Page 77 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"What are you doing here?" I ask when he finally sets me down, my hands framing his face as if to confirm he's real.
Max's smile widens. "I found a third option."
Before he can elaborate, the door swings open again, admitting the entire morning coffee crew—Ruth from The PickAxe, Darlene from Maggie's, Riley and Noah, Sheriff Donovan, and half a dozen other regulars, all mysteriously arriving at once despite the weather.
"Did we miss it?" Ruth demands, shaking her umbrella at Eleanor. "You were supposed to text when he got here."
"Just arrived," Eleanor assures her, producing a bottle of champagne from her enormous purse. "Perfect timing."
"What is happening right now?" I look around at the gathering crowd, bewildered.
Max takes my hands in his, drawing my attention back. "I’m taking a new role—Creative Director and Chief Innovation Officer—with full remote work capabilities."
Hope blooms in my chest, dangerous and sweet. "You can work from anywhere?"
"From anywhere with decent internet." His eyes never leave mine. "More importantly, I'm opening a satellite office focusing on rural tech initiatives. Turns out there's a perfect location in a small mountain town with excellent coffee."
The assembled crowd breaks into knowing chuckles.
"You're staying in Angel's Peak?" My voice comes out as a whisper.
"If that's okay with the local coffee shop owner." His smile turns suddenly uncertain. "I'm hoping she might be interested in a partnership. Professional and...otherwise."
Eleanor clears her throat loudly. "Boy, you're doing this all wrong. Show her the other thing."
Max shakes his head, a flush creeping up his neck. "I was getting to that part."
To my astonishment, he drops to one knee on the wet floor of Mountain Brew, pulling a small box from his pocket. The coffee shop erupts in gasps and murmurs.
"Lily Brock," he begins, voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes, "I know this is fast. I know we've only known each other for a few weeks, but I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
He opens the box to reveal a ring unlike any I've seen—a coffee bean design in rose gold, tiny diamonds creating the impression of morning dew on the bean's surface.
"Marianne helped design it," he explains, nodding toward the town jeweler who's appeared in the growing crowd. "Said it had to be as unique as you are."
"Max," I breathe, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"I'm not asking you to marry me today." His smile is gentle, understanding. "This is a promise. A commitment that I'm all in—whenever you're ready."
The coffee shop has gone silent, every face turned toward us expectantly.
"I've spent my life coding perfect systems," Max continues, "creating order from chaos, but falling in love with you has taught me that the most beautiful things in life can't be planned or programmed. They happen in unexpected collisions, in messy, imperfect moments. Like when a distracted tech CEO crashes into a coffee shop owner and changes both their lives forever. I want to build something permanent with you, to grow together, to create our own perfect blend."
Tears blur my vision as I stare down at this man who has upended my carefully constructed world in the most wonderful way.
"Yes," I whisper, then louder, "Yes. To all of it. The partnership, the promise, the future—everything."
Max slides the ring onto my finger, then rises to capture my lips in a kiss that tastes of rain and coffee and infinite possibility. The coffee shop erupts in cheers and applause, the sound nearly drowning out my hammering heart.
When we part, breathless, Max rests his forehead against mine. "I've never been a believer in love at first sight," he murmurs for my ears alone. "But I fell for you the moment you yelled at me for spilling your lattes."
I laugh, dizzy with joy. "I distinctly recall thinking you were the most infuriating man I'd ever met."
"I'm still infuriating," he promises with a grin. "But now I'm all yours."
Eleanor clears her throat, holding up the champagne bottle. "If you two are quite finished, we have a toast to make. To new beginnings, perfect blends, and the best damn collision Angel's Peak has ever seen!"
One week later, snow falls gently outside the windows of my cottage—our cottage—as Max carries the last of his boxes through the door. The space that once felt so small now seems exactly right, filled with the mingled scents of coffee and his cologne, our possessions finding their places together as naturally as we found each other.
