Tilly slurped whipped cream. Lois stared longingly at Eliza.
I took a sip, stupidly pleased that she made my order without asking what I wanted. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did,” she said. “You’re very memorable.”
“…Memorable?”
She froze. “I meant yourorderis memorable. Not—you. I’m going to walk into the woods and let the raccoons claim me.”
I laughed. “Too late. Damage done. Now I’m wondering which part of me is so memorable.”
“Absolutely not,” she said, pointing at me with her stir stick. “We are not exploring that sentence. Subject changed. Immediately. So. Um. You like the new place?” she asked, attempting to drive the conversation back to casual, but her eyes flicked up to mine like the answer mattered and gave her away.
“I do,” I said. “Still figuring out where everything goes.”
“Organization is important. I’ve been here a little over a year and still can’t find my potato peeler.”
I smiled. “Maybe it’s in the same dimension as all the missing socks.”
We stood there a second too long. Not awkward—just acutely aware of each other and the near date we’d never gone on. Of the way our Christmas time flirtation had felt like a beginning we didn’t know how to follow up on. The silence stretched between us. Warm. Charged. Dangerously good.
A car pulled into the drive-thru, breaking the spell. Eliza straightened, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she needed to hide how flustered she suddenly looked.
“Duty calls,” she said softly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “Go enjoy the snow before it melts.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Her smile was small but real. “Good. I mean… I’ll be here anyway.”
I tipped my head. “You could admit you like seeing us.”
Her eyes narrowed—just enough to hide the shimmer of amusement. “You are awfully sure of yourself for someone who told me he tripped over a moving box yesterday.”
I leaned in a little, “I maintain the box launched a coordinated attack.”
She snorted, shaking her head, but the corners of her mouth softened in a way that made something warm unfurl in my chest.
She shook her head, biting back another smile. “Goodbye, Nate.”
“Bye, Eliza.”
“Bye, Eliza!” Tilly yelled.
Eliza’s expression softened for Tilly—so visibly it almost knocked the breath out of me. “See you, sweetheart.”
As we walked away—Tilly skipping, Lois trotting—I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back.
She was leaning on the counter, watching us.
When our eyes met, she flushed and turned to help her customer at the drive-thru.
Something warm and certain settled in my heart.
I had moved here for Tilly. For stability. For a life that felt like home.
I hadn’t expected the woman at the coffee window to make Honeybrook Hollow feel like all of that—and something more.
Chapter 2
