Chapter 11
Nate
It had been almost a week since I kissed Eliza on her porch, and I still hadn’t figured out how to think straight around her.
Every time her name popped up on my phone, my stomach did that weird little drop that made me feel like a teenager again.
Our texts had turned flirty—soft banter, quiet check-ins, the occasional emoji that said more than either of us wanted to admit out loud.
This morning, I wasn’t working a breakfast shift, and Tilly was happily settled at school, after a drop-off drive filled with chattering about construction paper hearts and glitter glue.
Grandma and Grandpa were on Lois duty for the day, which meant I had exactly one window to swing by the Coffee Cabin and see Eliza in person—without a four-year-old running interference.
The winter air was crisp, the sun spilling pale light over the town, making the snow piles glitter.
There was a nervous energy thrumming in my veins as I parked outside the Coffee Cabin.
I caught my reflection in the car window—hair a little messy and in need of a trim, shirt maybe not as crisp as it could be, but my grin was impossible to hide.
I took a deep breath, trying to play it cool while my heart beat faster than it had in ages.
The place was already busy, the drive-thru was packed, and the walk-up window was seeing a steady stream. Still, Eliza was all I could focus on.
She was behind the window in a burnt orange sweater under her apron, hair up in one of those messy knots that made me think about how easily it would come undone.
She moved fast—efficient, focused—but every so often she paused to laugh with a customer or shoot a sarcastic grin at someone she knew.
Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
The guy in front of the line nearly forgot to grab his latte because he was too busy staring.
I almost told him to keep walking and stop staring.
Bypassing the line, I stepped up to the window. She saw me and gave me a look that made my pulse jump. Not a smile exactly—but something warmer. Quieter. Like maybe she’d been waiting for me. “I’m just saying hi,” I assured everyone in line.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “Thought you were avoiding me.”
I leaned an elbow on the counter. “Nah. Just working. You know, trying to make sure the town has pancakes and pie and all that.”
Her mouth curved. “I’d hate to get in the way of your civic duty.”
“I missed seeing you.” The words came out easier than I expected. “I figured I’d try my luck this morning. Maybe get some coffee, see a pretty girl. Start my day off right.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away. “Flattery before caffeine? Bold move.”
I grinned. “It’s part of my charm. Anyway, I’m going to get to the end of the line before I cause a riot.”
Before she could answer, a familiar voice cut through the moment.
“Eliza.”
Graham.
I hadn’t even seen him walk up, but there he was—hands in his pockets, hair perfect, jacket expensive-looking and tailored within an inch of its life.
Eliza stiffened as I stepped into line, not wanting to start anything with him.
“Morning,” she said, a little too bright. “Didn’t expect you.”
He stepped up to the walk-up window without a care, as if there wasn’t an entire line of people waiting for coffee. “Thought I’d grab a cappuccino and let you know we’re finishing the trim work today. The grand opening is imminent, and you will be invited.”
“That’s fast,” Eliza said, glancing pointedly at the crowd of customers. “Congrats.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at her, totally ignoring everyone. “You’ll come, won’t you? I want you to see what I’ve built. Maybe even give me some notes.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Eliza replied, a little too smoothly. Her voice held enough hesitation that I caught it—and apparently, so did Graham.
“I’m serious, Eliza,” he added. “I’ve got something special planned for opening night. The mayor’s coming. The chamber of commerce. It’s going to be big.”
Someone behind us in line cleared their throat loudly. I turned just enough to see an older woman elbowing her husband.
“I thought she was seeing Hot Diner Dad. Are they fighting over her?” she whispered. Not quietly.
“I saw them together in the park. With her cats,” someone added.
“We did too,” the husband muttered. “He’s Joyce and Winston’s grandson. Good folks.” He turned to me. “You’re a good boy. We love the Pennywhistle. You’re doing a great job.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, turning red as I contemplated running off into the distance, but Graham’s presence kept me where I was.
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Graham came back to town too big for his britches. Like he doesn’t have to wait in line like the rest of us. Team Diner Dad.”
There was a tense pause, the kind that made the whole crowd lean in a little closer. Even the hiss of the espresso machine seemed to quiet down, as if everyone was caught in the undercurrent of their exchange.
