“I know what I see. And I see someone strong enough to slice through him with her words alone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter me, I’m already exhausted.”
I grinned. “I wasn’t flattering you. I’m just trying not to kiss your smart mouth through this window.”
That got her. She bit her lip, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re irresistible. Kind of a problem.”
She shook her head, but there was a hint of relief in her eyes now, as if my words had chipped away at some of the tension. The distant hum of conversation felt softer, almost fading into the background for a moment. I leaned in a little bit, letting the silence hang between us, comfortable for once.
The line was gone now, the last few customers lingering on the sidewalk and picnic tables with their drinks and a thirst forgossip. I didn’t care. I just wanted to see her smile again—really smile.
“Want me to come by after the lunch rush?” I asked. “Bring you something to eat? Give your sarcasm a break?”
She looked at me for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Yeah. Okay. But only if there’s pie involved.”
“Cherry,” I said. “Obviously.”
She snorted. “Fine. But if you’re bringing pie, better bring two slices, I’m not sharing.”
“Are we soulmates? I don’t believe in sharing dessert,” I joked, earning a small smile.
“Maybe we are,” she murmured, cheeks pink as she slid my takeout cup of coffee across the counter.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” I said. “But if you need anything…”
She looked up, eyes meeting mine. “I know where to find you.”
I smiled. “Don’t forget it.”
Then I stepped back.
She didn’t say anything. Just watched me go with that little half-smile that made my stomach twist in the best way.
From the tables, someone muttered, “God, kiss her already.”
Eliza called back without missing a beat. “Maybe he will. Tune in next week.”
As I walked away, the tension in my chest didn’t ease. Something about Graham—about the way he looked at her like he still had a say in her life—made me want to head to his restaurant and say screw it to being polite.
I didn’t.
Not yet.
But if he kept hovering around her like that, I wasn’t sure how long my patience would last.
I didn’t go straight back inside the Pennywhistle after leaving the Coffee Cabin. Instead, I stood outside the back door for a moment, hand on the knob, breathing in the sharp, pine-tinged morning air like it might settle something in me. It didn’t.
Graham’s smug face was still burned into my retinas. The way he’d brushed past me like I didn’t exist. Like I was nothing but another background prop in whatever performance he thought he was starring in. And that look Eliza had given me—like she wanted to disappear—was enough to make my jaw clench all over again.
I finally pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen, where the sounds of breakfast prep were already in full swing—eggs sizzling, a whisk clinking against a metal bowl, someone humming along to the classic rock playlist Grandma insisted on. I found her at the far end of the counter, rolling out pie dough like she was preparing for battle.
“Morning,” I said, trying to shake off the last of my irritation.
She glanced up. “You look like someone just told you we’re out of bacon.”
“Worse,” I muttered and headed for the coffee machine.
