Page 75 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“Honestly, yeah.” It was the earnest, direct way that Monroe said the words that made Blake’s stomach flutter again.

If something as simple as talking about Blake’s truck did that, she needed to accept that she was in a whole world of trouble.

Trouble was a good word for it. The thought became clearer as Blake watched Monroe in Slider’s, looking at the cases of freshly baked pastries like it was the most important task she’d ever completed.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her face was makeup-free. She had a flannel draped over a tank top, which was still possible in the early-ish morning weather.

Blake was trying her best not to stare.

The sun hadn’t poked through the clouds on their drive to the café, which was less busy than usual. People who lived in town would make the trek to the out-of-the-way roadside location, just off the highway, but no one in their right mind was grabbing a coffee and heading out onto the hiking trails five minutes up the road.

The sky was ominous, with heavy, lurking clouds starting to roll in over the hills. It was clear that the sky was going to open up at some point, but it was anyone’s guess as to exactly when.

It was in everyone’s best interest not to be in a low valley or too close to the river when that happened, given how quickly a flash flood could erupt across the hard limestone and dolomite filled ground.

Still, that meant they’d gotten a parking spot at all, instead of having to circle the lot, like she did most days. So, that was a plus.

She really had to ask the owner, Lainey, what the hell she put in the coffee.

The building that housed Slider’s had originally been an outpost to stock up on provisions before heading farther west, when the town had first been settled. It retained its old-timey charm, with wooden, well, everything. The tables. The counter. The walls.

Stepping inside felt a little bit like stepping back in time, though she couldn’t imagine that the coffee had been as good back then.

And even if it was a little kitschy, it delivered in the ways that mattered.

Blake shook her head as though she could Etch-a-Sketch her thoughts away. Focusing on the impending storm and the café was for self-preservation more than anything. It was becoming abundantly clear that Saturday night hadn’t been a fluke for her. She felt the same jangle of nerves at being close to Monroe again.

Whatever she ordered, her coffee definitely needed to be decaf.

Especially when Monroe leaned down to check out one of the pastries on the bottom shelf, and her ass rounded into a perfect heart shape in her dark jeans.

Blake’s mouth went dry.

Yeah, definitely not a fluke.

“What are you having, Blake?” Lainey asked from behind the counter.

Blake blinked, averting her gaze. Had Lainey caught her looking? “I’ll take a black decaf, please.” She could always raid the coffee box that Monroe had already ordered for the shop if she started dragging.

Lainey lifted a surprised eyebrow but didn’t comment on either the coffee or the staring, which Blake appreciated. She’d barely started to make sense of her own feelings, and having to defend them to another person wasn’t on her to-do list today.

Not that she thought Lainey would have a bad reaction. She was one of the few people who, since her divorce, hadn’t treated Blake any differently. Given the fact that Lainey saw just about everyone who lived in town at least once a week, it was safe to say that she’d probably heard the news as it had been breaking.

Blake was still lost in thought when Monroe turned around and handed her the decaf coffee. “I didn’t expect someone who burns the candlestick at both ends like you do to go for decaf.”

She accepted the cup, both wishing their hands would touch and trying to make sure that it didn’t happen. Blake didn’t know if she could keep the sheer wanting off of her face if that happened.

Monroe picked up a large bag that was on the counter.

Blake eyed it. “Did you buy out the entire cafe?”

“Maybe I went a little overboard, but I won’t have Denny besmirching my good name around town,” Monroe teased, her eyes light.

Dangerous. This was so, so dangerous.

Blake was only a few months out of a divorce, trying to rebuild her life.

That personal reminder wasn’t having its desired effect on her ability to resist flirting back. She sipped her coffee and quirked an eyebrow. “Is that right?”