Page 31 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
“Lila!” Raisa spun around, her exclamation coming out louder than intended. A few customers glanced their way, and the gentle murmur of folks flipping through pages or chatting over lattes stilled. Her cheeks burned even hotter as Lila doubled over in laughter, waving off their curious looks.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop,” Lila said between giggles, wiping at her eyes. “For now.”
The chime of the door drew their attention, and Raisa exhaled, grateful for the distraction. Two men strolled in, and Raisa immediately recognized Gavin and Corbin. They were talking animatedly, Gavin gesturing with his hands while Corbin smirked at whatever his cousin was saying. She offered a polite smile and straightened her posture.
“Welcome to Winslow’s Shelf. What can I get for you?” she asked, stepping toward the counter.
Gavin returned her smile, leaning casually against the counter. “I’ll have a cappuccino and whatever today’s special is.”
Corbin, beside him, folded his arms and scanned the shop, his sharp gaze eventually settling on her. “Make that two. The strawberry tart looks delicious.”
“Coming right up,” Raisa replied, turning to Lila, who immediately got to work on steaming milk for the cappuccinos. Raisa plated the tarts herself, their custard centers gleaming under the light, topped with glossy strawberries. As she carried the tray to their table, her earlier distraction melted into curiosity. She couldn’t remember the last time Gavin had come by—or Corbin. This was new.
“Here you go,” she said, setting down the drinks and pastries. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” Gavin said, picking up his coffee. “So, you’re going to the police station with Quint later today, huh?”
Raisa blinked at the unexpected question. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m only trying to help.”
“Are you going to tell them about your suspicion?”
“About the footage? Yeah.”
“You’re absolutely sure about it not being Vanessa?” Gavin asked. Corbin raised an eyebrow at his probing but stayed silent, sipping his cappuccino.
“Yes, I am. Absolutely, totally and utterly,” Raisa replied firmly. “Why?”
Gavin shrugged and popped a piece of the strawberry tart into his mouth. “Just don’t want you to get in trouble with the police. When I spoke to Devaney earlier this week, she mentioned they’re getting frustrated. She said something about you wasting time and resources. It could come back to bite you.”
The words hit Raisa like a sudden gust of cold air. “What do you mean?”
He waved a hand, brushing off the sharpness in her voice. “It’s just… I mean, how can you be so sure? These things are tricky, and sometimes it’s hard to tell with grainy footage. Plus,Vanessa’s been seen running before. She has sneakers, you know.”
Raisa’s jaw tightened, but she kept her tone even. “I’ve never seen her without heels. And it’s more than the shoes; it’s the walk, the whole posture. It wasn’t her.”
Corbin, who had been listening this far, chimed in, leaning forward. “You sound pretty confident. Hope you’re right.”
“I am.” Raisa’s response was steadier now, bolstered by a quiet conviction she honestly didn’t know where it came from. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”
Before she could question Gavin further about his statement, a customer near the shelves called for her assistance. “Excuse me,” she said with a polite nod to Gavin and Corbin before heading away. By the time she returned, the table was empty, the cappuccino cups neatly stacked, and the tart plates cleared.
Lila looked up as Raisa approached the counter. “Those two didn’t stay long.”
“No,” Raisa murmured, frowning. What a strange thing for Gavin to say.
She glanced at the clock. Almost closing time. But Gavin’s words stuck in her head, gnawing at her thoughts as she started wiping down the counter. Wasting police time? Why would he say that?
Quinten leaned against his truck’s passenger door, the crisp January air biting at his skin. The yellowish glow from the streetlight overhead cast soft shadows, bouncing off the frost-rimmed shop windows as Raisa turned the key in the lock. She tugged the door twice to make sure it was secure, then checked itagain. Her movements were quick, almost mechanical, her face set in concentration.
Her shoulders hunched slightly as she turned toward him, her steps deliberate but lacking their usual bounce. When their eyes met briefly, she offered a small smile—lukewarm at best—and before she darted her gaze away, as if pretending to adjust the scarf he’d given her the day before.
He pushed away from the car and closed the distance between them, leaning in for a kiss.
For a few seconds, she seemed almost frozen before responding to him.
Uncomfortable with PDA, huh?
“Hey.” He stepped back to give her more space and opened the truck door for her. “You all set?”
