Page 55 of Hometown Heart

"Good." He took a sip, leaving a whipped cream mustache above his lip. "Because I think he likes you too, Dad."

I rested my hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the door. I glanced back through the window as we stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Silas stood at the espresso machine, his movements sure and practiced, and his eyes followed us until we disappeared from view.

Chapter fifteen

Silas

The suddenly irregular sound of the espresso machine's hiss mirrored my unsettled mind. I tried to coax it back to its usual rhythm, but it was determined to disrupt my morning.

"More foam on that cappuccino," Vi called from her table, not bothering to look up from her crossword puzzle. "You're skimping this morning."

"Since when do you critique my foam technique?" I asked, eyebrow raised as I delivered her drink.

She peered at me over her half-moon glasses. "Since you started grinding those poor beans into dust. Something on your mind, Silas?"

I turned away without answering. Tidal Grounds hummed with Monday morning energy—ceramic mugs clinked against saucers, newspapers rustled, and conversations seemed to quiet every time I passed by.

Dottie and Ruthie huddled near the pastry case, their conversation slowing when I approached. Then, Dottie, never one for subtlety, nudged Ruthie with her elbow and spoke a touch too loudly.

"Did you see them together at the game yesterday? Silas rarely attended junior games until Jack and his boy, Cody, came to town."

Ruthie's attempt at discretion was feeble at best. "Well, it's hardly surprising, given how Jack looked at him."

"Ladies," I interrupted, brandishing the coffee pot like a shield. "Need a refill?"

"Oh, Silas!" Dottie looked up. "Yes, please, dear. Your dark roast is divine today—robust, like certain new friendships in town."

The bell above the door chimed as more customers filed in. I retreated behind the counter, grateful for the distraction, only to knock over a canister of coffee beans. They scattered across the floor like marbles.

Sarah appeared with a broom. "You okay, boss? That's the second spill this morning."

"Fine." The word was curt and sharp. I followed up in a softer tone. "Sorry. I'm distracted."

"Hmm." She swept efficiently, gathering the beans while shooting me a look I pretended not to see. "Does it have anything to do with a certain hockey dad?"

"Don't you start."

She grinned. "Too late. The whole morning crew's been buzzing about you two."

I sighed. "There is nous two. We're friends."

"Right." Skepticism dripped from each letter of the word. "Friends who look at each other like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're memorizing each other's faces." She handed me the dustpan of ruined beans. "For what it's worth, I think it's nice. You've been alone too long."

Before I could formulate a response, the milk I'd been steaming screamed in protest, bubbling over the rim of the metalpitcher. I yanked it away from the steam wand, cursing under my breath.

"I'll remake this," I muttered to Sarah. "Can you handle the register?"

She nodded. "Take a breath. It's only coffee."

Tidal Grounds was never only coffee. It was my sanctuary, and it was suddenly too exposed to whispers and knowing glances. For years, I'd been practically invisible despite standing in plain sight—Silas Brewster, reliable purveyor of caffeine and occasional recipient of town gossip, never its subject.

Until now.

The milk foamed perfectly on my second attempt. I poured it carefully into the waiting espresso.

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