Page 24 of Falling Madly
“Sweet,” I said, following her to the door. “Cozy Creek Confectionary?”
Her head whipped around. “Is that still here?”
“Sure is. Bad coffee, great baking.”
“Perfect. I want a coffee that slaps me in the face and calls me names. And something insanely sweet to wash it down with.”
Her smile was quick. Too quick. Like she was plastering it on to cover the hurt. I wasn’t about to push her, though. Not when she was barely holding it together.
Chapter Eight
Teresa
The Cozy Creek Confectionary looked exactly as cute as I remembered, but also fresh and trendy. The place must have been renovated many times since my youth. The tall, paneled windows gave it a gingerbread house charm my mother once thought was the answer to her prayers. Nothing bad could happen in Cozy Creek.
The bell above the door jingled as we stepped inside. The smell of fresh baking was so intoxicating I felt like I was absorbing calories through my lungs. I wanted to live in this room. For the first time, I saw it through Mom’s eyes. She’d been through a divorce, with two kids in tow—one of them a moody teenager. Cozy Creek must have felt like the safe haven she’d been looking for.
A pretty woman in a pink apron smiled at us from behind the counter. “What can I get you?”
Trevor ordered us coffees and pointed at a tray of heart-shaped pink cookies in the cabinet. I nodded my approval. Theydid look sickly sweet, which would help if the coffee really was as bad as he claimed. I had no memory of it since I’d only picked up a coffee habit in college.
The cafe was packed with a mix of pensioners and high school kids, along with a couple of tourists on winter break. You could always spot them from their expensive snow gear and the fact that they photographed everything they ate.
Each table had a vase of pink roses. Pink hearts and garlands hung on the window. Valentine’s Day had obviously thrown up all over this town. I remembered Cozy Creek having a slight obsession with festivals and decorations, but this was next level—like a movie set.
“In my defense,” Trevor said, taking a sip of coffee and grimacing. “At Christmas, the color scheme was bit less obnoxious.”
“What’s wrong with pink?” I asked, grinning at him as I took a bite of my cookie. It helped with the motor oil of a coffee blend.
He emptied three creamers into his coffee and stirred.“Ach, I’m ashamed to admit I tend to forget about Valentine’s Day. It’s not exactly a big deal when you’ve no one to buy chocolates for. And it’s not like Denver will paint the whole town pink for it.”
I looked at the paper hearts currently obscuring my view through the window. “Yeah, this is something else.”
His eyes twinkled with mischief, mouth tugging into a smile. “So, when I said I was going to win yer heart and smack you in the face with small-town magic?—”
“That’s not what you said.”
“I’m sorry, lass. When I said I was going to transport you into a Hallmark movie and turn into an irresistible lumberjack. Flannel from head to toe. Flannel underwear and?—”
“Not even close.” I laughed so hard my eyes watered.
“Well, whatever I said I was going to do, I had no idea I’d be taking you into this theme park of commercialized romance.I swear this was not part of the plan! I’ve just been looking at office spaces and then this one popped up. I had a quick chat with Charlie and since they’re out of town, he asked if I could take a wee look.” He blushed, which made me smile.
“What?” I looked at him in mock horror. “Are you saying you haven’t been crocheting pink hearts for weeks on end in preparation?”
I liked seeing him a little flustered. He wasn’t playing it cool. I was so used to seeing Trevor with his unflappable smile and that nothing-can-get-to-him attitude. Here, he was different. A little on edge, like all of this meant something. Almost like he was worried.
That made no sense. We were friends, or at least friendly colleagues. We messaged daily. We joked and chatted and argued and never got mushy about… feelings. We never talked like he’d talked to me in the car.
I thought I’d been the only one grieving what I’d lost that night: my respect for him. Our connection. I’d lost my bonus reason to go to work—the spark that kept me going. The months after that had been dreary and hard, even though it was summer. I’d focused on my house hunting and had eventually bought my condo. Miraculously, really. And then I’d lost my job.
A thought hit me.
“Did you know about the restructuring at Wilde? Did you know before everyone else?”
Trevor’s eyes widened, and he froze for a second, staring at me. “Ye mean, before the first email?”
“You know what I mean.”
