FORTY-THREE
lauren
After I get dressed, Tate takes me downstairs to the coffee shop, where there’s a sign on the door that says “Sunny and Sheriff, Private Party Only.”
Each of the tables is lit by a single candle, their flames casting a honeyed glow, the blinds drawn to give us privacy as Tate leads me to the same table where we had our first PR meeting. The aroma of vanilla and fresh bread hangs in the air, and I’m immediately reminded of the cinnamon rolls we shared.
“Why isn’t anyone here?” I ask.
“Because Scarlett closed down the coffee shop for us,” he says, then pauses. “I wanted a second chance at a first date with you.”
I stare at the table. There’s a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers in the middle and a simple white box wrapped with a red bow.
I shake my head. “But I don’t understand. Why would you go to all this trouble? You could’ve just asked me to meet you here during my workday.”
“After making you stay in a rodent-infested cabin and sleep on a bed that could double as a torture device?” He gives me a shy smile. “I think you deserve better, Sunny. And I wanted a shot at proving it to you.”
He stands, then pulls out a chair for me and motions for me to sit.
“Just for the record, I fell in love with that cabin,” I say, taking a seat. “It may have been old, but I didn’t actually mind that sofa bed when you were reading to me in it.” I don’t tell him the rest—how I fell in love with those quiet mornings, waking up to his sleepy smile and the sound of him saying the name that’s only mine:Sunny.
Suddenly the door from the kitchen opens and Lucian steps out, dressed as a waiter carrying two drinks, alongside Rourke, who follows with cinnamon rolls.
I look between them. “Shouldn’t you both be at practice?”
“We’re helping out a friend,” Lucian says, his eyes connecting with Tate’s as he hands me my favorite coffee.
Rourke sets down a plate with two cinnamon rolls, frosting melting and pooling around the edges. “I was told Ihadto participate.”
I bite back a laugh. “I hope you’re getting paid for this.”
“He is. In baked goods,” Tate says. “Bribery is the currency of true friendship. Plus, I promised to put in a good word with Janie.”
Rourke gives him a look, then vanishes with Lucian into the kitchen again.
It isn’t until Annie tries to steal a swipe of frosting from my plate that I realize she’s hopped onto my lap.
“She’s clearly got a thing for you,” Tate says, amused.
I run my hand along her back, her tail thumping against my leg. “I’m going to miss her when you take her back to the shelter.”
Tate takes a bite of his cinnamon roll, eyes steady on mine. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m not taking her back.”
I blink. “Wait, you’re keeping her?”
“Nope,” he says. “You are.”
“Tate, I can’t?—”
I lift Annie off my lap and try to set herdown, but she immediately hops right back up again, curling into me like it’s already settled.
“She disagrees,” Tate laughs.
“I probably wouldn’t even get approved to adopt her,” I say.
He holds up a hand. “Already handled. I talked to James. The paperwork’s done. You’re approved. All that’s left is your signature—ifyou want her.”
I stare down at her and realize I could never let her go. “I do want her. But why would you go to all this trouble for me?”