Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Josy
After Noah leaves, I finally allow myself to take a deep breath, the first since I laid eyes on him.
God, he looked so good today, wearing that signature black T-shirt that molds perfectly to his chest, showing off every inch of his sculpted muscles.
His black pants and work boots only added to his rugged charm, and the black ball cap he had turned backward—it should be illegal to look that good just to go to work.
The second I opened the door and saw him standing there with that infuriatingly beautiful smile, I was thrown off balance.
I should have known Esteban wouldn’t show up and would send Noah in his place.
Esteban can be a pain like that, and it’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do to mess with me.
But if I’m honest with myself, deep down I wanted Noah to be the one who came.
As much as I hate to admit it, there’s something about him that still gets under my skin in a way no one else does.
I can’t stand how easily he flusters me, how his presence alone makes my heart race.
It’s infuriating, really. But at the same time, there’s a part of me that craves it, that craves him.
After all this time, I still feel the same attraction that I have always felt for him.
I hate that he knows it too, that he can see right through my defenses no matter how hard I try to keep him out.
I don’t understand why I can’t move on. Why do I compare every man to Noah?
I’ve never even kissed him. I don’t know what it feels like to run my fingers through his hair, to touch his face, or to feel his lips on mine.
It’s ridiculous, really. I’ve dated, I’ve had fun, but I’ve never felt this pull toward anyone else.
No one else has ever made my heart race the way Noah does, and that’s what makes it so frustrating.
How can someone I’ve never even been with have such a hold on me?
I walk around the empty space, trying to shake off the lingering tension from our encounter.
I can still feel the heat of his gaze, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.
It’s unnerving how easily he can do that, how he can make me feel like I’m losing control.
But I can’t let him get to me. I won’t. This is business, nothing more. I hired him—or rather, Esteban—to renovate this space, and that’s where our relationship ends. I have to keep reminding myself of that, even if every part of me is screaming for more.
I stop in the middle of the room and close my eyes, forcing myself to focus.
This place is going to be amazing when it’s done, and I can’t afford to let Noah’s presence derail my plans.
This is about creating something special, something that’s mine.
I’ve worked too hard to let my feelings for Noah complicate things.
But as I take another deep breath, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’m fighting a losing battle.
Today has been an absolute whirlwind. Violet’s social media campaign offering a free pastry with every coffee has turned my quaint shop into a chaotic carnival.
It’s thrilling, of course, to see so many faces crowding the counter, but I hadn’t anticipated this level of madness.
Edna has been baking nonstop since sunrise, the poor woman resembling a frazzled whirlwind of flour and exhaustion.
As for me? I probably look no better. Every surface of my apron is splattered with some mysterious combination of batter and frosting. My hair, which started the day tucked neatly into a net, has rebelled with curls springing out like they’re auditioning for their own pastry commercial.
Finally, the lunchtime crowd thins, granting us a much-needed breather.
I duck into the restroom, shutting the door behind me, and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.
Oh, Josy. My cheeks are flushed, strands of hair cling to my forehead, and a streak of what looks suspiciously like raspberry filling is smeared across my jaw. Lovely.
I scrub my hands vigorously, fixing my curls into a semblance of order and wiping at the rogue filling. As I smooth my apron, I mutter to myself, “Professionalism, Josy. You own a coffee shop, not a food fight arena.”
Satisfied that I’m somewhat presentable, I open the door and step out and straight into what feels like a brick wall. A warm, solid, very human brick wall.
“Noah,” I hiss, my stomach flipping as I meet his eyes. His hands are on my shoulders, steadying me like I’m some delicate porcelain doll instead of the flustered, flour-covered mess I am.
“Well, hello to you too,” he says, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Rushing somewhere, Josy? Or were you just that excited to see me?”
“Excited? Don’t flatter yourself, you big oaf,” I snap, shaking off his hands. “And could you not stand in the middle of the walkway like a human traffic jam?”
He raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed. But then again, I do love our little chats.”
