1. Frankie
Chapter One
FRANKIE
Present day
The predawn quiet of Heart's Delight Diner belongs to me alone. It's the only time the place is truly silent, before the coffee machines hiss, the bacon sizzles, and the bell above the door jingles non-stop. I unlock the back door at 4:30 AM, same as my grandmother did for forty years before me.
I flip on the lights, breathing in the familiar scent. This coffee and cinnamon-scented place is in my blood now. A couple of years ago I never would have imagined myself back in Ember Heart.
“Rise and shine, old girl,” I whisper to the ancient espresso machine as I fill its tank. It responds with a low gurgle that sounds suspiciously like an old woman grumbling about being woken up too early.
Some days I still can't believe this is my life. Trading upmarket city restaurants for Grandma's recipes and the steady rhythm of small-town life. The corporate ladder for a step stool to reach the top shelf of baking supplies.
No regrets, though. Even if I don’t have any family here, I’m part of the community. Grandma would be proud. I push down the familiar sadness that comes when I think of her and concentrate on what I’m doing.
By 5:15, the muffins are in the oven, filling the diner with the scent of blueberries and vanilla. I'm mixing pancake batter when Henry arrives, yawning as he ties his apron.
“Mornin’, boss.” He heads straight for the coffee I've already prepared. At sixty-five, Henry's been serving coffee here since I was in pigtails. He refused to retire when I took over, thank god. I'd be lost without him.
“Delivery comin’ today?” he asks, already arranging coffee mugs in neat rows.
“Just produce. The egg guy's coming tomorrow.”
“Ah, Thursday.” Henry nods sagely. “Blake day.”
I nearly drop the whisk. “Blake day?”
“Thursday's. All the Blake boys. Like clockwork.” He smirks. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Especially a certain helicopter pilot who's been nursin’ the same cup of coffee every morning for two years while starin’ at you.”
“Ryder Blake does not stare,” I protest, though my cheeks heat up. “And he comes in Mondays and Tuesdays too, not just Thursdays.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Henry's eyebrows rise knowingly as he counts on his fingers.
I turn away to hide my rosy face. “Well, it's good for business.”
“Sure is. Especially since he only orders coffee, but tips like he's tryin’ to single-handedly fund your retirement.”
I busy myself arranging the pastry case, but my mind drifts to Ryder Blake. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that dark messy hair he's always pushing back from his forehead. The way his gray-green eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles… not that he smiles much around me.
Two years of awkward silence. Two years of him coming in, ordering coffee, barely making eye contact. He’ll always leave a ridiculously large tip. It makes no sense, especially since I've heard him laughing and joking with others around town. He's charming and talkative with everyone else in Ember Heart. Just not with me.
He acts like he can’t stand me. Ever since that first visit, when he found out there were no blueberry pancakes on the menu, he’s been cold as ice. But Henry seems to think Ryder has a crush on me. And while I’d usually flirt a little to find out if that was true, something makes me shy around him, too. I’ve tried to strike up a conversation, but one of us will drop a utensil, or spill some coffee, and the awkwardness persists.
The bell jingles as our first customers arrive, a group of forest rangers heading out for an early shift. Pouring coffee and taking orders, the rhythm of the diner is part of me now.
By 7:30, we're in full swing. The booths are filled with regulars; Mrs. Ramirez with her romance novel, the retired teachers in their corner booth debating politics, young parents juggling toddlers and pancake syrup.
The bell chimes again. My heart stutters as Ryder Blake ducks through the doorway. He makes my core hot and my breathing quicken. It’s ridiculous. The man barely speaks to me.
He's in his search and rescue uniform; dark olive pants, black boots, and a gray t-shirt with the SAR logo that stretches across his broad, muscular chest. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just showered after a morning workout. He nods in my direction, then slides into his usual spot at the counter. The same stool, every day, with a clear view of wherever I happen to be working.
I grab a mug and the coffee pot, steeling myself for another thrilling conversation.
“Morning. The usual?” I put the mug in front of him.
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks.” His voice is deep, with that slight roughness that always makes something flutter in my stomach.
A whole two words today. We're on a roll.
Henry catches my eye from across the counter and mimics a fish, opening and closing his mouth dramatically. I shoot him a warning look.
“Storm's coming in,” I say, trying again as I pour his coffee. “Weather service says it could be a big one.”
Ryder nods, taking the mug. Our fingers brush, and he pulls back like I've burned him. He definitely hates me. “I’m keeping tabs on the weather service.”
Seven whole words this time. Maybe we'll make it to a complete paragraph by the time I'm eighty.
“I need to check on my grandmother's cabin later,” I say, not sure why I'm still trying. “Make sure the shutters are secure before it hits. Last time they blew open and all the glass got broken. Cost me a fortune to replace.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Is it concern? “Up on Blackbird Ridge?”
“Yeah. It's not far.”
His gaze is more intense now. “Might want to wait.”
“I can't. The roof was leaking last time. If I don't check the patches before this hits, I might lose the whole ceiling.” I shrug.
He frowns, looking like he wants to say more, but then the bell rings again and in walks Logan Blake, followed by Troy. They take the stools on either side of their brother.
“Frankie,” Logan nods.
“Two coffees, coming up. Breakfast?”
“Just ate,” Troy says, grinning. “But I'll never turn down your coffee.”
The contrast between the brothers always amuses me. Logan, serious and stoic. Troy, friendly and talkative. And Ryder? He laughs with his brothers outside and jokes with the other search and rescue workers. It's just in here, with me, that he turns into a cold, polite robot.
“How's Nina?” I ask Troy, pouring his coffee.
“Keeping Axel in line,” Troy laughs. “She runs a tight ship.”
Ryder stares into his coffee cup like it contains the secrets of the universe.
The diner phone rings, and Henry answers it. After a brief conversation, he calls over to me, “Frankie, that's Mrs. Kim. Her bridge club wants to come in for an early lunch, but she's worried about the weather. Wants to know if we're staying open.”
“Be right there,” I tell him, then look back at the brothers.
As I step away, Ryder finally meets my eyes. “Be safe today, Frankie. On the mountain.”
My heart flutters at his words. “Always am.”
I head over to take the phone call, and when I turn back a few minutes later, all three Blake brothers are gone. Ryder's coffee is barely touched, but the twenty-dollar bill under his saucer is crisp and new.
I pocket it with a sigh. Another thrilling interaction for the books.
Two hours later, the diner's clearing out as news of the approaching storm spreads. The sky outside has turned an ominous gray, and the wind is picking up, rattling the old sign above the door.
“Want to close early?” Henry says, watching leaves skitter past the window. “This is comin’ in faster than they said.”
I nod, already untying my apron.
“You still plannin’ to check that cabin?”
“I have to. It'll be quick… just secure the shutters and make sure the roof patch is holding.”
Henry frowns. “Don't like it, Frankie. Mountains get dangerous fast in weather like this.”
“I'll be in and out,” I promise. “Home before dark.”
Thirty minutes later, the sky has darkened to a threatening slate. The first fat raindrops begin to fall as I climb into my old Subaru and head for the mountain road.
The sensible thing would be to turn around, to wait until after the storm passes. But the last leak nearly ruined the whole cabin. I can't risk losing what little I have left of her.
As I turn onto the winding mountain road, the rain intensifies, drumming against the roof of my car. Wind bends the trees along the roadside, and a strange greenish light filters through the clouds.
A voice that sounds suspiciously like Ryder's echoes in my head. Be safe today. On the mountain.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and press on, hoping I haven't just made a very dangerous mistake.