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And he’d wanted to. So very much.

But then he’d gotten scared. Not of the kiss. No. But that he’d misread the signals. That his wanting was making him see things that weren’t there.

And if he’d kissed her and it wasn’t what she wanted, he might have ruined his chances with her. And that would have been unbearable.

His bear sighed. I think she wanted us to.

Gabe picked up the cloth beside the sink and wiped his hands. I think she might have too.

But he’d done the right thing. Hadn’t he? Mara had ended a long relationship less than a week ago, and wanting her didn’t give him any right to hurry her. She had told him about Scott with her eyes on her cup of cider, and he had seen what it cost her. He could wait for a kiss. What he couldn’t do was give her a reason to wish she had never said yes to the walk.

The bell above the bakery door rang, and he went through to the front. Nate had already come inside and was shrugging out of his jacket.

“Morning,” Gabe said.

“Morning.” Nate paused inside the door and looked at him.

Gabe reached for a mug. “What?”

“You look happy.” Nate narrowed his eyes slightly. “Not normal happy. Different.”

Here we go again, his bear chuckled.

“Is that a complaint?” Gabe asked as he poured the coffee.

“No. I’m trying to figure out what happened to you.” Nate came the rest of the way to the counter.

Nate had known him thirty years and had never once missed anything worth noticing, so there was no point pretending nothing had changed. Gabe slid the mug across the counter. “Coffee first.”

“That serious?” Nate asked.

“Yes.”

He has no idea, his bear said.

I think he might, Gabe replied.

Nate took the coffee to their usual table without asking anything else, though he was clearly itching to.

Before Gabe could tell him, the bell rang again. Wes came in, bringing the cold with him and the smell of orchard grass off his jacket, followed by Evan, who was checking something on his phone as he walked. Isaac arrived a few minutes later and went straight to the plate of cinnamon rolls at the end of the counter. “Those for us?”

“They’re for customers,” Gabe told him.

Isaac took one. “Good thing I’m a customer.”

“When was the last time you paid for anything?” Gabe asked.

Isaac thought about it as he tore the roll in half. “When was the last time you asked?”

“Fair point.” Gabe watched him carry his breakfast to the table.

Joel came in last with the festival folder under one arm and a loose sheet of paper in his hand. He looked as though his morning had already been too long.

Now that man needs a coffee and a pastry, his bear said, impatient to tell their friends about their mate.

Gabe poured him a coffee. “More festival business?”

“My mother remembered the scarecrow judging.” Joel dropped the folder onto the table and reached for a pastry. “She called me at five twenty.”