I fold my arms and glare at him. “You love hearing yourself talk, Noah. Don’t confuse that with me enjoying your company.”
His laugh is low and easy, like he’s having the time of his life. “Oh, come on, Josy. Admit it. I’m a handsome oaf and you’d miss me if I wasn’t around. ”
“Miss you?” I scoff, stepping around him and aiming for the counter. “The only thing I’d miss is the peace and quiet when you are not around. Now, if you don’t mind—”
“Wait,” he interrupts, falling into step beside me. “You didn’t answer my statement.”
“What?” I ask, exasperated.
“Am I a handsome oaf?” His tone is teasing, his grin pure mischief.
I stop dead in my tracks, spinning to face him. “You’re... you’re insufferable, that’s what you are.”
“Insufferably handsome, then?” he counters, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Before I can unleash a scathing reply, someone clears their throat behind us. “Excuse me,” a customer says, irritation dripping from their tone. “Are you two having a soap opera moment, or can I use the restroom?”
Heat floods my face as I stammer, “Sorry! Of course, go right ahead.” I step aside, shooting Noah a glare as his laughter bubbles up.
“I don’t see the problem,” he says, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “I think we make a great team. You flustered, me charming—it’s a perfect balance.”
“Oh, please,” I whisper-shout, taking a deliberate step back from his orbit. “You’re about as charming as a raccoon digging through trash.”
“And yet, you can’t seem to stay away,” he quips, his grin now maddeningly self-assured.
I open my mouth to retort but snap it shut again, deciding he’s not worth the energy.
“Anyway,” Noah says, breaking the tension, “I’ll come by tomorrow, or maybe later today, with the quote for the remodeling. I’ll also explain what I’m planning to do with the place.”
“Fine,” I mutter, trying to sound indifferent, but the truth is that I’m already counting down the minutes until I see him again.
I start to walk away from Noah, heading toward the kitchen, when I hear him say, “Stubborn woman.” I don’t turn around, but a smile creeps onto my face despite my best efforts to hide it.
When I reach the front of the shop, I see Violet wiping down the counter, a knowing smirk plastered on her face.
I take a deep breath and shake my head, muttering under my breath, “Not now.” I stride past her, determined to avoid any teasing, and head straight to the kitchen, where I keep myself busy for the rest of the day.
Hours have passed since my encounter with Noah, yet I’m still buzzing with nervous energy. Edna is getting ready to leave soon, and with all the pastries in the oven, we’re focused on cleaning up the area. The coffee shop is finally quiet, giving me a moment to take a deep, cleansing breath.
“Girl, are you okay?” Edna asks, her voice full of concern.
“Yeah, why?” I respond, trying to sound casual.
“Because you look like your head is in the clouds. I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past few hours, but you’ve been in la-la land,” she says with a raised eyebrow.
“Really? I guess I’ve just been lost in my thoughts,” I admit, though I know exactly what—or rather, who—has been occupying my mind.
“Dear Edna, our Josy here is just in love,” Violet chimes in as she enters the kitchen, her tone teasing.
I shoot her a look that could kill. My eyes narrow, silently warning her not to go any further. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Who’s the lucky guy?” Edna asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
“No one!” I practically yell, cutting her off before Violet can mention Noah’s name. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment, but I refuse to let Violet have the satisfaction of teasing me any further.
Violet chuckles, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Sure, Josy. Whatever you say,” she replies, her smirk growing wider as she walks back to the front of the shop.
I huff in frustration, turning away from them and focusing on wiping down the counter with more force than necessary. “You two are impossible,” I mutter under my breath, but deep down, I know they’re not entirely wrong.
As I scrub the already clean counter, Edna wipes her hands on her apron and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, my girl.”
“Go home and rest, Edna. We’ve been working hard today, and I’d bet anything that your feet are killing you.”
“Oh, you’re right about that,” she says with a tired smile. “I’m going to get Tony to give me a good massage. He can use those big rough hands on me.” Edna waggles her eyebrows, her playful tone making me laugh out loud.