“Could we talk?” Nick gestures to the corner booth. “I have a … proposal.”
“A proposal?” Mrs. Henderson gasps loud enough for everyone to hear.
“A business proposal,” Nick clarifies.
I lean against the counter. “Sure.Pumpkin spicelatte?”
“Make it two,” he says with a wink.
We’re both uncomfortable right now.
Blaire steps up next to me as I start the espresso. “That man is looking at you like you’re his favorite dessert.”
“It’s just attraction,” I remind myself as much as her.
“Are you imagining climbing him like a tree?”
“Blaire!”
“What? I guess it’s just me.”
She’s not wrong, which is the problem. I finish making our lattes.
“Want to meet me in my office?”
He grins. “Good idea.”
I lead him through the back, past the ovens and the storage area, to the small office that used to be my grandmother’s. It’s cozy—just a long table that acts as a desk, a computer for inventory, two chairs, and walls covered in photos of the coffee shop through the decades.
Nick follows me in, and suddenly, the space feels even smaller. He sets his messenger bag on the floor as I close the door, muffling the sounds from the dining room.
“This is better,” he says.
I hand him his coffee and pull one of the chairs away from the desk, angling it toward the other. He does the same, and when we sit, our knees touch. Neither of us pulls away.
“So,” I say, wrapping my hands around my cup for warmth, “a business proposal?”
“Right.” He pulls out his laptop, balancing it on his thighs. “Don’t laugh.”
“No promises.”
He turns the screen toward me, and I nearly spit out my coffee.
The first slide readsStrategic Relationship Development: A Comprehensive Approach.
“You made a PowerPoint about us?”
“I know how it looks?—”
“Oh my gosh. You’re a nerd!” I giggle. “You made a business presentation about us kissing.”
He laughs. “Okay, maybe I am, but this is how my brain works!” He clicks to the next slide. It’s a graph. “Look, we went from zero to sixty in approximately three seconds. That’s not sustainable.”
I study the graph, which hasIntimacy Levelon one axis andTimeon the other. There’s a sharp spike labeledCoffee Shop Incident.
“You graphed it out?”
His knee presses more firmly against mine. “I process better with visuals.” He’s fully blushing now, and I find it so damn adorable. “The point is, we need practice. Small interactions. Building comfort gradually.”
