He glanced over to find her glaring at him.
And here he was, thinking her grumpiness might actually equate to a peaceful drive.
“Well,” he said. “With an intro like that?—”
“I wouldkillfor a matcha latte right now.”
It was then Dell realized Mae hadn’t been glaring at him at all, but at the travel coffee mug he’d been sipping from. Dell huffed out a breath.
“You have to get used to living without things like matcha lattes here. Unless you make them yourself.”
“One, I knew you would say that.”
“Then why did you?—”
“And two, I don’twantto make them myself.” Mae’s voice stretched into an actualwhine that Dell would pay good money to never have to hear again. “They never taste as good.”
“There’s a Starbucks in Lincoln City you can always drive to, if you want one so bad.”
“That’s the thing, though.” Mae sat straighter in the passenger seat, sounding abruptly more awake. “Why do matcha lattes have to be a city thing? How come people in Greyfin Bay can’t enjoy some matcha? Why do I have to drive to Lincoln City for a treat?”
Dell rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“You know you moved here on purpose, right? You knew there wouldn’t be matcha in Greyfin Bay. It feels like you’re baiting me into a fight here.”
“I know.” Mae groaned, closing her eyes. “I’m just…so fucking tired.”
And Dell knew she was. He was goddamn impressed with how much she had accomplished at the shop already. Today was the first day since he’d offered to build the bookshelves six days ago that she’d actually had enough time to venture to the lumberyard with him. She’d been busy supervising Gemma’s murals and Andy’s work on the water damage upstairs and Bay Heating and Cooling, whom she’d hired to update the HVAC systems.
It was irritating, how impressed he was.
Her voice retreated to a pout again. “I want a treat.”
“What you’re telling me,” Dell said slowly, “is that I’m going to have to stop at the Starbucks when we drive through Lincoln City.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Mae opened her eyes. “If they make it weak and I have to ask them to put more matcha in it, will you push me out of the truck?”
“Possibly.”
And when Mae’s head rolled toward him with a lazy smile, well, that was a touch too close to flirtation for Dell. The mixed messages between the two of them were starting to give him a headache. Jesus. He couldn’t believe he was taking her to the lumberyard. And listening to her city whines as he did it.
He placed his right hand at the top of the wheel and focused on the road.
She smelled like something bright and sharp. Like lemon but not quite. Grapefruit, maybe.
“It makes it more special, sometimes,” he found himself saying, some minutes later. And when he felt her eyes on him again: “Having to go out of your way for something.” He shrugged. “It…makes it kind of a fun thing, when I drive to Lincoln City for a matcha latte.”
The truck was quiet for a minute before Mae inevitably asked, “You like matcha lattes?”
“I’m allowed to like matcha lattes.”
And Dell could hear the smile in Mae’s voice when she said, “That you are.”
* * *
“This is better than the lighting aisle,” Mae breathed an hour later. “It smells so fucking good.”
Dell made a small hum of agreement as he scanned the stacks. And like he kept doing, each time Mae said something nonsensical, even though he knew he should just let it go, he asked, “The lighting aisle?”