I shifted my weight and ducked my head, pretending I was somewhere else, anywhere else.
Graham flicked his eyes toward them, clearly annoyed, but said nothing.
“Yeah, I know you can hear me,” she huffed when she caught Graham looking at her. “I’m friends with your grandma, Graham. Mrs. Woods, remember me? You used to tag along with her when we played cards.”
I looked at Eliza again. Her cheeks were pink—not from the cold. She looked pissed.
“If you want coffee, you’ll have to get in line like everyone else,” Eliza informed him, her tone flat and clipped, eyes already back on the espresso machine.
Graham slid onto a stool at the counter anyway. “I can wait until it clears.”
From where I stood in line, I watched Eliza’s jaw tighten. She didn’t look at him this time. “Suit yourself,” she said, already calling out the next order, like he was a problem she’d decided not to engage with.
He sniffed and sat on a stool.
I didn’t say anything. Not yet. I stood there, waiting my turn, watching her work, letting Graham sit there and stew in whatever weird little power move he thought he was making.
After another minute, Graham finally turned toward me, flashing that effortless smile that probably made investors hand over blank checks. “Pennywhistle’s looking good. Still planning to compete in the Taste-Off?”
“I am.” I gave him a steady look. “You?”
“Of course. Got a little surprise planned.” He winked at Eliza. “And some high expectations.”
“He always did like attention,” Mrs. Woods announced behind us, her voice steady.
His smile didn’t falter, but something flickered behind his eyes. “Good thing I’m excellent at delivering,” he shot back, smiling at her as if he had a chance to charm away her hostility.
“Right.”
The whispering behind us hit a fresh high.
“Is she dating them both?”
“God, I hope so. This is better than Days of Our Lives.”
Eliza didn’t even blink. She slammed a to-go lid on a cup and leaned one forearm against the walk-up window.
“No,” she said, voice flat as yesterday’s drip coffee.
“I’m not dating anyone. Not him. Not the other him.
” She pointed at me. “Not your cousin Steve. Not even myself at this point.” She raised an eyebrow, “But if I ever do decide to date someone—let alone two someones—you’ll know, because I’ll stop looking like I sleep in cat hair and maybe start wearing more makeup. Anything else?”
A few nervous laughs.
One person backed up a step.
“Didn’t think so.” She nodded once, all business.
From my spot in line, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
God, she was incredible. Sharp and funny and done with the nonsense in a way that didn’t invite debate.
The air shifted around her—laughter dying off, curiosity retreating—and I felt an unexpected swell of pride that had nothing to do with being involved and everything to do with watching her take her space back.
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t joke. Didn’t jump in to defend her, even though part of me wanted to.
She didn’t need backup right now—she needed the circus to move on.
I could tell she hated being a spectacle, hated having her life treated like entertainment.
So I stayed where I was, quiet and steady, hoping she could feel the support without it turning into one more thing she had to manage.
Someone inhaled sharply.
Someone else snorted.
She handed over a cappuccino to the next person in line with a polite little nod that completely mismatched her words.
“So, unless one of you is here to tip generously, or contribute something useful to society, maybe stop speculating about my love life like it’s your morning soap opera.
Days of our Lives, my ass,” she muttered.
She turned, started making the next order, and lobbed a dish towel onto the counter behind her.
Someone let out an actual cackle.
Graham didn’t laugh. I did.
Because damn.
His jaw tensed, his arms folding across his chest like he was trying to make himself look broader.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” he said flatly. “Busy morning.”
“Oh, you know me,” Eliza said, flashing him a grin so sharp it could slice bread. “Always juggling something. Muffins, espresso, men, apparently...”
A customer in a puffer vest murmured, “She’s better than Netflix,” to her friend as she took her drink and backed away, eyes still on the drama like she didn’t want to miss the season finale.
I was trying not to laugh—and failing. Eliza’s mouth was pure fire, and I wanted to kiss it. Instead, I kept quiet and waited, because I knew her well enough by now to know she wasn’t done.
Graham’s eyes flicked to me, then back to her. “Anyway,” he said, “if you ever want to come by the restaurant before the grand opening, I’d be happy to give you a preview. Walk you through the kitchen, let you see how much has changed since Portland.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hmm. Tempting. But I’m pretty busy here.”