Page 63 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"Eager to get home?" Max asks, his voice teasing but rough with desire.
"Just cold," I lie, though the flush on my skin has nothing to do with the temperature.
His low chuckle tells me he sees right through me. "Is that so? Because I could have sworn you've been watching the clock since we left the shop."
I've been caught. "Maybe I'm just curious about what you have planned."
"Curious?" He stops abruptly under a streetlight, turning me to face him. His eyes are dark with intent as they search mine. "Or impatient?"
"Both," I admit, past pretending. Our escalating intimacy has stripped away my defenses, leaving me raw and honest in ways I never expected.
His smile is slow and predatory. "Good. I like knowing you want this as much as I do."
We resume walking, but at a faster pace. My cottage comes into view, the teal door a welcome sight. My fingers tremble slightly as I fit the key into the lock, hyperaware of Max standing close behind me, his breath warm against my neck.
Once inside, he sets the pastry box on the kitchen counter before turning to me. The intensity in his gaze makes my knees weak.
"Hang up your coat," he says, his voice quiet but commanding. "Then come here."
The directive sends a shiver down my spine. I respond to this aspect of him—the controlled authority, the quiet confidence that expects obedience. I shrug out of my coat, hanging it on the hook by the door, my movements deliberately slow as his eyes track me.
"Now what?" I ask, though we both know I'm not really asking for instructions. I'm inviting him to take control, to guide me through whatever new territory he plans to explore tonight.
His phone chimes with an incoming email, breaking the moment. He glances down. His brow furrows. Only gradually, do I become aware of his prolonged silence.
When I look up, his expression has darkened, jaw tight as he stares at his screen.
"Everything okay?"
"Not exactly." He turns the phone toward me, revealing the headline: "Tech Genius Max Lawson's Secret Mountain Hideaway—Exclusive Photos Reveal Romantic Getaway with Mystery Woman."
My stomach drops as I scan the article. There are photos of us walking together in town, entering my cottage, and even one through my kitchen window of Max cooking breakfast. The invasion of privacy is shocking enough, but it's the final paragraphs that make my blood run cold:
"Sources close to the tech mogul suggest this mountain romance might be more than a casual fling. The mystery woman, identified as local coffee shop owner Lily Brock, appears to have her own tech background. Insiders are now questioning if there's a connection to Lawson's latest security project and Brock's controversial exit from BrewTech following allegations of corporate espionage..."
The room spins slightly as I hand the phone back to him. Two years of carefully constructed anonymity, destroyed in one tabloid article.
Chapter 22
"How did they—"My voice falters as I reread the article, my vision tunneling until all I can see is my name next to "BrewTech" and "corporate espionage" in stark black letters. The room tilts sickeningly, my stomach plummeting as if I've stepped off a cliff.
"This is going to ruin everything." Cold sweat breaks out across my skin as the full weight of exposure crashes down, my lungs constricting until each breath becomes a struggle.
Max's expression hardens. "I'll have my team issue a cease and desist immediately. This is a clear invasion of privacy."
"That won't matter." I sink onto a nearby stool, legs suddenly unsteady. "Once it's out there, it's out there. Everyone in Angel's Peak will see this. Everyone will know."
"Know what?" Max sets his phone down and moves closer. "That you were wrongfully accused? That you're the brilliant mind behind algorithms that revolutionized an industry?"
"They'll know I lied. That I've been hiding." My voice catches. "That I'm not Lily the coffee shop owner. I'm Lily Brock, the corporate spy who sold out her company."
"You're not a spy. You were framed." Max's voice is firm with conviction.
"Do you think that matters?" I gesture toward his phone. "They've already connected me to your security project. How long before someone suggests I'm trying to steal your work, too?"
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Lily, no one who knows you would believe that."
"No one here knows me. Not really." The truth of this hits harder than expected. "I've spent two years carefully constructing this life, keeping everyone at arm's length so my past couldn't catch up. And now..."
