I steal another glance, just as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile at something she says.
And that’s my cue to stop staring. Quickly. Before I get caught like an absolute idiot.
It’s not often a new face strolls into the café, and I probably should’ve introduced myself properly yesterday. I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and make my way over.
“Welcome! I’m so glad you could make it,” I say, shifting Maisie a little higher on my hip. My voice stays bright, even though my stomach flutters nervously. “I’m Lucy. And who is this little cookie expert?”
The girl tilts her head up at me, her dark gray eyessparkling with confidence. They’re so much like his, I can’t help but assume they’re related—she’s probably his daughter. A halo of wild chestnut curls frames her face.
“I’m Isla,” she announces. “And I’m here to make thebestcookies ever. I’m really good at it.”
I laugh at her enthusiasm, the way her excitement all but vibrates in the air. The man watches with a half-smile, amusement tugging at his mouth while his eyes soften in a way that’s hard to miss.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Isla! And I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?” I say, glancing up at him.
His eyes catch mine, and for a second, the air shifts. The steadiness in his gaze unsettles me, like he’s seeing layers I don’t usually let anyone near.
“Aidan,” he says, voice rough and low as it sends a sudden shiver down my spine. “Aidan Reid.”
I repeat his name without thinking, testing the sound of it. “Aidan.” It suits him. Strong. Uncomplicated.
Shaking it off, I gesture toward the setup. “Well, I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve got a cookie decorating station over there,” I point toward the long table, “and later, we’ll have story time in the reading nook.”
At the mention of cookies, Isla’s whole face lights up. “Can we go now?” she asks, already tugging at Aidan’s hand, her impatience barely contained.
A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he glances down at his daughter. “Aye, little storm. Lead the way.”
They take a few steps toward the table, but Isla suddenly stops and spins back to me, her eyes squinting with suspicion.
“Are you a grown-up?” she asks, tilting her head. “You’re pretty, and you don’t look old. Not like him.” She jabs a thumb at her dad with zero hesitation. “And that’s a cute baby. Is she yours? What’s her name?”
Aidan groans. “Isla.”
I laugh. “That’s a lot of questions. Let’s see if I can answer them.” I crouch down to her level, Maisie still snug on my hip. “I am a grown-up. Just a newer one, I guess. And this is my niece. Her name is Maisie.”
At the sound of her name, Maisie coos softly and Isla giggles. “How old is she?”
“She’ll be one in just a couple months.”
“How old are you?” she asks, because of course she does.
“Twenty-five,” I say, then glance up at her dad with a grin. “Ancient, I know.”
Isla looks between us, clearly trying to puzzle out what that means. “Daddy’s thirty-five,” she announces.
“Is that old?” I ask her.
She narrows her eyes at him dramatically. “He groans when he gets off the couch.”
I burst out laughing. “Well, that settles it.”
Aidan just shakes his head as he lets Isla drag him toward the cookie table. The gentleness in his gaze now is a startling contrast to the unreadable man I met yesterday.
I can’t explain why he keeps snagging my attention or why my pulse flutters every time his eyes catch mine. I’m usually very cautious when it comes to new faces. Friendly, of course, but mindful, nonetheless. I don’t fling my trust at the nearest charming smile. I wait. I watch. I let people show their true colors in their own time.
Aidan… He throws that right out the window. I’ve already flipped ahead to the parts that make my heart race, and there’s no use pretending I haven’t.
I can’t say I’ve felt a pull like this before. The men I’ve dated in the past have always been safe choices. Familiar. Friends who’d been around for years, so there was never any guesswork. Just stable, comfortable companionship.
