Worse, my thoughts kept wandering.
It had been nearly a week since girls’ night at the Public House, and I still couldn’t shake the image of him on the dance floor. The way he’d filled up the room justby walking in, broad and brooding, that unreadable scowl tugging at his mouth. The way he’d looked at me—like I’d been the only one in there. The way his body had felt crowded up next to mine. The heat of him and how he’d filled out that flannel. It shouldn’t be so hot. I hadn’t felt those butterflies in my stomach around a man before.
And then the way he’d left, polite enough to sting, gruff enough to keep me guessing, just when I thought maybe we were going to say something real, or like maybe he was going to ask me out.
I hadn’t told Sage. Not really. She’d pressed me on the walk home, her eyes all knowing, but I’d shrugged it off. Girls’ night had been for dancing, laughing, and tequila, not for dissecting my confusing feelings about her brother.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about them now.
“Earth to Lila.” Mia snapped her fingers in front of my face. Her pink streaks had been refreshed the day before, practically neon against her light hair. She tipped her chin at the muffins cooling behind me. “Are those going to box themselves, or are we experimenting with telekinesis again?”
I blinked, realizing the tray had been sitting untouched while three customers waited. “Right. Sorry.” I reached for the parchment sheets, trying not to look guilty.
“Uh-huh,” Mia said under her breath, smirking as she poured a cappuccino. “Definitely not thinking about anyone in particular.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, heat crawling up my neck. “I’m thinking about inventory.”
“Sure,” she drawled. “Inventory that happens to wear flannel and scowls like it’s a profession?”
I choked on a laugh. “Mia!”
The customer waiting for her drink grinned at the exchange, and I felt my ears turn red. Perfect. Small-town life meant nothing stayed secret. Not even half-formed crushes on surly men who had no business making me blush like a teenager.
I shoved the pastry boxes across the counter and focused on the task at hand. Still, my thoughts kept circling back, stubborn and dangerous.
Easton Holt unsettled me, rattled me, and then walked away as if his coming over and talking to me meant nothing.
But the worst part was that I already knew it probably hadn’t meant anything at all, because all he’d done was come over for a little small talk.
By the time the morning rush had died down, I’d reminded my brain that men weren’t my jam right now. My picker was broken anyway. The shop was busy, with all the seating areas crammed full, which made my little business owner’s heart content. It also meant that my own muscles were humming from hours of kneading dough, pouring coffee, and smiling until my cheeks hurt. It was a good hurt, though.
I’d left Mia in charge of the counter while I retrieved my display cart and loaded it with the new book that would complete the end display for the crime fiction section. It took me about an hour, but I was satisfied when I finished draping the end table and angling the newrelease with a few other genre-related books. I also added a ‘blind date with a killer’ and ‘blind date with a detective’ option. My shoppers loved those, but I typically only did them in one category every other week.
But none of it was enough to erase the way East had looked at me that night at the Public House.
I’d danced. I’d laughed. I’d ignored the curious glances of the men who’d asked for turns on the floor. And then East had been there, hanging out with Wade and Cole, watching me like I’d been the only person in the room. The kind of look you feel in your bones. And just when I thought something might actually spark between us, he’d shut it down with that too-casual exit, leaving me hot and flustered and—God help me—wanting more.
Now, a week later, I was trying to drown that memory in customer chatter. It wasn’t working.
“Lila.” Mia nudged me with her hip as she slid a mocha across the counter. “You okay? You’ve been zoning out so hard, I thought maybe you’d astral-projected back to girls’ night.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, fussing with the pastry case. The glass was already clean enough to see through, but I wiped it again anyway.
Mia smirked, her neon-pink streaks catching the light. “Uh-huh. Totally fine. Not thinking about a certain Holt brother and the way he looks in Wranglers.”
I spun on her, my voice low. “Mia!”
Her grin grew wider. “Relax. Half the women in town have had the same thought. You just might have caught his eye, too. Sage and I were talking about it.”
My cheeks flamed, which was unfair, because Mia did not need more ammunition. “He hasn’t caught my anything. And for the record, he’s grumpy enough to scare off most rational people.”
“Good thing you’re not rational,” Mia chirped, already moving on to her next drink order.
I pressed my lips together, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer. Even if he had caught my attention or stirred any interest, it wasn’t smart. I had a lot going on right now.
By noon, the shop had settled into its usual midday rhythm. Moms argued with kids over sprinkles, retirees chatted over second cups, and I floated between the coffee counter and the bookstore side. This was my happy place, no doubt about it. Not even some whacko breaking into my house with a death threat was going to wreck this for me.
But when the bell over the door jingled just after two, my stomach dipped and soared like I was on a roller coaster, and those butterflies started up.
