Chapter One
Nora
Six months later
The break room is barely more than a closet—a row of dented lockers along one wall, a coffee maker that never gets cleaned, and a bulletin board layered in old schedules. I’m at my locker, tying my apron behind my back, already in my uniform, when the door swings open without warning.
“Tell me you’re emotionally prepared today,” Freddie says as he steps in, already grinning like he knows something I don’t.
I glance at him over my shoulder, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my stomach tightens. “For what?”
He leans against the lockers, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Your daily dose of danger, obviously. Tall, dark, and looks-like-he-could-ruin-your-life is back.”
My fingers pause on the apron strings for just a second before I force myself to finish the knot like that didn’t affect me. “You say that about every man who walks in here with a jawline.”
Freddie scoffs. “Please. I have standards. That man is not just a jawline. That man is a whole situation.”
I roll my eyes, smoothing the apron down over my hips. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being observant,” he corrects smoothly. “Also, he’s always staring at you.”
That does it. My heart skips, just one quick, traitorous beat. I turn back to my locker before Fred can see anything on my face. “He’s a customer. Customers look at the staff. That’s…normal.”
Freddie lets out a low hum, clearly unconvinced. “Mm. Not like that, sweetheart, and you know it.”
“Freddie.”
“What? I’m serious. It’s intense. If I weren’t so secure in my preferences, I’d be concerned for myself.”
Despite myself, I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I grab my name tag from the shelf and pin it into place. “You’re ridiculous.”
I shut my locker and brush past him toward the door. “Go on, Nora. Your mysterious boyfriend awaits,” he calls after me.
“He’s not my…” I start, but the words die in my throat as I step out onto the café floor.
Because he’s there.
Of course he is.
Sitting in his usual spot in the corner, back to the wall. Like he needs to see everything happening in the room at all times. One arm rests loosely on the table, while the other is draped over the back of the chair like he owns the space without even trying.
He looks exactly the same as every other day. And somehow, it still catches me off guard.
Dark hair, a little too long, falling slightly over his forehead in a way that should look careless but doesn’t. Sharp jaw, shadowed with stubble that makes him look older than he probably is. His shoulders are broad, stretching the fabric of his plain black T-shirt.
And even sitting down, there’s something…solid about him. Grounded. Dangerous in a quiet, controlled way. But it’s his eyes that always get me. Steel gray-blue eyes. The kind that feel like they see right through you. And right now…they’re on me.
My breath stutters for half a second before I force myself to move. I step behind the counter like this is just another shift, just another customer, just another day.
It’s not. It hasn’t been since the first time he walked in here. I didn’t care about men before him. Not really. I mean, I noticed them, sure. I’m not blind. But it was always…distant. Like watching something that didn’t have anything to do with me.
Then he walked in. And suddenly everything felt…closer. Sharper. Too real.
He’s been coming in nearly every day for weeks now. He doesn’t talk at all, but he watches. Always watching. Not in a creepy way. Just…focused. Like I’m something he’s trying to figure out. Freddie thinks it means something. I don’t know what to think.
But I do know one thing. On the days he doesn’t show up, the café feels…off. Quieter. Colder. Like something’s missing. And I hate that I’ve noticed that.
I grab a notepad, even though I already know his order, and walk toward his table, trying to ignore the way my pulse picks up with every step.
“Hi,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “What can I get for you today?”
For a second, he just looks at me. And it feels like everything else in the room fades out.
“Coffee,” he says finally. His voice is low, rough around the edges in a way that sends a little shiver down my spine. “Two sugars.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes my stomach flip.
I glance down at my notepad, even though I’m not writing anything. “And…something to eat?”
“Whatever you recommend.”
I hesitate, then say, “The cinnamon roll is good.”
“Then I’ll have that.”
I nod quickly, scribbling it down just so I have something to do with my hands. “Okay. I’ll bring it right out.”
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me. “Nora.”
I freeze. Slowly turn back. “How do you know my name?” I ask.
His gaze flicks briefly to my chest. To the name tag pinned there. Then back to my eyes. “It’s right there.”
“Oh… right… Of course,” I stutter as my cheeks go warm under his gaze.
I feel stupid. But his amused expression makes me think he knew exactly what he was doing.
“What’s yours?” I ask before I can overthink it.
“Asher.”
The name settles somewhere deep in my chest, like it belongs there.
“Asher,” I repeat softly, testing it.
His eyes darken just slightly at the sound of it. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s me.”
