The bell above the front door jingles, loud as a whistle on the ice. Ash backs in, arms full of supply boxes. He kicks the door closed behind him and muscles his way through the kitchen like it’s a defensive line. The playoffs are over, and even though physically we’re rested, we all carry that residual adrenaline—like we’re not sure what to do without something on the line.
The guys are all pitching in at the Nook, partly because Gina needs the help, but mostly because this place has become ours. A home base. A refuge.
A family.
One I want Rowyn firmly part of.
Ash drops a box onto the prep counter beside me, slices it open with a pocketknife. “Can’t wait for Vegas,” he mutters, and there’s excitement under the exhaustion. “Gina needs a break. Hell, I know Rowyn does too.”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing the finished roll into the tray. My heart does a stupid swell. He thinks of her like family as well. That matters.
He pauses mid-unpacking and glances at me. “You guys have been incredible, you know?” He nods toward the oven. “All the cooking, helping out. And Rowyn…helping with the kids. It means a lot.”
“We’re glad to,” I say, swallowing past sudden tightness. “Is your dad still taking the kids while we’re away?”
“Yeah.” Ash’s jaw softens. “He’s counting the days. Keeps telling everyone he gets to ‘run Camp Chaos’ for a weekend.”
“That’s so nice,” I say, and I mean it.
Maria slips in, grabs a carafe, silence hugging her like a second skin. She fills it at the sink, eyes distant—something bothering her.
I track her as she steps back into the dining area and watch through the serving window as she sets coffee in front of Tuck. He looks up, murmurs thanks, and there’s something between them—a soft moment, a careful one. Like they’re both pretending not to care when they clearly do.
“What’s going on with those two, anyway?” I jerk my head toward Tuck and Nicklas’ table as Ash rises from his chair. “I thought Tuck and Maria were a thing, but I swear the temperature in the café dropped a few degrees when she just served him his coffee.”
Ash shrugs, eyebrows raised. “Yeah… not sure. Maybe we need Elias’ grandmother Gladys in here—she’s a pro at this.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, she’s ruthless with matchmaking. Poor Elias and Taylor didn’t stand a chance.”
Maybe I could get her to work her magic on Rowyn and me. I bite my lip at the thought. But then reality nudges me, we’re practically living together, falling into each other’s arms every night. What started as a show, a lesson in pretending, has morphed into something real, effortless, terrifying, and exhilarating. Rowyn hasn’t mentioned that hot coffee-shop guy since we won the cup. Maybe some things don’t need fixing.
I turn back to the cinnamon rolls, rolling and cutting dough with precision, checking the clock more often than necessary. Noon is approaching, and my nerves start tightening. Rowyn said she’d try to stop by today, grab lunch if she could find a window in her insane schedule. Lately, she’s been run off her feet, and I’ve noticed that lightness in her smile is fading, her joy at work, her spark, seems just out of reach.
The bell jingles. I slide the pans into the oven, washing my hands quickly, my heart picking up pace. Penn and Jaylynn slide into a booth with Tuck and Nicklas. Jaylynn leans close, talking animatedly, gesturing wildly, and I grin—classic matchmaking in action. Nicklas looks mildly impressed, slightly overwhelmed. I doubt anything could tame him, but it’s fun to watch the effort.
I’m about to retreat back into the kitchen when the bell jingles again.
And there she is.
Rowyn. Professional attire—pencil skirt, crisp blouse, tailored coat draped over her arm. My chest tightens, heart tripping over itself, and for one beat, I don’t move. I just watch.
Then she sees me. That smile. That slow, easy smile that always stops me in my tracks. She starts toward me, and my joy spikes. Until I notice who she’s with.
A shadow tugs at the edges of my happiness.
She reaches me, and I touch her arm lightly, leaning in for a quick kiss. She inches back, apologetic, her eyes flicking toward… him.
“I hope you don’t mind Billy joining us for lunch,” she says, voice low. “I mentioned I was coming here, and he asked if he could tag along.”
“Not at all,” I say, my smile automatic, polite—though beneath it, a frisson of irritation coils in my chest. Billy. That snake. Hunting for a story, sniffing around where he doesn’t belong. And here he is, in Gina’s place, in my lunch moment with Rowyn.
I glance over her shoulder at him. Smile. Calm, polite. But my stomach clenches. I’m hoping he’s going to mind his own business since Rowyn is a co-worker—he wouldn’t want to hurt her. Probably. Maybe.
“Wow,” Billy breathes, leaning in slightly, sniffing the air. “What smells so good?”
I grit my teeth just enough to make it seem casual, while my mind spins. Cinnamon rolls. Laughter. Tension. Rowyn. And that other guy in the mix.
And just like that, lunch is anything but simple.