more defined than when we were twenty-one. Fuck him for still being the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I read the message twice, desperate to understand the tone.
Eli,
I wanted to apologize for yesterday. There’s a lot we should talk about, and I’d like to catch up if you’re willing. Coffee at The Maple Cafe tomorrow at 11? My treat.
