And God, she didn’t want him to read her. Didn’t want him to see how torn up she was about, well, everything. Her life, her lack of accomplishments. Hell, her lack ofambition. Her dismal love life and the fact that she still ached—physically ached—for his touch. Worst of all, she didn’t want him to see how badly his leaving still hurt her. How deeply the wound had cut.
And apparently, all that was written on her face because he didn’t press. Instead, with a tip of his head toward Caleb, Hudson said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
She nodded and turned away, still able to feel his eyes on her as she filled a mug with the beer, but she didn’t dare meet his gaze. Instead, once she dropped off his glass, she did another round, occupying herself by getting refills, clearing plates, and wiping down the bar top after a few people had cleared out.
She needed to make her way back to where the four of them sat to take their orders, but she didn’t really want to. And by the time she’d psyched herself up enough to do so, she was dragged into an argument between Atticus and Darcy, two Havenbrook residents with businesses in the Square.
“All I’m sayin’, Atticus, is to put your garbage cans where they belong and not in front of my coffee shop.”
“Your coffee shop doesn’t extend to the alley, which is exactly where the cans are.”
Darcy huffed. “But that alley is the perfect place for a couple outdoor tables, and my customers would like to enjoy their mornin’ coffee without smellin’ your nasty garbage!”
Atticus’s face had turned an obnoxious shade of red. “How about we go on over to town hall and talk to the mayor about what kind of permit you’d need for outdoor seatin’, ’cause I bet you didn’t get one.”
“Are you suggestin’ I’m not runnin’ my business on the up-and-up?” Darcy all but shouted.
“Hey now,” Mac cut in. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement that makes everyone happy.”
“The only thing that’ll make me happy is if she quits harpin’ on me to move my garbage cans. Where else am I supposed to put ’em? That’s exactly what the alley is for!”
Darcy slammed her hand down on the bar top. “Not anymore! Didn’t you notice the potted plants and decorations back there? Or, I don’t know, the lovely wrought-iron tables and chairs?”
Atticus shrugged. “Just figured it was more trash from your place.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open.
Before either of them could go on, Mac held up a hand. “Take it easy, y’all. Atticus, do you think maybe your clients would like to enjoy a cup of coffee and read the paper while waitin’ for their furry loved ones to finish their grooming appointments with you?”
“I—” Atticus cut off and scowled. “A few customers may have mentioned something about going over there once or twice.”
“Mhmm. And Darcy, wouldn’t it be nice to bring in a steady stream of extra customers who would’ve maybe skipped it instead?”
Darcy crossed her arms. “I guess so.”
“So then wouldn’t you both agree that the shared alley could be a mutually beneficial space? Y’all can do an exchange—Darcy, you can offer his grooming clients their first cup of coffee for free if they’re waitin’ for their pets. And Atticus, you can offer five dollars off a grooming with receipt from Jitterbug.”
It took a bit more finesse and convincing, but by the time Mac walked away, Darcy and Atticus were all smiles, their heads close as they outlined their new mutual referral program.
“You’re good at that.” Hudson’s voice startled her as she walked back toward where the foursome had been sitting. Except he’d left the group and sat completely apart from them now. Will had taken up his previous spot, chatting with Lilah and Caleb, though Mac wasn’t fooled. Her sister had ears like a fucking hawk, and Mac had no doubt she was eavesdropping.
“Good at what?”
He tipped his head toward the two patrons who were now the best of friends. “Diplomacy.”
“That’s a soldier word if I’ve ever heard one. Around here, we just call it not bein’ an asshole.”
“Yeah, well. You’re good at gettin’ people not to be assholes, then.”
She lifted a single shoulder. “Sometimes.”
He stared at her, his eyes darting between hers. Dropping only once to her lips before snapping back up. She felt that drop all the way to her toes. “Come to supper with me tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” she said without hesitation, grateful she had the excuse of her shift at The Willow Tree to fall back on because she still wasn’t ready for this.
At least with the pact they’d made, she’d had time to prepare. She’d have been able to work herself up and figure out a game plan as to how it’d go when she saw him again. But this? This impromptu drop-in after a decade was too damn much for her brain—not to mention her heart—to handle.
“Plans again?”
