Sutton clocked it before I even realized I’d been caught. She nudged a tray of cinnamon twists my way and smirked, eyebrows doing a gymnastics routine. “If you stare any harder at that door, you’re gonna burn a hole through it.”
I gave her a look. “Just keeping an eye on the flow.”
“Yeah, sure.” She set down the tray, folding her arms and planting one hip against the counter. “You've been talking about your new faucet with stars in your eyes like it was the Hope Diamond.”
“I was just—” I started, but then the espresso machine screamed for my attention. I swatted at it, sloshing crema onto my hand. “Dammit.”
She just laughed, then flicked her gaze back to the front. “If he comes in, you’re going to have to use your words, you know. Or at least stop drooling.”
“Don’t you have, like, a million things to do?” I muttered, tamping the coffee with probably too much force.
“I’m ahead of schedule,” she said, and her voice went soft for half a second. “Besides. You deserve to be happy and I like seeing you like this. That’s all I’m saying.”
I shot her a grateful smile, then glanced around at the bakery. The place was packed, every table full, and the only sound louder than Sutton’s voice was the machine-gun chatter from the table of retired teachers near the window.
I’d just turned to start another order when the door swung open with a little too much force and a woman with a ponytail so tight it looked like it could lift her off the ground came in, carrying a yoga mat and the raw, bracing scent of peppermint essential oil.
“Eryn!” Sutton called, like it was a game show and the correct answer had just been announced.
Eryn made a beeline for the counter, peeling off her sunglasses and shoving them on top of her head. She had the kind of perfect skin that made me want to invest in whatever serum she used, and her leggings had enough contouring panels to qualify as sculpture—not that she needed them.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said to Sutton, then flashed me a grin. “Hi, Lily! Can I get a matcha latte and a power muffin? I need carbs—big day.”
I plucked a muffin from the rack and handed it to her. “Isn’t every day a big day for you?”
She snorted. “You’d think. But today we’re trying out our new hot yoga studio.”
Sutton grimaced, and I let myself smile. Eryn was pure sunshine, the kind of person who could talk anyone into anything if she tried hard enough. She wore her kindness like an aura, but I knew she could turn it into a weapon if necessary.
She took her latte and did a slow pan of the room, then leaned in. “So. Has he been in yet?”
Sutton almost choked on her own spit. “You’re as bad as me. No, not yet. But I give it ten minutes.”
I kept my eyes on the milk frother, hoping they’d drop it, but Eryn was relentless. “You know, Gray says he’s probably working on the ranch all morning, you know, getting it cleaned up? But you know what I think?” She took a dramatic sip, eyes never leaving mine. “I think he’s gonna come in here, order a black coffee, and look at you like you hung the damn moon.”
I went beet red. “You’re both delusional.”
Eryn shrugged, swirling her matcha. “Delusional is the best way to live. You should try it.”
The bell over the door chimed again, and every head in the place swiveled, just like Sutton had predicted. I didn’t want to look, but I did anyway, because apparently I was incapable of self-preservation.
And there he was.
Ford Brooks filled the doorway like it was built to his measurements. He wore a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, his tattoos peeking out in swirls of black and gray. His hair was messy, like he’d run a hand through it a thousand timeson the way over. He wore the same square-framed glasses. They made him look both dangerous and vulnerable, which was a deeply unfair combination.
The whole bakery seemed to inhale at once.
Ford gave a nod to the room, then headed straight for the counter, his stride easy and unhurried. Every cell in my body threatened to dissolve.
Sutton turned away, grabbing a new tray, but not before whispering, “Showtime.”
Eryn’s eyes lit up like she’d won the lottery, and she scooted to the side, making space for Ford at the counter. “Hey, Brooks,” she called, her voice softening in that way it did when she liked someone.
He smiled, and it was devastating. “Morning, Eryn. Sutton. Lily.” He said my name last, and it felt like it stuck in the air for a second.
I tried to remember how to talk. “Hey. Usual?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He put a ten on the counter, not even waiting for the total.
