He sets it in front of me, and I burst out laughing because the foam is an indistinct blob.
“I love it,” I tell him. “You were right.”
It’s perfect, and I take a sip, and it’s delicious, just the way I like it. Sweet, but not too sweet, a hint of pistachio giving the entire latte a nutty flavor that pairs perfectly well with the espresso and milk.
“It’s really good. Thank you, Caleb. Seriously. This has been… wonderful.”
“And it’s just day one of me convincing you to spend your life with me.”
I shake my head, laughing, and sip the latte. How the hell else do I respond to that?
Yeah, I didn’t think so.
“I like the look on your face when you drink it. Reminds me of when you made — last night,” he says simply, headed back over to the stove to finish making himself a latte.
“The kind you like?” I ask as he pours fresh milk into the frother.
“I’m easy,” he says.
“No kidding,” I say.
He snorts a laugh as I giggle to myself, pleased that my joke landed.
“Traditional latte,” he says. “Little bit of hazelnut and a little bit of vanilla. Classic.”
“You didn’t try the pistachio?”
“I’d rather taste it on your lips,” he says with a grin.
“That pays for it.”
We both laugh — well, I giggle, and Caleb chuckles, and it’s… wonderful.
“Tell me more about Watchmere,” I finally say after another bite and another sip. I break off a small piece of the bread, dabbing a little bit of jam on it.
“I’ll add Watchmere into the historic lighthouse tour,” he says matter-of-factly. “That way we can get some state money to help fix it up, automate the light, and bring some more tourism to Silverlight Shore in the off-season. Lighthouse tour runs October through November, and we can partner with all kinds of shops and cafés downtown.”
He drops it like it’s not a bombshell, and I stare at him, open-mouthed, before I realize the piece of toast is about to fall straight back onto my plate. I quickly snap my jaw shut and just keep staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I take it that you like the idea,” he says, smearing some jam on his own toast. He looks altogether too pleased with himself, but I can’t blame him for it.
I swallow. “We’ve been trying to get Watchmere Light on the historic lighthouse tour for years, but your uncle would never agree to it happening, I know it’s because he lived — didn’t want people walking all over where he lives, but now he?—”
“I know,” Caleb says agreeably, but a little hurt crosses his face before I have time to reel the words back in.
“That was callous of me,” I offer apologetically, closing my eyes and shaking my head. “I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. It’s just?—”
“It’s nothing against the old man. I don’t blame him for it, but now we can make a change, and it will be good for Silverlight Shore.”
“It will begreatfor Silverlight Shore,” I enthuse, wrapping my hand around his. “We can run festivals on the weekends in time with the lighthouse tours to bring business to the inns. I can run some sort of special lighthouse candy-shaped confection during it. We can have food trucks come on the weekends — oh my gosh, the bed-and-breakfast can do something really fun too.”
I’m tapping off ideas on my fingers as I go.
“So I take it you like the idea?” Caleb says slowly, both hands cupping his latte. He sets it down slowly, eyebrows raised over the top, eyes gazing into mine.
“I love it.”
“So you love me,” he says casually.
