“You like the pie here?” Now he’s got a full-on smile on his face.
“I’ve had better, Wesley.” I raise my eyebrows because I just know it’s his pie. Wes bursts out laughing.
“Alright, I’ll keep working on the recipe.”
“I suspected it was one of yours.” I fight to keep a smile off my face. His stupid grin is contagious, and the laugh is like a warm blanket on a snowy day.
“I bring a few once a week, plus anytime I have extra that I can’t force-feed my brother.”
“Well. That’s… nice.”
Wes shrugs. “It helps a small business. I know the owner pretty well.”
“I bet you’re like the mayor of this town, huh.” I can justabout picture him stopping in each shop on Main Street and checking how business is going. Weird. I wouldn’t have expected someone in his line of work to be so integrated in the community.
“Actually, a few people have asked me to run for mayor. Noah talked me out of it last time, so instead we elected a moose named Fred.”
“There’s a lot to unpack there.” I sip my mocha. Still delicious. “You’re close to your brother?”
“Yup. His cabin is less than a mile from mine, and we spend a lot of time together on some, well, joint projects, I guess.”
“That must be nice.” And he probably doesn’t keep really important secrets from you likemybrother, I think but don’t say.
“It is.”
I’m tempted to ask about the rest of his family, but I stop myself because Wes is not my friend. I need to keep that in mind.
“What are you doing here, Wesley?”
“What amIdoing here?” He snorts. I ignore it.
“I might be in your little town, but there’s no way you just happened to stop by this coffee shop?—”
“Killer Beans.”
“—Killer Beans ten minutes after I got here.” I try to look haughty, but it’s difficult when I’m obviously trying to track him down.
“Maris, what’s your second choice for college next year? Is it still Boston University?” Wes calls to the barista.
“Yes, but I haven’t heard from them yet.” She gives him a bright smile.
“I’m sure you’ll hear soon.” Then he looks back at me and lowers his voice. “This is my town, Calliope. I know everyone.Those girls in the corner are eighth graders. Their moms all own a bakery down the road. The couple who just walked in?” He nods his head toward the two older women approaching the register. “They’ve lived here their whole lives. They used to own the general store but sold it a few years ago. They have a gorgeous lakeside cabin a mile up the road. In the summer they drive their golf cart in and out of town.”
“I get it. What’s your point?”
“That woman walking by with her dog?”
My eyes slide to a woman around sixty walking a tiny dog in front of the coffee shop.
“She runs the B&B with her husband and daughter. Her son is a professional hockey player in Colorado.”
“Fine. You know some people. So what?”
“This is my town. I belong here. Why is it so hard to admit that you came looking for me?”
I groan. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
