“He’s a little like a fish out of water, isn’t he?” Will says, picking up a cloth and wiping the counter. “I wonder what his story is?”
“He seems sad and lonely.”
Kit forks up a piece of carrot cake and raises it to his mouth. A little cream cheese frosting sticks to his lip and his tongue flashes pink as he swipes it away.
“Here.” Will nudges me and passes me a napkin from the dispenser.
“What’s that for?” I ask.
“To wipe the drool from your chin.”
I chuckle, but he’s right. I think watching Kit eat cake is my new favorite thing.
Kit’s gaze flicks toward Will and me, and I blush at being caught staring. I snatch the cloth from Will’s hand and start polishing the counter as if my life depended on it. Will’s laugh echoes as he disappears back into the kitchen.
Chapter Seven
Kit
The porch swing creaks as I gently rock back and forth, taking in the view. There are trees as far as the eye can see, and in the distance, the mountains rise majestically against the sky. I close my eyes and breathe in the crisp, pine-scented air. Footsteps on the gravel driveway cause me to open my eyes.
Shawn approaches with a friendly wave. “Mornin’, Kit. Just wanted to let ya know the electrician will be by later to fix the issues in the kitchen.”
I nod. “Thanks for arranging that.”
Shawn glances at the trees. “Quite the view, huh? My Maureen, God rest her soul, loved sitting out here. Said it was the most peaceful place on earth.” A wistful look crosses his face, and I feel a pang in my chest for his loss.
“It’s a special place you’ve got here.”
“That it is.” His smile is back. “Been in the family for generations.”
“It must be difficult managing on your own.”
Shawn shrugs. “It was easier when Brian and Susan were here—”
“Brian and Susan?”
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “I forget not everyone knows everyone around here. Susan’s my sister and Brian’s her husband. They’re Felix’s parents. Moved to Florida, oh, two years ago or there abouts.”
At the mention of Felix, my pulse quickens. The way he insisted I take the piece of cake, our fingers touching, his eyes on me while I sat in the coffee shop. The hint of desire I could see in his expression.
“Well, I better get to it,” Shawn says, snapping me from my thoughts. “Gotta deliver some firewood to your woodpile round the back before the rain comes.” I thank him as he turns to leave, my mind already wandering back to thoughts of Felix.
I head inside but have no desire to sit down at the desk. I’m tempted to visit CC’s, and although it’s lunchtime, I don’t even try to tell myself it’s for any reason other than catching a glimpse of Felix. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m in the Jeep and on the way to town.
The bell chimes overhead as I step inside the now-familiar coffee shop. Behind the counter, Will greets me with a friendly nod. The disappointment it’s not Felix behind the counter is replaced by a strange sense of belonging when Will remembers my order. He picks up a takeout cup, but I stop him. “I’ll have it here today.”
He smirks as he swaps the cardboard cup for a ceramic mug. “Did you want something to eat?”
My gaze flicks around the coffee shop, hoping to catch sight of Felix, but he’s nowhere to be seen. However, I live in hope and decide to stay.
I turn back to Will. “I’ll take a chicken salad sandwich.”
Will nods. “Grab a seat. I’ll bring it over.”
I make my way to a small table near the front windows and pull my notepad from my pocket. I carry it with me everywhere, scrawling notes and ideas. I tried making notes on my phone but old-fashioned pen and paper suits me best.
Through the window, I watch the happenings in town. An elderly man tipping his hat at a woman walking past; a young man pushing a stroller; a teenager engrossed in something on her phone. Will brings my food and I stop people-watching as I bite into my sandwich. It feels strange to be out and about instead of doing chores and rushing straight home. The sandwich is better than anything I could throw together and I enjoy the change in routine. I sip the coffee, needing the bitter jolt of caffeine—I’ve been burning the candle at both ends trying to get this damn book written. I tune out the murmur of conversation and review the list in my notebook, contemplating my latest idea for a red-herring.
