“Did she give that to you?”
My gaze flicks to the bracelet as I spin it around my wrist, the single tiny charm on it catching the light. “Yeah, it’s a forever bracelet—no clasp, so you can’t take it off. She gave it to me on my last birthday.” I hold up the first charm. “A cupcake because I love to bake. She was going to get me one for each birthday except she died from a surgical complication.” I pause.
“I’m so sorry, Neesha,” he says, his gaze drops back to the bracelet, like he’s studying it.
The coffee maker beeps that it’s finished and I’m grateful for the interruption. I don’t want to talk about my mom’s unexpected passing with a stranger. At the same time, I get the feeling he’s the type of man who would listen.
He opens the cabinet and hands me a mug. “Cream? Sugar? Any kind of special syrup? I just got pumpkin spice.”
“You have fancy syrup?”
“Oh, I have all the syrups,” he says, opening another cupboard and showing off an impressive display of flavors.
“What…are you secretly a barista?”
“Not when there’s already an amazing barista in town.” He shoots me a look. “So what will it be tonight? I noticed the other day that you prefer caramel.” He slides the bottle toward me, but keeps space between us.
He noticed what I liked?
“So, why do you come to the cafe if you can make coffee like this at home?” I ask.
“Because I don’t like making coffee just for myself,” he explains. “But making it for someone else? That’s different.”
I stir in the syrup, then take a sip. “Okay, this is legitimately amazing. I take back every doubt I had about your coffee skills. What other hidden talents are you hiding? Secret baking abilities?”
“My food skills are pretty much limited to waffles and takeout,” he says with a laugh. “Maybe you could give me some lessons sometime?”
I lean against the counter, feeling more relaxed now that I’ve seen inside his home. He doesn’t look like someone I need to keep my distance from. His home is clean, with everything in its place. “My mom taught me the basics before she passed. It became second nature—therapeutic, almost. I’m not sure I could teach it because I don’t even think about what I’m doing anymore.”
“I get that,” he says, stirring cream into his coffee. “People ask me how I know how to fix things. I can’t really explain it—I just like figuring out the way to put broken things back together again.”
His eyes catch mine before he looks away. I sip my coffee andstudy the art on his walls. It’s original paintings of outdoor scenes. A mix of oils and watercolors.
“Are you going to the Ice Breakers Inaugural Bash?” he asks casually.
I set my cup down. “No. Too busy, also…I don’t really do parties involving hockey players.”
There’s a question in his gaze, but he doesn’t push. “I hear most of the town will be there.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly why I want to avoid it. Plus, I’ve got about ten dozen cupcakes to bake this week. In fact, I was heading home to bake now.”
“Seems like that’s all you do.”
“Maybe frosting is my idea of fun,” I quip, heading toward the door. “I’m a simple woman with simple pleasures.”
He follows me, hands in his pockets. “Well, if you ever want another cup of coffee, you know where to find me.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to offer some information in return—any hint that I’m interested in more of whatever this is.
I turn toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Part of me feels a little bad. He knows basically no one in this town and he’s probably lonely. Lonely men usually spell trouble, but for some reason, Lucian doesn’t give off those vibes. He’s different. Patient in a way I’m not used to.
He grabs the door before I can. “Good luck with the cupcakes.” He looks like he wants to ask me something else, but doesn’t.
And I don’t give him any hope that this will become something regular, because that would mean getting to know the stranger next door.
And I already know how that story ends: When strangers become friends, that’s when things get complicated.
CHAPTER 6
