Just me.
A table.
And the sound of the espresso machine sighing into the afternoon.
For the first time in hours, my thoughts slowed, but they didn’t settle.
Because every time I closed my eyes, even for a blink, I saw Sienna.
Her flushed face after the kiss.
Her breath catching when I held her.
Her hands were resting on my chest like it was the most natural place in the world.
The brief moment right before her lips met mine, where something flickered in her eyes…fear, want, defiance, all braided into one impossible thing.
And after…
God.
After.
The way her entire body had leaned into me like she didn’t know which part of herself to trust. The stunned laugh that had slipped out when the whole supper club erupted into applause. The way she had looked at me in the gear shed was equal parts overwhelmed and drawn to me.
She was trouble…beautiful, untamable trouble.
And I was a fool for wanting more of that kiss.
More of her.
More of something I had no right to want from someone whose entire life was built on roots and community and a family that affectionately heckled each other.
That wasn’t my world.
And yet…
“You look like a man who’s either falling in love or solving a murder,” Abby said, sliding another mug under the espresso machine.
I straightened. “Neither.”
She smirked. “Then you’re bad at hiding it.”
I rubbed my jaw. “I’m not… whatever you think I am. I’m just here to work.”
“And drink Americanos,” she added, tapping the machine. “Don’t forget the croissants.”
“Those, too.”
She reached across the counter and swiped my empty plate. “So. How’s the new job?”
“Fine.”
“Uh-huh. And how’s working with the Harpers?”
“Fine.”
“And how’s Sienna?”
