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Arden waved a hand. “It’s fine.” She had made it sound like she’d received a call about a sickly relative. In reality, she’d received an inappropriately familiar one from her boss–slash–unrequited love.

Not love. Crush. But no longer. She was here to make a clean break from Peter. Peter was in the past.

“But like I said,” she continued, “I’m sorry for brushing you off. I didn’t mean to.”

Sam tilted his head. “Really? So you enjoyed our conversation?”

“Well—” Arden recalled the awkward first impression, the number of times he’d mentioned his mom, and the way their stilted conversation had made her realize that she was no good at human interactions.

“Because what I was going to say…,” Sam sank down in his seat, conscious of a ten-year-old who’d just turned around to glare at him, “was that I would love another chance, because I know I blew the first one.”

“Another chance?” Arden had been half watching the movie during this conversation, but now she swiveled her head to assess Sam’s expression. He wore a hopeful smile, his brows raised. He did not appear to be joking. Did he not remember her coughing attack after tasting the tiniest bit of cayenne? Or the way she’d accidentally insulted his job?

“With me?” Arden continued. “Why?”

“Because,” Sam spoke slowly while looking into her eyes, as though he’d just realized she might be willfully obtuse, “it’s not every day a guy meets a beautiful, intelligent, funny, adventurous woman, and I would be a fool not to get to know you better while I have the chance.”

Arden stared. His face betrayed no hint of sarcasm. She was distracted by the symmetry of his features. His blue eyes were wide and earnest, his nose and cheekbones were more chiseled than they had any right to be, and his lips were just the right amount of full, topped by a Cupid’s bow that reminded her of the ribbon on top of a gift. Her mind snagged as she realized she was now gazing at his mouth. She thought back to his words, unsure which part of his sentence to respond to first.

“Adventurous?”

“You came to a city you’ve never visited, alone, just for fun. You came with me to my family’s party even though you barely know me, let alone anyone in my family.”

Arden softened. She couldn’t help but return his smile. She’d been called plenty of things—her students’ parents said she was a great teacher; her mom said she had a good heart; Peter was always quick to tell her how helpful she was—but she’d never been called adventurous. Especially in the same sentence with those other adjectives.

“Did I mention that I’m sorry for earlier?” she whispered. “I’m really glad you brought me here tonight.”

Sam reached for her hand, looked at it, then looked up at her face. Arden felt a zing of something intoxicating at the brush of his fingers.

“Arden, would you care to get out of here? I have an idea.”

Chapter 11

Phoebe

For the second morning in a row, Phoebe found herself at Colsie Coffee. This time, instead of the blue-eyed water technician, she sat across from a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with some kind of flower tattooed across his forearm who wore the same clothes he’d had on last night.

Phoebe had slept like a rock. Usually, when she spent the night with a date, she didn’t sleep very well. But with Jonathan in bed beside her—okay, with Jonathan on the other side of the pillow beside her—she’d slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

“How did you sleep?” she asked him now, over her steaming mug of coffee—this time, she’d opted for the Candy Cane Mocha.

“Great.” Jonathan stretched his neck until it cracked. “This Arden person has a super-comfy bed. Plus, it’s so quiet here. Can you believe?”

Phoebe took another sip of her minty mocha. Maybe the extreme quiet was actually the reason she’d slept so well. After all, she was used to cars whooshing and honking below her window.

“Yeah, I can see why someone would live here. It’s so peaceful. Plus, this coffee shop.”

Jonathan agreed: “It’s pretty cute.”

He’d gotten the Santa’s Sugar Cookie latte at Phoebe’s urging. So many of the guys she’d dated in Seattle had been coffee snobs who would only ever order a doppio espresso on the rocks or a cold brew without simple syrup. Bonus if they could grind the beans themselves. Double bonus if the beans had been pooped out by a jungle cat. They took it so seriously that it took the joy out of a delicious beverage.

“How’s your drink?” Phoebe asked.

“Yummy. Straight out of the North Pole.”

Phoebe broke off a bite of her cheddar scone and slid it toward Jonathan on a napkin. He was having a bagel. They’d hemmed and hawed over the assortment of incredible-looking sweet pastries and muffins, deciding their drinks were too sweet to pair with any of them.

“What is your family doing for Christmas?”