Chapter 6 Eliza #2
He looked amused. “You mean the four-year-old and the dog?”
“Exactly. You’re like a package deal. It’s throwing off my whole equilibrium.”
“Lois is with my grandpa. Tilly’s at school. That means you get my full attention.”
My stomach flipped. “Dangerous.”
He leaned a little closer, that easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think you like danger.”
“Mm,” I stuck my straw into my mouth, trying to think of something to say. “I like this milkshake. Don’t get cocky.”
“Oh, I’m already there. You agreed to lunch. I brought you curly fries and a cherry pie milkshake. At this point, I’m just showing off.”
I tried not to look directly at his rolled-up sleeves. Or the way the breeze kept ruffling his dark hair. Or the dimples that appeared when he smiled like that—like he knew exactly how good he looked and wasn’t above using it for evil.
He sipped his Coke, then gave me a sideways glance. “So, how long did it take you to admit to your grandma you were meeting me?”
I groaned. “Ugh. I told her this morning and swore her to secrecy. She practically squealed.” I squinted at him over the rim of my cup. “Wait—how did you even know about my grandma?”
He grinned, feigning innocence. “Small town, remember? Word gets around.”
“Busted,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m honored that you told her. Mine knows too, by the way. She suggested it.”
“Well, I’m supposed to be on my best behavior. She made me promise to wear lip gloss and not say anything too sarcastic.”
“Failing spectacularly on that second one.”
“I know,” I said, deadpan. “You bring out the worst in me.”
He laughed and leaned back on the bench. “I think you might bring out the best in me.”
That shut me up for half a second. He didn’t say it in a flirty way. He just said it. Quietly. Sincerely. Like it was a truth he hadn’t meant to let slip.
I looked away, unsure how to respond. My mouth went dry.
“Anyway,” he said, glancing at his phone, “I should get going. First-day pickup. Marshmallows are required.”
I nodded. “Right. Can’t compete with Pre-K and marshmallows.”
He smirked. “You might surprise me someday.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at my lips. Together, we gathered the empty containers and napkins, stuffing them into the trash bag in companionable silence. It felt surprisingly easy, like we’d done this a hundred times before, even though it was only the first.
“I suspect,” he said with a teasing glance, “that underneath all that sass and sarcasm is a very soft core.”
I blinked at him, caught off guard, and let a small laugh slip out to cover my awkwardness. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned, stepping a fraction closer. “Maybe. But it’s true.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “We’ll see about that.”
He brushed his hands down his jeans. “Well… I really should run. But this was fun.”
“Yeah,” I said, a little breathless, not wanting to admit how much I’d enjoyed it. “It was.”
He gave a small, easy nod. “See you soon?”
I managed a grin. “We’ll see.”
He didn’t leave right away. For a moment, he lingered there, close enough that I could see the way his gaze softened—like he wanted to say something more, or maybe do something more.
The look he gave me made my breath catch; it was full of hope and possibility, and I found myself wishing he wouldn’t go just yet.
I tried to think of something clever to say. Something cool and breezy. What came out was: “Text me later. I mean, if you feel like it.”
He grinned. “Oh, I’ll definitely feel like it.”
Before he turned to leave, he hesitated again, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Then, so gentle it made my heart flutter, he bent and brushed a soft kiss against my forehead.
My cheeks burned, my insides went all syrupy, and I couldn’t stop the tiny smile that crept onto my face.
I told myself it was the moment. Just the way he was—kind, handsome, and impossibly easy to be around. Nothing more.
Then he winked—an actual wink—and strolled off like he hadn’t just rearranged every rational thought in my head.
I watched him go, the path crunching under his boots, the breeze teasing the edge of his jacket.
His warmth lingered at the table, a phantom of sun and spice and cherry pie milkshake.
My fingers itched to check my phone, like maybe he’d already texted even though I know he didn’t.
Like maybe this thing—whatever it was—was real and not just something my heart had invented out of loneliness and milkshake-induced euphoria.
I sighed, grabbed the bagged up trash, chucked it in the can, then started walking back toward the Coffee Cabin.
The town square was mostly quiet now, except for the wind rattling the bare branches and the occasional bark from the dog park.
Winter in Honeybrook Hollow was a peaceful kind of beautiful—gray skies, warm lights in shop windows, and the smell of pine and frost lingering in the air.
I was beginning to understand why my sisters loved it here so much.
I pushed open the back door of the Coffee Cabin and stepped inside to see my grandma at the counter, carefully rearranging the gift card display like it was a high-stakes game of coffee-themed Tetris.
“Well?” she said without looking up. “Did you kiss him?”
“Grandma!”
She turned around with an entirely unrepentant smile. “What? I have a vested interest in your happiness.”
“First of all, you swore secrecy. This was supposed to be a low-key, stealth lunch. No big deal. Not a date. You were sworn to grandma-level secrecy.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. Okay, yeah, I told Joyce. But she already knew, and she can keep a secret, don’t worry.”
“Joyce? Is that Nate’s grandma?” I trailed off, acutely aware that there were hidden threads connecting everyone in Honeybrook Hollow, like roots beneath the frozen ground.
It seemed my grandma’s circle of influence stretched farther than I realized, touching corners of my life I thought were private.
I glanced at her, searching for any hint of mischief in her eyes, but she just grinned at me as if she’d orchestrated my entire life from the time I got into town.
“Yes.”
My mouth dropped open. “Until today, I was unaware you knew his grandma. How well?”
“Of course, I know her; this is a small town.” She waved a hand as if I had asked if she knew how to breathe. “Joyce and I grew up together. We were terrible teenagers, but somehow survived and became very good at meddling in other people’s lives.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh my God. Is nothing sacred in this town?”
My accusation hung in the air between us, but Grandma didn’t even flinch.
If anything, her eyes twinkled brighter.
“Let’s just say, in Honeybrook Hollow, nothing escapes the grandmas.
” She winked conspiratorially. “Especially when it comes to ensuring our favorite people find their happiness.” Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I should be exasperated or grateful for her persistent involvement.
“I mean, someone had to tell Nate that this place had the best coffee and cocoa in town, right?”
“You’re a menace. She is, too. Dang.”
She smiled sweetly. “A helpful menace. And don’t act like you didn’t have a good time. You came back all flushed and dreamy.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
I groaned and slumped against the counter. “Why did I ever tell you?”
“Because you love me and I love you and I gave you this entire Coffee Cabin to run to make you stay in town with your family where you belong, duh.”
She handed me a fresh cup of tea without asking if I wanted it, steam curling up to warm my cheeks.
I accepted it with a sigh and took a sip.
She seemed to always know what I needed.
Maybe what I really need to do is believe in this.
This place, this family, this life I was so afraid to let myself sink into.
“Just… don’t say anything, okay?” I muttered. “It’s not a big deal. It was lunch, that’s it. And I don’t know what it is yet. He’s nice. I like him. I don’t need a parade.”
“Fine. No parade.” She paused. “How about a very small marching band?”
“Grandma!”
She laughed, and I couldn’t help it—I laughed too.
Maybe I’d made a mistake telling her. But as I stood there, sipping her delicious tea and letting the warmth chase off the last of the cold, I also couldn’t deny this tiny spark in my chest. A flicker of something that felt suspiciously like hope.
Which, honestly, was far more terrifying than any marching band or parade could ever be.