“Sure.”
The little coffee shop is a ten-minute drive away. It’s close, and I’m surprised I’ve never noticed it before. I park on the side of the street in front of the shop, and we head in. A bell chimes when I swing open the front door.
I almost trip over my own feet when I step inside and see her.
Shock rolls through me. The amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this woman is worrisome, yet I couldn’t stop. I was in her presence for the briefest of minutes, yet I see her so vividly in my mind. Now that she’s here, before me, I’m shocked at how detailed and accurate my memory is. Everything from the hue of her hair to the shade of her light skin to the heart shape of her face is exactly as I’ve envisioned.
It’s actually her.
Tessa.
My pulse trips. She stands at the register, hair pulled back loosely with wisps escaping near her cheeks. She’s wearing an apron over a soft green T-shirt. She holds a mug in one hand, smiling gently as she hands it to a customer.
Her smile isn’t big. It’s quiet. Careful. But real.
I haven’t seen it before. Not directed at me, at least.
Finn steps ahead of me. “This place smells insane. I’m glad they have pastries. I’m starving and ordering everything.”
He has no idea my world just tilted.
Miles nudges me. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, but my voice comes out lower than normal. Finding my footing, I follow him to the counter.
When the customer leaves, she looks up.
Her eyes meet mine.
She freezes. Only for a second. But it’s enough. Her posture stiffens.
I lift my hand in a small wave. “Hey.”
She blinks. “Hi.”
It’s barely a whisper.
Finn leans in, resting his elbow on the counter, oblivious. “Hi, yes, hello. How are you doing today?”
Tessa’s gaze flicks to him. She doesn’t answer. Her eyes dart to mine before dropping straight down to the register. “What can I get for you?”
Miles steps forward. “I’ll take a large cold brew.”
Finn orders next, launching into his very specific preference list. She types everything quietly, hands steady, but her shoulders are a little too high. “We’ll take three of every scone you have,” he adds at the end of his drink order.
“Um, we don’t have three of every flavor left, and we’re out of blueberry,” she says softly.
Finn waves his hand in front of him. “No worries, just ring up all the scones you have left and throw in a few muffins too. We’re not picky.”
She nods.
Then it’s my turn, and oddly enough, I feel nervous.
“What can I get you?” She swallows hard. Her eyes focus somewhere near my chin before they drop back down to the register.
Okay, so she’s definitely nervous around me. What I can’t figure out is if it’s a good or bad nervous. A little flirting will answer that question for me.
I lean a little closer, giving her room to step back if she needs to. “Dealer’s choice.”
