“Is that so?” Georgia says, putting the last of Mrs. Hendricks’ purchases in a bag.
I’m taken with the idea. A Christmas wedding would be perfect for a story. My mind whirs with possibilities. It’s almost disappointing when Mrs. Hendricks is on her way and it’s my turn.
“Hey there, Kit,” Georgia says, starting to scan my canned goods.
“Hello, Georgia.”
She laughs, bright and loud. “You remembered my name. Well done.”
I smile back. It’s hard not to when faced with such an enthusiastic greeting.
A short while later I follow the same steps I’d taken on my first trip to town, and a few times since, dropping the bags to the Jeep and heading to the coffee shop. An espresso for the trip home seems a brilliant idea.
The aroma of fresh coffee greets me at CC’s. It’s busy with the lunch crowd, laughter and conversation buzzing. There’s an empty table, but I head straight to the counter to place my order. I won’t be staying.
The man standing there isn’t the guy who served me last week. My heart misses a few beats as I take in the most gorgeous guy I’ve seen in recent memory. He has short wavy blond hair and warm brown eyes with the most disarming smile. Logan at the bookstore was cute, but this guy has my pulse fluttering and face heating. And when his dimple flashes, I go weak at the knees.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
It’s then I realize he’s asking me a question and has probably asked more than once. “Yeah, sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”God, I’m an idiot, standing here drooling over a guy who’swaytoo young for me.
“I was asking what I can get you, but from the looks of things, I’d say you’re in desperate need of caffeine,” he jokes.
I nod, finally regaining my senses. “And you’d be right. Espresso. Double shot. To go.”
“Name for the order?”
“Kit.”
“You got it, Kit,” he says with another grin. He passes a cardboard cup to the guy working the espresso machine, then turns back to me. “Busy day?”
I shrug. “Just taking care of a few chores.”
“Are you passing through town?” he asks with a friendly smile.
“Actually, I’m staying for a while.”
His smile widens. “In that case, I’m Felix.”
“Hi.” I reach across the counter and hold out my hand, surprising myself by making the move.
Felix’s hand is warm in mine, smaller and smooth. I don’t want to let go. We lock eyes. His are brown, lighter around the pupil, framed with dark lashes. His smile is as warm as sunshine, lighting up his face. I tamp down the unwanted tug of attraction. I don’t need complications.
The other man brings over my coffee, finally breaking the weird trance I’m in. I snap out of the hold Felix has on me and grab the cup. I barely remember to pay before putting my head down and hightailing it out of there.
On the drive back to the cabin, I make a resolution. No engaging in friendly banter with the charming barista, no getting distracted by those mesmerizing eyes and sunny smile. I am here to write, nothing else. I haven’t been attracted to any man or a woman in recent times, so it should be easy.
Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t get the message, and Felix lingers in my thoughts as I put away my groceries and get back to work.
An hour later, I’m still daydreaming about Felix and I know I’m not in the right headspace to focus on my manuscript. I closePeril on the Mountainwith a hard tap of the keyboard.
The romance novel concept is playing in the corners of my mind.
I open a blank notebook.
A small-town romance with the Christmas wedding. It has all the makings of a Hallmark movie—sweet, sentimental, and guaranteed to tug at readers’ heartstrings. My mood lifts at the idea of crafting the perfect romance—a story full of hope, and love, and happy endings. It’s just what I need and I smile at the first spark of inspiration in days.
A romance between a bookstore owner and… what was he? Something about leather. Or maybe the other main character can work at the coffee shop next door, I muse. There’s a strange flutter in my belly as I picture Felix with Logan. I scratch that idea without putting too much thought into why. Instead, I focus on my protagonists’ motivation and conflicts. I jot ideas as I brainstorm, losing myself in the fictional world I’m creating. Soon I have pages of notes for a story where a broken-hearted man finds love in the most unexpected place.
