Page 30 of Your Place or Mine

“If they do, we’re moving in.”

The ceiling tiles were stained from old leaks, the kind that left splotchy watermarks like coffee rings. One of the fridges buzzed with the anxious hum of an appliance that had seen too much, too often. The laminate floors were dull and discolored, and a few chairs had cushions that looked like they'd survived at least one chili spill and a toddler with a marker.

It wasn’t terrible. It just… needed help.

“Hi!” A voice practicallysangacross the room. A woman behind the counter popped up from where she’d been crouched under the espresso machine. “You’re Lydia, right?”

I blinked. “Yes?”

“I’m Riley.” She came around the counter, all bright eyes and an apron that readI like you a latte. “I own this place. Oh my gosh, it’s so exciting that you’re the new landlord. The Ludlowes said you’d be stopping in!”

I was still trying to keep up with her volume and general sparkle. “It’s great to meet you, Riley. This place is adorable.”

She waved that off. “You’re sweet, but I know it needs work. The Ludlowes were kind, but let’s just say attention to detail was not their legacy. I’ve been saving up to do some updates, but the plumbing’s old, and I’m still paying off the espresso machine that broke twice last year. One more surprise repair and I might be selling lattes out of my car.”

I glanced around again. The layout was solid, open, and welcoming, but it could be much more. The potential tugged at me like a dog on a leash.

“I’m not here to change anything that’s working,” I said gently. “But if you ever want some help making small updates or repairs, I’d be happy to look at what I can do. I’m a sucker for good bones and it would be nice to use the degree I earned.”

Riley’s whole face lit up. “Yes! Thank you. Honestly, even some help brainstorming or figuring out what’s possible would be amazing.”

I nodded, already imagining how a few simple touches, some paint, fresh lights, and fixing the floorboards could transform the space without breaking the bank. I could already picture the Pinterest board in my brain.

“I’ll email you,” she said, bouncing back toward the counter. “What are you two having?”

“Whatever your go-to is,” I said. “Surprise me.”

“Same,” Melanie added. “Bonus points if it comes with extra caffeine and low-key euphoria.”

“You got it.”

As Riley got to work behind the counter, I turned to say something to Melanie and promptly collided with a wall of muscle and flannel.

“Oh, sorry…”

“Figures,” came the low rumble of a voice I knew too well.

I took a half-step back and looked up.

Of course.

Callum Benedict.

Standing in the doorway like a storm cloud in jeans. His flannel sleeves were rolled to the elbows, his jaw was unshaven, and he looked like he hadn’t slept since sometime last week. In other words, ruggedly broody, as advertised.

“Of all the coffee shops in all the world…” I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re already planning the remodel?”

“I was just getting coffee,” I said sweetly. “But now I think maybe Ishouldput in a window seat.”

“Good. Then you can watch as the town's soul gets sanded down and refinished second by second.”

Melanie leaned against the counter, grinning. “You two have the weirdest flirt-fight dynamic I’ve ever seen. And I once dated a guy who proposed during a hot sauce eating contest.”

Callum didn’t flinch. “This isn’t flirting.”

“Debatable,” she said, sipping her drink.

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