She gives me a look that probably intimidates corporate boardrooms, but I just smile, unfazed. Finally, she picks up the mug and takes a cautious sip.
I watch her expression carefully, enjoying the moment her features soften with surprise. "This is actually good."
"Try not to sound so shocked," I laugh. "It's my grandmother's recipe. Apples, cinnamon, cloves, and a secret ingredient she'd haunt me for revealing."
Jules takes another sip, longer this time. "Let me guess. Star anise?"
I blink in surprise. "Most people guess nutmeg."
"Star anise has a distinct licorice note." She shrugs at my incredulous look. "I have a good palate."
"Hidden depths, Ms. Sinclair." I raise my mug in a small toast. "I'm impressed."
"Jules," she says suddenly. "If I'm drinking your family cider while you're babysitting my daughter, you might as well use my first name."
"Jules," I repeat, liking the way it feels. More approachable than the formal Ms. Sinclair. "And did Mia mention she's officially the favorite junior guest at Mountain Laurel Lodge? She dominated the scavenger hunt today."
A genuine smile breaks through Jules' reserve. "She mentioned it approximately fifty-seven times during dinner."
"Only fifty-seven? She must be slipping."
That earns me a small laugh, the sound surprisingly melodic. I find myself wanting to hear it again.
"She also mentioned you taught her how to identify edible berries," Jules continues, her tone more serious. "I hope that came with very clear warnings about not eating anything without adult supervision."
"Of course. Safety first, always." I hold up three fingers. "Scout's honor."
"Were you actually a Scout?"
"Two badges away from Eagle Scout, until I discovered girls and cooking were more interesting than knot-tying."
She laughs again, this time more freely, and I count it as a small victory. The breeze picks up, and she pulls her sweater tighter around her shoulders.
"Cold?" I ask.
"A little. I'm not used to mountain evenings."
"New York City doesn't prepare you for actual fresh air, huh?"
She gives me a curious look. "How did you know I'm from New York?"
"Mia mentioned it. She talks about your apartment and the park across the street."
"Central Park," Jules confirms. "My office is nearby, so the location is convenient."
"Convenient," I repeat, tasting the word. "Not beautiful or inspiring or peaceful. Convenient."
She straightens defensively. "There's nothing wrong with valuing efficiency."
"No, there isn't," I agree easily. "But there's also nothing wrong with occasionally valuing things that have no practical purpose whatsoever."
"Such as?"
I gesture toward the darkening mountains. "Such as sitting on a terrace watching the stars come out while drinking cider with a stranger."
Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her mug, and for a heartbeat, something electric passes between us. She's the first to look away.
"I should check on Mia." She starts gathering her things, but doesn't immediately stand.
