“Hey, listen,” I say, shaking off the memories and changing the subject. “Rowyn mentioned you guys are short-staffed at the Nook. And something about needing childcare?”
Ash nods, his mouth twisting. “Yeah, spring always hits us hard. The college kids head home, and a couple of our regulars moved on. Makes it tough to cover shifts sometimes.”
“Sorry to hear that, man. If there’s anything I can do…” I offer, even though I know I can’t exactly step behind a counter and start brewing lattes. Sure, I might be a great baker, but still…
He gives me a tired smile. “Thanks, but we’ll figure it out.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head toward my car. By the time I slide into the driver’s seat, the weight of the day catches up to me. Muscles heavy, brain buzzing. I tug out my phone before starting the engine.
Me: Still up for tonight?
I don’t know why I’m holding my breath, but I am. Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again. My pulse kicks up like I’m waiting on a draft pick announcement instead of a text from a woman I’ve known half my life.
Rowyn: I am.
Simple. Two words. But they hit me square in the chest.
Rowyn: Still at the office. Heading home shortly. Billy says hi.
What the heck. Why is she with Billy and why is he saying hi to me, like we’re old friends, or even new friends? We’re not. Wait, why does he know who she’s texting? Deciding to ignore all those questions, I text back.
Me: I have to run to the grocery store. I’ll be there in about an hour.
Rowyn: So domesticated. My offer to cook still stands.
I grin.
Me: Nope. See you soon.
I hover over the screen for a moment, thumb resting just above the keyboard. I consider telling her about dinner tomorrow night with Penn and Jaylynn, but I decide to wait and ask her in person.
Still, I don’t put my phone away right away. I just sit there, staring at the screen, a stupid half-smile tugging at my mouth. It’s weirdly… nice. Checking in with her. Having someone to text about groceries and dinner plans instead of travel schedules and game film.
I didn’t realize how much I missed that, the quiet, easy connection that sneaks up on you and takes root before you even notice. Finally, I drop my phone onto the passenger seat, start the car, and pull out of the lot.
At the grocery store, I grab the essentials: pasta, scallops, wine, garlic bread, the basics for dinner. I head toward the cash register and pause, circling back to the pharmacy aisle. Condoms. Christ when was the last time I bought them. I don’t know, but it’s the responsible thing to do. Even if she’s on birth control, she might not trust a guy who’s been with bunnies in the past.
I pay for my things, and get out fast, before I overthink things any more than I already have Back home, I put the food away, swap my sweats for dark pants and a soft gray sweater, and take one last look in the mirror.
I look… presentable. Maybe even like a guy who knows what he’s doing. Which is funny, because my heart’s pounding like I’m heading into overtime. I shoot her a final text.
Me: On my way.
I stare at the message for a beat, then slide my phone into my pocket and head for the door. The night air hits me, cooler against my skin than earlier, but still carrying the faint scent of city rain and exhaust. I crank up the tunes in the car as darkness falls over the streets, letting the music try to steady my thoughts—which, of course, it doesn’t.
Instead, my brain goes rogue. Am I too dressed up? She’s used to seeing me in hoodies and sweatpants, not dress pants and a sweater that actually fits. Am I making a bigger deal out of tonight than it really is? Should I have stayed casual? Should I have… done anything differently?
By the time I pull into her driveway, my heart is hammering like I’m about to skate into overtime during the playoffs. I force my brain to shut off the chatter, telling myself to breathe, to act normal, to not trip over my own damn feet.
I climb out of the car and hurry to the front door, my palms slick with nervous sweat. Every step feels like it’s two inches off the ground. What the hell is happening to me?
And then she opens it.
Rowyn. Standing there. The soft light from the porch catches her hair, making it glow. Her eyes wide, lips curved into that nervous little smile that has me weak in the knees every damn time she aims it my way. She looks so beautiful, so innocent, so completely unaware of the storm she’s about to unleash in me.
I nearly stumble backward, words caught somewhere between my throat and my chest. My palms itch to reach out, to touch her, to steady myself, even though I know nothing in the world could make this simple moment feel steady.
Christ.