Page 19 of Almost Ours
I glanced down as the orange blur reappeared, trotting calmly back toward the door with a smug flick of its tail.
“Isn’t that–”
“Peaches.” Harper exhaled a sharp breath. “Get your fuzzy butt back to the bookshop before someone files a complaint.”
I tried–and failed–not to laugh. “He’s got attitude.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered, dabbing once more at my flannel before stepping back. “I swear he’s part gremlin.”
I watched her turn back to the coffee station, the faint scent of vanilla trailing behind her. As she busied herself repouring my coffee, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Maybe getting scalded wasn’t such a bad way to start the day after all.
“Ryan!”
Benny’s voice cut through the moment, loud and dramatic as always. I turned to see him behind the counter, hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. He marched over, his expression a perfect blend of exasperation and affection.
“Thenerve,” Benny began, pointing an accusatory finger at me, “of you, sir. Theaudacity. Last time I saw you, you were on your way to Mrs. Nickols’ place, and we were joking about her kidnapping you. Then poof! Gone! No coffee, no croissant,nothing. For an entire week. If Shane hadn’t told me you werearound and safe, I was this close–this close–to filing a missing person’s report.”
I laughed, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I had to go out of town. Got called away last minute. Sorry for leaving you hanging.”
“You’re forgiven, but only because I like you,” Benny declared with a dramatic sigh, his shoulders sagging like he carried the weight of my absence.
“You’re too good to me, Benny,” I teased, shaking my head.
“Damn right I am,” he shot back before retreating to the kitchen, muttering something about flaky croissants and flaky customers.
When I turned back to Harper, she was holding the coffee and chocolate croissant in slightly trembling hands, her shoulders drawn in like she was trying to make herself smaller. Her eyes flicked up, then down again just as fast.
“This is–uh, it’s on the house,” she said quietly, her voice barely above the low hum of the espresso machine.
I took a step closer, reaching out–and our fingers brushed as I grasped the cup. She flinched, barely, enough that I noticed, though. Her hand pulled back quickly, like she was the one who had burned this time, and her eyes darted toward the floor.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said gently, adjusting my grip so she wouldn’t have to come any closer.
She gave a small shake of her head, still avoiding my gaze. “I spilled coffee on you.” Her voice was clipped. “It’s the least I can do.”
I hesitated, tempted to reassure her again, but something about the way her shoulders were tense and her body angled just slightly away told me not to push it. So I offered the simplest thing I could.
“Thank you.”
She gave the faintest nod in return.
For a second, I stood there, unsure whether to say more. Her whole posture said she wanted to disappear, and yet there was something in the way her fingers twisted the edge of her apron that made me think she was battling herself–fighting the instinct to retreat while trying not to be rude.
“Anyway,” I said softly, offering a small smile. “I’ll see you around.”
That earned the tiniest flicker of one from her too. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not quite a smile, but close.
I turned for the door, tucking the croissant under my arm and letting the warmth of the coffee seep through my palms. As I stepped into the cold, I glanced back, just once.
She was facing the espresso machine now, her hands busy and her head tilted slightly–as if she’d been watching. As if she wanted to make sure I was really gone.
It felt good to be out. I hadn’t realized how much I’d isolated myself until today. Staying holed up at home had started to feel like a second skin–heavy, suffocating. But stepping into the warmth of the bakery, hearing Benny’s rambling banter, catching the scent of fresh coffee and flour–it chipped away at something I hadn’t even noticed had hardened over.
And then there was her.
Harper.
I didn’t know what it was exactly–just that something about her had gotten under my skin in the span of five minutes. She was beautiful, no doubt. It wasn’t just that. It was the way her voice caught a little when she spoke, like she didn’t quite trust herself to be heard. The way she kept her distance, even when she was inches away. Like she was holding something back.
