Page 32 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"Oh, I considered it. But books are far less complicated than people." She accepts the carrier of chai lattes I hand her. "Though sometimes just as revealing." She gives Max a significant look. "Your choice of reading material says a lot about you."
"Does it?" His tone is carefully neutral.
"Mmm. 'The Ethics of Privacy in the Digital Age' isn't casual beach reading." She smiles at his surprised expression. "I'm a librarian. I notice what people read. You've been using our research terminal during our extended hours."
I hadn't known Max was visiting the library. The revelation that he's been integrating himself into Angel's Peak beyond just Mountain Brew creates a strange feeling in my chest—not quite jealousy, but something adjacent. A sense that he's buildingconnections in my town, my sanctuary, that exist independent of me.
"Anyway, I should get these delivered before they cool." Hannah nods toward the window, where the snow falls more heavily now. "Lily, don't stay open too late. This storm is moving faster than predicted."
After she leaves, Max returns to his mug, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Interesting woman."
"Hannah sees everything." I begin preparing for closing, aware of how quickly the weather is deteriorating. "And remembers everything. She's been cataloguing Angel's Peak's secrets since she was old enough to read."
"Including yours?" His question is casual, but his eyes are intent.
"I don't have secrets. I make coffee, and you should probably go." The words feel strange in my mouth, reluctant. "It's getting worse by the minute."
Max glances at his watch, then back at the storm. "What about you? When will you head home?"
"After I close up. My cottage is only a few blocks away."
He stares into his coffee for a moment, seemingly debating something. "Mind if I stay a bit longer? That drink is doing something to my brain chemistry, and I think I just figured out the encryption solution." He pulls his laptop from his bag, clutching it against his chest.
"Told you. Cognitive Reboot." I gesture to his usual booth. "Stay as long as you need. I'm officially closed anyway."
While Max works, I complete my closing routine, occasionally stealing glances at him. The tension has eased from his shoulders, replaced by focused intensity as his fingers fly across the keyboard. His presence should feel intrusive in the empty shop, but somehow it doesn't.
Chapter 12
"You know,most people go to the mountains to escape work, not bring more of it." I slide a fresh mug beside Max's laptop.
An hour has passed since I officially closed, yet here we are—him typing with monastic focus, me pretending there's still cleaning to do. The shop's silence is punctuated only by his keystrokes and the occasional muttered curse when something doesn't compile.
He doesn't look up, just reaches blindly for the mug. "Most people don't have investors breathing down their necks." His fingers find the handle, and he takes a sip without breaking eye contact with his screen. Then freezes. Blinks. Finally looks at me.
"This isn't coffee."
"Congratulations on your functioning taste buds." I lean against the counter, arms crossed. "It's hot chocolate with a splash of bourbon. Even code-breaking geniuses need sugar sometimes."
He takes another sip, slower this time. The corner of his mouth lifts—not quite a smile, but close enough to count as a victory. "Not bad. Though I'm not sure mixing alcohol with cryptography is wise."
The corner of my mouth twitches like I'm about to say something smart, but the wind howls against the window hard enough to steal my attention.
Outside, Angel’s Peak has vanished entirely, swallowed by thick, blinding sheets of white. From here, you wouldn’t even know there were mountains behind the storm. Snow slams against the door in gusting waves, the drifts piling quickly against the front walkway.
Max follows my gaze to the snow-covered glass, his shoulders tightening at the sound of the wind scraping against the corners of the building. My phone buzzes on the counter, cutting through the silence and the weather outside.
We both glance down as the town’s emergency alert system flashes across my screen:
ALL ROADS CLOSED. SHELTER IN PLACE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye, my pulse suddenly louder than the storm outside.
“Well,” I say, slipping the phone back onto the counter, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “Looks like you’re stuck here.”
Max leans back slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile returning to his face. “At least I know the coffee’s good.”
Perfect.
