Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Sam
The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries hugged me the second I stepped into The Green Bean Café.
The early morning light slanted through the wide front windows, casting golden streaks across the worn wooden floors.
The place had been a Havenwood staple for as long as I could remember.
It was cozy, familiar, filled with the lulling hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine.
And, as of recently, it was becoming a part of my routine with Liam.
He was already at our usual window table, a black coffee in front of him, one leg sprawled out beneath the table like he’d settled in a while ago.
His eyes were on his phone. Thumb lazily scrolling.
His attention was half here, half somewhere else.
He didn’t look like he was waiting. He just was, like the space had shaped itself around him.
I, on the other hand, still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with me.
The trip had done something.
Or maybe it had peeled something back, exposing what had always been there but was easier to ignore.
Before I watched him press sunscreen onto his broad shoulders.
Before his laughter curled warm in my chest as he made an offhanded, flirty comment.
Before the pool, the late-night fire, the gummies.
Before I felt my own damn hand in his, holding tight in the glow of the embers.
Before I looked at Liam Carter and realized I was noticing.
The way his forearms flexed when he lifted his coffee.
How his throat bobbed with each sip.
The twist in my stomach as he looked up at me.
“Morning, sunshine,” Liam greeted, setting his phone down and shining a lazy grin. “Took you long enough.”
I rolled my eyes as I stepped up to the counter. “It’s 7:45 in the morning, Liam. You’re lucky I even put on pants for this.”
He beamed. “You say that like I wouldn’t welcome pantsless Sam.”
I flipped him off as I approached the barista counter, catching Morgan’s eye. “Morning, Morgan. Usual, please.”
“You got it, Sam,” they said, already turning toward the espresso machine.
I wandered over to the table, sliding into the seat across from him. “You, on the other hand, don’t have the excuse of being on summer vacation. What’s your excuse for being conscious this early?”
Liam leaned back in his chair. As he stretched, his gray Henley rode up just slightly to expose a strip of tanned skin. “Had some orders come in for the bar that I needed to check on. Figured if I was up, I might as well bribe you with caffeine and my presence.”
I let out a laugh. “How generous of you.”
He winked, tilting his head. “You’re welcome.”
I shook my head, amused. “Bold of you to assume I’m not sleeping until noon and surviving on cereal and spite.”
“Sounds like you need structure in your life.”
“Sounds like I need that latte.”
Morgan appeared beside us setting my coffee down with a wink. “Enjoy, boys.”
I gave them a grateful nod before taking a long sip, already feeling more human. Liam just watched me.
“So,” he said, tone light but fishing, “you sleep okay last night?”
I narrowed my eyes at him over the rim of my cup. “Are you asking if I’m well-rested or trying to find out if I hooked up with someone?”
“Yes.”
I grinned, but didn’t answer. He didn’t need to know everything.
I shifted in my seat, watching him as I sipped my coffee. My brain was working overtime, cataloging every stupid little thing about him I hadn’t allowed myself to notice before. My fingers curled around my mug as I took another sip, more for the distraction than the caffeine.
That heather-gray Henley with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the fabric soft, worn in that way only time and love could manage. A black ball cap sat low on his head, shadowing his eyes, but not quite hiding the dark curls that snuck out from underneath, always just a little too wild to be tamed.
His beard was its usual full shape, but along his cheekbone and neck, a smear of stubble lingered like he’d meant to clean it up but got distracted.
Gravity bent a little harder wherever he was. Even when he wasn’t speaking, Liam took up space in this quiet, anchored way.
The longer I looked at him, the more tangled my thoughts became.
The curve of his fingers around the mug.
The way the light caught on the edge of his jaw, highlighting the uneven line where he hadn’t trimmed his beard clean.
One curl had slipped loose near his ear, stubborn and soft, like it refused to follow orders.
He hadn’t bothered to fix it, and that, somehow, was the part that got me.
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just let the silence stretch while I tried to decide what, exactly, I was feeling and why it felt so loud in my chest.
Liam shifted slightly in his seat. Not much, just enough to lean his elbows on the table. His gaze moved to me and lingered.
“You doing okay?” he asked, voice low and steady.
And just like that, my ability to pretend I hadn’t been looking at him like he hung the damn moon disappeared.
