Thirty minutes in, I’ve hit the beach loop and started the incline back toward town. Forty-five, I’m skimming my stats on Strava.
Five-point-four miles. Heart rate’s solid.
Not bad for a Tuesday.
I turn toward the bakery, already craving something warm.
And then—bam.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
I slam into someone at the door.
“Shit, sorry,” I say, catching the figure before she falls. A cup of cocoa—or maybe coffee—slips from her hand and explodes against my sneakers and her boots.
Hot liquid. Sticky. Smells like chocolate.
She stares at me, startled as hell.
“Shit, sorry,” I repeat. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you?—”
“I’m fine.” She straightens up. Wipes at her jacket. Her boots are a mess.
She’s small, barely to my chest. Long blond hair with streaks of pink. And her eyes…
Stormy. Gray-blue, wild like a sea before lightning hits.
Sweetgrass and sugar. That’s what she smells like. Sweet and earthy. Like summer at twilight.
This must be her. The girl they were talking about.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Sadie, right?”
She blinks. “How do you know my name?”
I open my mouth.
She holds up a hand. “Never mind. Small town.”
She steps back, hoisting a massive tote onto her shoulder. I want to offer to buy her another cup, but the way she moves screamsleave me alone.
“I can replace that,” I offer anyway, nodding at the cocoa puddle.
“Don’t bother.”
And just like that, she’s gone. Marches back to her truck, boots squelching, slams the door, and drives off.
Nice one, Boone.
I walk into Cora’s Bakery feeling like a jerk. A bell jingles as I enter.
Cora glances up from the counter. “What happened to you?”
“Had a run-in. Cocoa casualty.”
She glances at my shoes. “Yikes. That’ll stain.”
“I’ll mop it up.”
