Page 31 of Your Place or Mine

Riley popped her head up from behind the espresso machine, beaming. “Callum! Your usual?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, but his eyes never left me. “Unless Lydia here wants to add lavender foam and glitter.”

“Just wait until you see the art installation I’m planning for the sidewalk.”

“I’ll bring the jackhammer.” His eyes narrowed on mine, and I felt an odd flutter.

“Perfect,” I said, smiling to show my teeth.

Why? I didn’t know.

Riley handed him a black coffee, then set two to-go cups in front of me and Melanie.

“On the house,” she said. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Callum looked between us, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t decide whether to warn Riley or install surveillance cameras.

“Well,” I said, turning toward the door, “this has been charming.”

“Like a root canal,” Callum muttered behind me.

But I didn’t respond. Because despite the backhanded comments and the brooding, something about this morning felt like a small win.

One more tenant on board.

One more space I could make better, without stripping its soul.

And one very grumpy man who was starting to feel just a little bit predictable.

Dangerous.

But predictable.

Chapter Nine

Callum

I knew I should’ve waited ten more minutes in my truck when I saw her in the coffee shop. Maybe fifteen. Long enough for her to leave with her friend and all their shiny, hopeful, city plans.

But no. I walked in, ran straight into her, literally, and ended up in a room that suddenly felt too small and far too bright.

She didn’t even look surprised. Like she’d expected me to appear, ready to scowl and growl and play my assigned role.

I gave her what she was waiting for and added a little extra for good measure. Not proud of it, but hell, I wasn’t about to start pretending we were best friends just because she could drink her coffee without flinching and stare me down equally as hard.

When she and her glitter-bombed friend left, the place felt like it exhaled. Or maybe that was just me.

What bothered me most about Lydia was that she wasn’t what I expected. I’d concocted an image of what she looked and acted like, and so far, none of my guesses were on target.

I stepped up to the counter and took Riley's coffee without saying much. She didn’t comment right away either; she just gave me that squinty-eyed look of hers, as if she was mentally deciding whether I needed caffeine or a swift kick.

It was probably both.

She returned to organizing the pastry case, but I could feel it coming. Riley didn’t hold her tongue for long, especially not when I stomped in like a bear who hadn’t eaten all winter.

And sure enough, she straightened up, hands on her hips, and said, “You planning to scare away every woman with a business idea or just this one?”

I took a sip of my coffee and gave her a look. “I’m not in the mood.”

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