Page 4 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
“Thanks. Keep the change.” Quinten pushed a tenner over the counter and took the coffee. “I’ll let you know about the coffee.”
His pure-male voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she maintained her composure, watching as he turned and strolled to a nearby table. She let out a slow breath, her grip tightening on the counter as she tried to steady herself.
This is fine.You’re fine. He’s nothing more than a customer. That’s all.What a shameless lie!
Sipping his coffee—and it was darned good—Quinten let his gaze wander around the shop. The place had the kind of charm that made you want to linger, warm wooden shelves stocked with colorful book spines, a few cozy tables tucked into corners, and a gleaming counter. The shop smelled of coffee, baked goods, and something sweet. The faint hum of the coffee machine mixed with the pleasant jazz playing discreetly overhead.
He chuckled quietly to himself, remembering the dark, dusty shop as it had been in his youth. Back then, it had only been a bookstore, and not once had he set foot in it. Books were for nerds, he used to think, back when his priorities revolved around football practice and Friday night parties. Funny how time changed things.
His focus drifted from the past to the alluring barista. She moved back to the bookcases like the paperbacks and hard covers reeled her in. Her elegant fingers with unpainted nails held the books with reverence as she placed them on shelves in the ‘romantasy’ section. Whatever the hell that might be!
Her casual outfit—jeans, a simple sweater, and sneakers—did little to disguise her curves. Even her choice of footwear didn’t rob her of height. Tall enough that he wouldn’t have to bend like a pretzel to claim her lips when he kissed her.
He shook his head sharply, trying to erase the carnal thoughts from his head. Where the hell had that come from? He was here to fix the mess his father had left at Carrington Construction, not to get tangled up in some woman. No matter how stunning she was.
Still, there was something oddly familiar about her. It gnawed at the edges of his memory, but he couldn’t quite placeit. He drained the last of his coffee and stood, taking his empty mug to the counter. She glanced up as he passed but darted her gaze away just as fast, focusing instead on the books she was holding.
“Thanks,” he said. “That was… excellent. Better than Starbucks, hands down.”
“Glad you liked it,” she replied, polite but distant. She still didn’t look him in the eye.
That grated. Quinten prided himself on making an impression, and that she appeared to be determined not to acknowledge him properly only made him more curious.
“Are you new here?” He leaned casually against the bookcase.
She lifted her chin, and a small, almost imperceptible smile crossed her lips. “No. I was born and raised in Cedarburg.”
He frowned as he studied her face more closely. “You were? You look vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember your name.”
“It’s Raisa Winslow,” she said, for the first time willingly meeting his gaze. She sounded calm, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—annoyance?
The name hit him like a freight train. “Wallflower Winslow?” The words slipped out before he could stop them and he winced inwardly.
Her expression didn’t change, but the faint tightening of her jaw was answer enough.
A punch in the gut wouldn’t have surprised him more. The shy, awkward girl who’d been invisible in high school had grown into a woman so gorgeous it made his head spin. The ugly duckling wasn’t simply a swan now; she was the whole damn lake.
Chapter Four
The cursor blinked impatiently at the end of the last sentence, taunting Raisa with its silence. She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension that had built up during her writing sprint. This wasn’t her best work, but the bones of the scene were there. She could polish it later.
She reached for her mug of now-lukewarm tea and took a sip, letting her gaze drift over the words she’d poured onto the screen moments ago.
Yani’s heart thundered in his chest, each beat syncing with the primal pull toward the girl standing across the clearing. For years, she’d been a fixture in his life—a face he failed to register beyond its familiarity. But now... now she was everything.
Her dark hair reflected the moonlight, gleaming like the surface of a calm lake under the stars. The lines of her face were sharp but softened by her innocent eyes, bright with curiosity and a hint of uncertainty.
It wasn’t just her beauty that struck him—it was the way she stood, quiet but unyielding, a strength woven intothe very fabric of her being. Yani’s wolf stirred, growling softly in recognition.
Fate had chosen her. And there was no going back.
Yani, the hero in her latest story, was a high school senior, an absolute hunk and the crush of all the girls in school. He also was a werewolf and the pack Alpha’s son.
Raisa exhaled as she took in that last scene, fidgeting with her mug. Something about the hero felt... off—or maybe too real. She wasn’t sure which.
She returned to the beginning of the chapter where Yani was introduced as a broad-shouldered, brown-haired wide receiver shrugging into a black leather jacket.
Frustrated with herself, she lowered her mug to the desk and closed her eyes in exasperation. No wonder her words unsettled her.
