Shit.
The timestamp on the message read eight forty-five. I lived right down the street from the coffee shop, planning to walk and not worry about parking, but with the ice and snow on the sidewalks, I was cutting it close.
“Alright, little man. I’ve gotta get going. Wish me luck.” I gave him an affectionate pat on the back before bustling out of the bathroom and heading downstairs.
Throwing on my coat, I wrapped my favorite knit scarf around my neck. I’d had it since Reece and Tegan were young; it was a gorgeous sage-colored yarn knit in a herringbone pattern.
The cold air stung my nose the second I stepped onto my front porch. I almost regretted walking, but the warmth of the morning sun on my cheeks made me change my mind.
Briar Glenn was such a beautiful town. While it had seen its fair share of growth over the past few years, all the changes had improved it. With the monster integration, the town had undergone a sort of cultural renaissance. There were new businesses, new faces, and a renewed sense of community.
“Morning, Mrs. Rollins,” a familiar voice whistled as I neared my future son-in-law's gym.
I glanced up to find Fallon, Atlas’ best friend and Cyrus’ former roommate, giving me a friendly flutter of his wing.
“Morning, Fallon! I’d love to chat, but I’m late for my date.” I gave him a polite smile and kept walking.
He whistled again as I passed him. “A date?! He’s a lucky guy. Have a great time!”
That Fallon sure was a sweetheart, but from what I’d heard from Tegan, he was quite the player when it came to dating.
The sign for the coffee shop came into view and I felt my stomach flip with anxiety.
“It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine,” I mumbled, walking through the front door.
The rich scent of coffee filled my nose the moment I walked inside. I heard a warm laugh I vaguely recognized, one that brought a smile to my face.
There he was.
Alistair’s back was turned to me as he chatted with Brian, the owner and head barista at The Busy Bean.
Holy shit, he was beefy.
And tall, almost as tall as Atlas.
His craggy horns curved toward the ceiling and a worn jacket stretched across his wide back. It was the same one he wore in the mountainside picture, making me feel less awkward about my sweater. Just below the hem of his jacket, his tail stuck out from a hole in his perfectly-fitted jeans and swayed back and forth lazily.
His ears perked up when he heard the overhead bell of the door and he turned to face me.
Sweet heavenly goddess.
He smiled down at me, a soft, lopsided grin full of perfectly white, flat teeth. Long lashes—the type you’d kill for—fanned out over his wide brown eyes. They were deep and expressive, gleaming with excitement and kindness.
He was even more handsome in person.
“Hi there,” he said in that gruff voice of his. “You must be Pam.”
“Y-yes. H-hi.” I needed to get it together. I could barely speak.
He laughed and extended his hefty hand out to me. “I’m Alistair, but you can call me Al.”
Al.
He watched me intently as my tongue darted out to wet my lips.
“I take it you’re my long-lost pal, then,” I said, shaking his hand.
Pam Rollins.
