The grumpy man freezes, his eyes widening as I sweep past him and enter the café.
Immediately, I feel at home.
Warmth and spice welcome me like a hug.
Sage-green walls adorned with twinkling Christmas lights and worn wooden counters make this place seem like a cozy countryside escape.
But then, I see its quirks—brass jars lining multiple shelves, vintage teacups and pots, sunken seating areas with mismatched furniture, multi-color cushions that look like a unicorn crossed with a seventies hippie threw up and this decor is the result. Bookshelves stretch floor to ceiling, filled with novels and knickknacks.
Then there are the flowers, the glorious flowers. Lush purple wisteria drips from the ceiling, orange roses climb lattices, and ivy curls along the walls. I don’t even know how they keep them alive in the middle of winter.
I breathe in the nutty scent of coffee and spice mixing with the sweetness of the bouquets.
A memory stirs.
“So you’re an Anderson—you can have anything. What do you want that you don’t already have? Have you decided on a dream?” Kian asks.
We’re in his backyard, my feet resting against the beat-up tire we used as a chair. Sofia chats with a friend, laughing in the background. His mom, a petite woman, watches me with narrowed eyes and a tight smile.
“Well,” I say, “I don’t really care about the money. I guess I want what my parents had. Love. People say it killed her, but from her journal entries, she was happy. I’d risk it all for a love like that too.”
He’s contemplative. “What about something tangible?”
Inhaling the sweet air, I climb onto a makeshift swing, kick out my legs, and feel the breeze flutter my hair.
“Other than that music box, which I’m not getting until my birthday because I want the anticipation…I suppose I want a place of my own. Something I can decorate.”
His heat brushes against my back as he pushes me. Higher and higher. I soar through the air like the ravens flying overhead.
“I want a gorgeous library with walls of books. One of those beautiful antique desks with cherubs on the legs. A music room. And…” I stop, excitement bubbling, and leap off the swing.
Kian’s already there, like he’s predicted my next move.
He catches me easily.
“What?” He grazes my cheek with his finger. I shiver.
“An indoor garden,” I say. “Like a greenhouse filled with roses, more books, a comfortable chair, the best hot chocolate, and big windows I can watch the stars from.”
“That’s…very specific.” A smirk tugs at his lips.
“What can I say? I have standards.”
“And yet you chose me.”
“And yet I chose you,” I whisper.
The hiss of the espresso machine drags me back to the present.
A redhead reminding me of a certain fairytale mermaid frowns behind the counter.
She mutters something to the machine. Then she scowls.
“Just whack it,” I call out, grinning. “Hit it like you hate it.”
Amusement glints in her green eyes. “You break it, you buy it.”
“But you’re the one hitting it.”
