“Oh,” I murmur appreciatively, already planning to become a regular. “That is exceptional coffee.”
“Obviously,” Toni says with characteristic bluntness, but her pride is evident.
I take my mug and flaky, chocolate-scented croissant to a small table near the front window where I can watch the town wake up properly. People glance at me as they pass, curious and observant rather than judgmental. Their attention feels welcoming. It’s unexpectedly comfortable, and I can already see myself spending many mornings in this exact spot, developing the kind of routine I’ve always wanted but never quite achieved in my thirty-five years. The prospect of getting to know these women behind the counter, of having regular conversations and inside jokes and the comfortable familiarity of being a known regular, appeals to me more than I expected.
The brass bell above the door jingles again, and a smooth, familiar voice carries easily across the café over the music.
“Good morning, ladies.”
“Earl Grey for Lucien,” Toni says without looking up from cleaning the espresso machine, as if this is a daily ritual they’ve perfected.
“I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” comes the reply, warm with amusement.
I glance up and take a long, appreciative look at Lucien in his early morning elegance. Today he’s wearing a maroon flat cap that does absolutely nothing to hide his subtly pointed ears, a three-piece suit in black and maroon checkered pattern that probably costs more than my rent back in New York, and he’s checking a gold pocket watch with the kind of casual elegance that belongs in a different century entirely.
He’s a perfect combination of stunning, eclectic, and supernatural hotness that shouldn’t work but absolutely does.
He stands near the counter with his usual composed posture, hands relaxed at his sides, movements economical and measured as he tucks the pocket watch back into his vest. His violet eyes find mine almost immediately, as if he’d sensed my attention.
“Well, hello there, Keisha,” he says, his accent adding warmth to my name.
“Good morning, Lucien,” I nod in greeting, trying to play it cool despite the fact that I was absolutely checking out every elegant inch of this man.
He retrieves his tea, already prepared in a to-go cup, but doesn’t sit. Instead, he approaches my table with the kind of graceful confidence that makes me very aware of my own posture.
“You’re settling in well?” he asks, those unusual eyes studying my face as if reading something written there.
“As much as one can settle into a house that has apparently come alive and started doing my bidding,” I reply, laughing nervously and immediately regretting how that sounded.
His mouth curves slightly at one corner, and I find myself drawn to those soft-looking lips. “Ah. So, the manor has acknowledged you properly.”
“That is an alarmingly specific choice of phrasing,” I reply, taking another sip of coffee for courage.
“The manor has. . .tendencies,” he says with a subtle wink that does things to my pulse.
“That is the most unhelpful clarification you could possibly offer,” I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling despite myself.
Toni snorts with laughter behind the counter, clearly enjoying our exchange.
Lucien lifts his tea in a small salute. “Are you planning to explore more of town this morning?”
“Yes. It still feels vaguely offensive that I can step out of my front door and be downtown in under three minutes. Where’s the journey? The anticipation?”
“You’re accustomed to the hustle and struggle of metropolitan life.”.
“I’m accustomed to sirens and subway delays and twenty-minute commutes to buy groceries.”
“Small town convenience grows on you,” he replies with a warm smile that transforms his entire face. “The pace becomes. . .restorative.”
I return my empty mug to the counter, pausing to order a second croissant out of pure weakness. I mean, I’ll definitely be hungry later, and they smell incredible.
After saying quick goodbyes to Lin and Toni, who both hug me like old friends despite having met me fifteen minutes ago, we step outside together and walk side by side down the sunlit street.
“You’ve been here a long time,” I say, glancing up at Lucien.
“Yes.” He sips his tea with leisurely elegance.
“How long exactly?” I press, genuinely curious about the timeline. He’s Fae, so there’s no telling his actual age, even though he appears to be older than me.
