“Sure thing.” The woman—Nessie, probably, given the café’s name—set the cloth aside. Up close, Maggie noticed the soft lines around her eyes, the capable, callused hands that spoke of hard work. “Where are you headed?”
“Valor Ridge Ranch.”
Something flickered across Nessie’s face. Suspicion or interest, Maggie couldn’t tell. The woman’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened just slightly.
“Oh? Visiting someone out there?”
Maggie shifted her weight. “Meeting...” What did she call a pen pal she knew better than anyone, but that she’d never actually met in person? “Uh, an old friend.”
The other woman brightened, all hints of suspicion gone. “Oh my God, are you Maggie? Anson’s pen pal?”
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Had Anson been going around town telling everyone about her? That didn’t seem like him. But then again, she only knew him through his letters.
Maybe coming here had been a mistake.
Nessie must have noticed her discomfort because she added quickly, “Oh! Sorry. That was probably weird. I live at the ranch with my boyfriend, Jax. Anson has talked about you. As much as he talks about anything.”
Jax. Nessie.
The names triggered a memory. Anson had written about them over the summer. Jax was a former Navy SEAL and had a dog named Echo. Nessie made the best muffins in the state and had a seven-year-old son named Oliver, who had recently started calling Jax “dad.”
It was surreal, having all these second-hand memories suddenly connect to real people. She even had a picture of Oliver and Echo that Anson had enclosed with one of the letters.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” Nessie gestured toward the pastry case, where rows of muffins and scones sat on tiered plates. “Cinnamon roll? They’re still warm.”
“Just water, thanks.” Maggie’s stomach growled in protest, but she ignored it. She’d eat once she got to the ranch. Once she knew she was safe. “And directions to the ranch.”
“Sure thing.” Nessie filled a glass with ice water and slid it across the counter. “I’m so excited that you’re finally here. Anson’s been... well, not exactly pacing, but you know. For Anson, checking his watch twice in one hour is practically a nervous breakdown.”
A frown tugged at Maggie’s lips. That didn’t sound like the Anson she knew from his letters. When he wrote to her in a steady, unhurried hand, filling both sides for pages sometimes before he was done. It was hard to reconcile that with a man who barely spoke.
“You must be new in town.” The voice came from behind her, cheerful and curious.
Maggie startled, nearly spilling her water as she turned. A woman had just come through the front door, a sleek black Lab at her heels. She was lean and athletic, with strawberry-blonde hair escaping from a messy ponytail and fierce pale-green eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.
“I’m Greta Dougherty,” the woman said, extending a hand. “This is Atlas.” The Lab wagged his tail, nosing curiously at Maggie’s boot.
Maggie hesitated, then shook Greta’s hand briefly. “Just passing through.”
“She’s here to see Anson,” Nessie offered from behind the counter, already reaching for her phone. “This is Maggie. His pen pal.”
Greta’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you’re Maggie? The one who writes those letters he never lets anyone see?” A grin spread across her face. “Damn. He’s been nervous all week. Good. Man needs someone to shake him up.”
“Greta,” Nessie said with fond exasperation. “Boundaries.”
“What? It’s true.” Greta shrugged unapologetically, then turned back to Maggie. “Don’t let him fool you with all that stoic silence. He’s been waiting for you to show up for days.”
From the corner table, Maggie felt rather than saw the two older women watching her. One leaned toward the other, whispering something in a stage whisper that carried just enough for Maggie to catch fragments.
“...looks like that girl from...”
Her pulse quickened. She tugged her cap lower.
Nessie was already reaching for her phone, her smile wide and excited. “Let me call Jax. He’ll want to know you’re here.”
“Oh, no. I’d rather you didn’t.” This wasn’t how she’d planned it. She’d wanted to arrive quietly, anonymously. Instead, she felt like she’d stepped into a spotlight. “If I could just have the directions, I’ll get out of your way.”
Nessie set her phone down and grabbed a napkin from the holder on the counter. “Let me draw you a map. It’s pretty straightforward, but there’s one turn that’s easy to miss.”
