Page 30 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"Walked. Thought I’d enjoy the snowfall." He exhales sharply. "Did not expect how fast the storm would get."
“Walked? You shouldn’t even be outside.”
“I know. But I wanted to see if you needed any help.” He shrugs, a faint curve at the edge of his mouth, though his movements are stiff with cold. Snowflakes scatter from his sleeves as he tugs at the zipper of his coat.
“Help?” I tilt my head toward the gray-white chaos outside.
"Yeah." He exhales, short and sharp as he pulls free of his coat, draping it over his arm. Despite the cold clinging to his skin, he looks warm in that steady, self-possessed way I’ve learned is just him.
His hand runs through his damp hair where the snow’s melted, a casual kind of gesture that seems more like instinct than thought.
My eyes flick toward his booth, unchanged since this morning. The card propped by the vase. I’d almost forgotten it was still there, like a quiet placeholder for every moment I spent glancing toward the door, waiting for him to walk in.
I fold the towel and lean back against the counter. “You shouldn’t have risked it.”
“And miss the chance to play hero? Never.” His lips twitch, that faint smile appearing again as he steps deeper into thewarmth of the café, snow trailing in damp patches across the hardwood.
There’s enough lightness in the words to make me roll my eyes. But the way his smile lingers—gentle at the edges, something a little too close to sincerity glinting just behind it—keeps my response lodged in my throat.
Instead, I nod toward the corner booth. “Well, your booth is still waiting. Untouched.”
“Good,” he says, stepping away with a new ease, peeling off a glove and dropping it into his coat pocket. “Didn’t want to risk losing my card collection. Wouldn’t know what to drink without you.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I shake my head, letting out a soft laugh I hope will deflect the strange little ache threading through his words.
“We’ve got work to do if we’re getting out of here before the roads disappear. The storm's accelerating, and everyone is hunkering down." I study his appearance more carefully, noticing the shadows under his eyes and tension in his jaw. "You really should head back if you want any chance of making it."
His brows furrow.
"Everything okay?" I ask, surprising myself with the concern in my voice.
"Just..." He runs a hand through his snow-damp hair. "Technical difficulties. Been working since four this morning trying to solve an encryption issue."
"Wait here." I study him for a moment, then make a decision.
In the back room, I pull out ingredients I've been saving for a special recipe—cardamom, cinnamon, a touch of saffron, and my secret weapon, a dark chocolate infused with chili. The preparation takes precision and patience, the aroma rich and complex as it comes together.
When I return, Max stares out the window at the intensifying storm, shoulders tight with whatever weight he's carrying.
"Try this." I place a tall glass mug before him, filled with a creation that looks nothing like his usual order.
"What is it?" He turns, eyebrow raised.
"Off-menu special. The Cognitive Reboot."
Skepticism crosses his features, but he takes the mug, inhaling the aroma first—a habit I've noticed and appreciated. His first sip is tentative, followed immediately by a second, longer one. His eyes widen slightly.
"This is..." He takes another sip, closing his eyes briefly. "What's in it?"
"Trade secret." I lean against the counter. "How's the encryption problem?"
"How did you know it was encryption?"
I pause and cock my head. "You literally just said you were trying to solve an encryption issue."
"Did I?"
"Yes." I don’t mention that I understand exactly what he's working on from the snippets of calls I've overheard.