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re quiet.”
I hesitated. Because no, I wasn’t okay. I was feeling off-kilter, restless, stuck in my own damn head. But what was I supposed to say? That I’d been thinking about him way too much? That I was analyzing every little moment, every lingering touch, every look that felt different now?
So instead, I leaned back in my chair. “Some of us prefer to keep things low-key, Carter. Can’t all be human fireworks.”
Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “Deflect all you want, sweetheart.”
And fuck. That word. That offhand, flirty ‘sweetheart’, that he said all the time without thinking twice, but still sent a strong current through my chest.
I looked down, stirring my coffee like it would somehow help me get my shit together.
Liam just watched me for a second longer. Then he leaned back in his chair and stretched again, arms high.
My breath caught.
There was a fine trail of hair leading from his navel down beneath the waistband of his jeans, and it took everything in me not to stare.
Just one second too long, and I’d be caught.
But God, the things I wanted to do to that skin.
The taste of him sat in my imagination like it had taken up permanent residence.
Bears had always been my type. Guys with thick forearms, beards, a bit of a belly, that casual strength, the kind of warmth that looked good in a flannel or nothing at all.
But Liam wasn’t just any bear. He was the one that made something low in my stomach pull tight, something that made my pants a little too snug in places I really didn’t need them to be right now.
I forced my eyes back to my coffee, grateful for the cup between my hands and the fact that I hadn’t completely lost the ability to form words.
Liam opened his mouth, then paused.
“You know what’s wild?” he said. “I had this whole idea for the bar last night. Like… themed trivia nights, but not the basic kind. More immersive. Costumes encouraged. Drink specials that match the theme. I was picturing, like, an 80s horror night, fog machine, synth music, fake blood packets—”
I found myself smiling despite me. “Okay, I’m listening.”
He leaned in. “Right? And then maybe a Disney villain night, but adults-only, obviously. Evil cocktails. Campy prizes. People going way too hard with Maleficent horns and shit.”
“Honestly?” I said. “That sounds kind of amazing.”
Liam nodded enthusiastically. “See! That’s what I thought. And I was gonna tell you about how this guy at the bar last week basically proved it would work because he came in dressed as—”
He stopped.
Not mid-word.
Not confused.
Just… stopped.
Stared out the window for a second.
Then shrugged.
“Yeah, I don’t care about this story anymore.”
I blinked. “You don’t care?”
“Nope,” he said easily. “My brain moved on. ADHD. Been doing that since I was a kid.”
That surprised a laugh out of me. “So I just… wait patiently until the next thought arrives?”
“Pretty much.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Guess I need to get used to that.”
Something in his expression shifted. Small. Soft. Like that answer landed somewhere important.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He nodded once, satisfied.
“Anyway,” he drawled, “you should swing by Stag & Lantern later. I’ll be there most of the night.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Inviting me to drink alone?”
Liam smirked. “You say that like you won’t enjoy it.”
And the worst part?
If it meant I’d get to see his forearms flexed when he dried a glass, the curve of his shoulders under those damn fitted shirts, the laugh that came so easily when someone flirted with him from across the bar… I would.
Liam
The bar was packed by the time Sam walked in. Stag & Lantern had that perfect Friday night energy, alive but not overwhelming, bodies filling the space without suffocating it.
I caught sight of Sam immediately, standing just inside the door, his focused eyes scanning the crowd before making his way toward the bar.
I’d been expecting him.
Not that he’d said outright he was coming, but I’d tossed out the invitation the other morning at the café.
And Sam did show up places. He and Callie treated happy hour like a sport, bouncing between the Rivermere Bistro and the Stag & Lantern in pursuit of the best deals.
They had their favorites, their usuals, their inside jokes with bartenders.
But this wasn’t their usual time. And Callie wasn’t with him.
Which made his appearance feel different.
If he was here tonight, alone, it wasn’t just for the drink special. It meant he’d chosen this. Chosen me.
The thought settled warm and wild in my chest, like I’d just won a game I didn’t know I was playing.
I wiped my hands on a towel and leaned against the bar as he slid onto a stool. I didn’t know why I liked seeing him here alone, but I did.
“Look who actually showed up,” I teased.