Page 95 of Defensive Desire

Chapter & Grind is busy when I arrive, the afternoon rush in full swing.

Through the window, I can see Emma behind the counter, moving with the kind of graceful efficiency that comes from doing something you love for years.

Her auburn hair is piled on top of her head in that messy knot she favors when she's been working all day. There's a smudge of what looks like chocolate on her cheek, and she's gesturing animatedly as she explains something to a customer.

She's wearing the green sweater. Icehawk green. My favorite. It's the one that brings out the gold flecks in her eyes and hugs her sexy body in a way that makes it hard to think straight.

She's beautiful.

And I might be leaving her.

The thought hits me like a blindside check, leaving me winded and unsteady.

I stand outside for a long moment, just watching her in her element.

The corners of her mouth turn upward as she extends her arm, passing a mug to a customer. Her fingers dance across the espresso machine again, twisting the knob to release a hiss of steam into the milk pitcher, then sliding to the lever where she pulls shots.

When the waiting customer mumbles something barely audible over the whir of the grinder, her shoulders shake slightly and a soft, melodic chuckle escapes her lips, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

This is her world. Her dream.

Built from nothing but determination and a love for coffee and books that I'll never fully understand but have come to admire more than I can say.

And for the first time in my life, I'm deeply, painfully aware that someone else's dream matters to me as much as my own.

Hockey isn't everything.

It's just what I did until I found this… my real purpose in life.

I push through the door, the bell chiming overhead. Emma looks up, and the smile that breaks across her face when she sees me is like sunshine after a month of gray skies.

"Logan!" She waves, gesturing me toward the counter. "Perfect timing. I need a brave soul to taste-test my new experimental hot chocolate for the kids."

I make my way to her, weaving through the crowded café.

"Brave, huh? Should I be worried?"

"Only if you hate the combination of chocolate, milk, and a secret ingredient that might change your life."

She slides a mug across the counter to me, eyes twinkling with mischief. I take a sip, and the rich, complex flavor explodes on my tongue.

"Jesus, Emma. This is incredible."

"Yeah?" Her face lights up with that particular brand of joy she gets when she's created something new. "I'm thinking of making this one for the kids tomorrow."

"It's perfect," I say, taking another sip. "This stuff could become addictive."

"That's the plan," she winks. "Get all those hockey fans hooked so they keep coming back for more."

I watch her move behind the counter, prepping another drink for a waiting customer.

What would happen to her if I left? Would she come with me? Would I even ask her to?

The questions circle in my head like vultures, feeding on the quiet dread that's been building since the first whispers of "trade" reached my ears.

"You okay?" Emma asks, suddenly right in front of me, brow furrowed with concern. "You seem... far away."

I force a smile. "Just tired from practice. Coach was brutal today."

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