She looks up, startled. “I’m sorry?”
“Make me whatever you’d drink,” I say. “I trust your taste.”
Her throat moves in a small swallow. “You… want me to choose?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Surprise me.”
A faint flush crawls up her neck, but she nods. “Okay.”
Tessa gives us the total, and I pay, leaving her a generous tip. She turns and heads to the back counter, where she startsmaking our drinks. Every so often, I catch her glancing my way. Her hand trembles once when she reaches for a syrup bottle, but she steadies herself fast.
She definitely remembers me from the other day. That much is clear. What’s a little muddier is what she’s feeling. It doesn’t feel like excitement or giddiness. It seems like something heavier.
Finn sighs. “I can’t wait to eat my scones. They smell heavenly. You can tell they bake them fresh here. We should come here more often. You know the other place isn’t baking their pastries in-house.” He pauses. “Don’t worry. I’ll share some with you guys.”
Miles chuckles. “Given that Logan paid for them, yeah, I’m thinking you will.”
She returns with our drinks and sets each one down carefully. Mine last.
“This is a honey cinnamon oat latte,” she says, voice soft. “It’s my favorite.”
I smile. “Then it’s going to be good.”
She gives a tiny nod and steps back.
“Thank you,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine for half a heartbeat. Something flickers there—recognition, fear, maybe curiosity.
“You’re welcome,” she answers as she hands Finn two paper bags full of baked goods.
Miles grabs his drink and a handful of napkins. Finn hugs the bags of scones and muffins to his chest with one arm and tips his coffee toward Tessa. “Thanks again.”
Coffee cup in hand, I linger a second longer. “See you around, Tessa,” I say quietly.
She startles again. It’s so subtle that most people wouldn’t notice. But I do. She grips the edge of the counter.
“Have a good day,” she murmurs.
I follow the guys outside, but every step feels heavier.
“Okay,” Finn says, climbing into the SUV. “Well, that was a bust.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“That barista was totally into you.”
Miles reaches from the back seat and places his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Why do you sound so bummed? Wasn’t the point of coming here not to get hit on by a barista?”
“Well, yeah, the other one. This one was smoking hot. That’s a different story.” Finn sets his coffee into the cup holder and opens the bag of scones.
“Doesn’t matter. She has a boyfriend,” I say.
“How do you know?” Finn asks.
“I met her at the fan signing. She had me sign a jersey for him… Preston.” His name sounds foul coming from my mouth. “So whatever that was, it wasn’t her liking me.”
Miles catches my stare in the rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
