“Grab your bag and meet me downstairs. We’ll make it a slow morning.”
Bri disappears down the hall, and I pull my phone from my pocket.
Won’t make it to the meeting. You’ve got it.
Before Henson or Griffin can respond, I fire off another message to Dre to clear my morning.
By the time Bri comes down, backpack slung over her shoulder, I’ve got my keys in hand and the front door open.
I’m already picturing the warm smell of roasted beans and that corner booth Brianna used to like.
That place has been sitting in the back of my mind for days now, though I haven’t bothered asking myself why.
It’s not because I’ve been thinking about that barista since I walked in there last week.
Or because I’m curious about the same woman who interviewed at W.H.M. and stole my breath away.
And most definitely not because I’ve been thinking about her more than I should.
When Briannaand I walk into Willow’s, I’m immediately hit with the heavy scent of coffee and fresh pastries.
“So what are you gonna have, Piglet?”
My eyes instinctively go to the bar, and I try to tell myself I’mnotlooking for Mya.
Memories of long, brown curls tumbling in every direction flash into my mind. Skin the warm shade of honey and bronze, like sun-kissed caramel. Mya looked… ethereal that morning.
And then, when she walked into W.H.M. for an interview a few days later...
The way I felt when I stepped into the boardroom was something I hadn’t let myself feel in years. Desire curled in my gut, where I thought I’d buried it for good.
It was dangerous and unwelcome.
“Dad.” Brianna’s voice cuts through the noise of my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”
I shake my head, dragging myself back to the present. “Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”
“A hot chocolate with whipped cream, please.” She repeats it slowly, like I’m hard of hearing. Then she smirks and nudges me in the side. “What’s got you so distracted, huh?”
I laugh, the sound loosening the knot in my chest. The awkward tension from earlier at the house has melted away, and seeing her tease me like this feels like a gift. I’m just glad she’s in better spirits.
“Got it, Piglet,” I say, ruffling her hair. She pushes my hand away with a laugh. “Want to wait for me at a table?”
Brianna nods and heads for the booth by the window.
I turn back towards the counter, stepping closer. My gaze sweeps the line of baristas again, but Mya isn’t there. Maybe she’s not working today.Pull yourself together, Miller.
Then I catch movement below the bar. A cascade of familiar curls, disappearing out of sight.
My brow furrows.
Did she just… duck under the counter?
6
MYA
It’s a typical Tuesday morning at the café.