I nod quickly. Suddenly, I’m very aware of myself in a way that feels both new and overwhelming. Then I turn and walk back to the counter before I can make a complete fool of myself. My heart is beating faster than it should.
“Okay, Nora, get it together,” I mutter under my breath as I reach the register.
I grab a cup and start preparing his order. Coffee. Sugar. Cinnamon roll. Easy. Normal. Except nothing about this feels normal anymore.
When it’s done, I pick up the tray and head back to his table. Part dreading, part living for it.
“I’ve got your order,” I say, setting the coffee and plate down in front of him carefully.
“Thanks,” he replies.
I should turn and go. Instead, I hear myself say, “I didn’t picture you as someone who takes sugar in his coffee.”
One of his eyebrows lifts slightly. “No?”
I shake my head, a small, nervous smile tugging at my lips. “You just seem more like…black coffee. No nonsense. Maybe a little intimidating.”
His expression softens, almost looking amused. “Intimidating, huh?”
“A little,” I admit, then quickly add, “In a good way.”
That earns me a real smile this time, small, but enough to completely change his face. It softens the sharp edges.
“I’m full of surprises,” he says.
“I can see that,” I reply, my confidence growing just a little. “So, what else have I gotten wrong about you?”
He leans back slightly in his chair, studying me like I’ve just given him something interesting to think about. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much you’ve been thinking about me.”
My breath catches. Then I let out a small, shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “I work here. I think about all my regular customers.”
“Hmm. I have to assume I’m different,” he says quietly.
There’s no teasing in his voice now. And the way he says it sets my heart racing all over again. I open my mouth, but no words come out. Because he’s right. I swallow the lump sitting in my throat. My thoughts feel tangled. Caught somewhere between embarrassment and something far more dangerous.
“You seem very sure of yourself,” I manage finally, lifting my chin just a little as I meet his gaze.
His lips tilt slightly, making my stomach flip. “I am.”
Silence follows, but it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, it feels…charged. Like something is building between us, something that I’m not sure how—and am too afraid—to name quite yet.
“Order up, Nora. Table three is waiting.”
I turn to see Debby standing near the espresso machine. I frown at her crossed arms. She’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
I turn back to Asher, shifting my weight slightly. Suddenly aware of how long I’ve been standing there. “I should…go,” I say reluctantly.
“Yeah,” he replies.
I hesitate for half a second longer, then turn and walk back to the counter, my pulse still racing. The second I’m out of his direct line of sight, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I look up to find Freddie’s knowing gaze on me.
“Don’t start,” I warn, my lips twitching at his disappointed look.
“At least, tell me what he said to you,” he whines.
I smile, shaking my head at him. “Isn’t your shift over?” I ask.
“Yeah, but I saw you talking to Mr. Dangerous, and I couldn’t stop staring.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, a voice cuts in from behind me. “We are here to work, not chitchat.” It’s Debby.
Then I remember the tray. “I’ve got it,” I say quickly, lifting the tray slightly.
Her eyes flick to it, then back to my face. “You seem…busy.”
“It’s my job,” I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.
She lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Right. Just don’t get distracted. Some customers like to take advantage of that.”
The words land strangely. I blink at her, confused. “I’m not…”
“I’m just saying,” she cuts in, shrugging like it’s nothing. “Guys like him? They’re not looking for anything serious. They come in, flirt a little, have their fun, then move on. Don’t read too much into it.”
I stare at her for a second, caught off guard. Debby and I barely talk. We’ve worked together for weeks, and the most we’ve exchanged is the occasional shift-related comment. So, this warning feels out of place.
“Okay…” I say slowly, unsure how else to respond.
She watches me for another moment, then turns away like the conversation never happened. “Just do your job, Nora.”
I stand there for a second, tray in hand, trying to make sense of what just happened. The whole conversation just seems plain weird.
Freddie leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Ignore her.”
I glance at him.
“She’s projecting,” he says simply. “Debby has a very specific type, and unfortunately for her, your mysterious stranger clearly does not share that preference.”
I blink. “You think she’s…jealous?”
Freddie gives me a look. “Sweetheart, I don’t think so. I know so.” Then he smiles, “Well, I’ll leave you to do your job, and I’ll ask about Mr. Dangerous tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes, walking beside him as he leaves the counter. “He has a name.”
“I’m sticking to Mr. Dangerous,” he replies, then waves at me. “Bye, girl!”
I smile back and head to table three to deliver their order. After the proper apologies, I head back to the counter. I take a breath, steadying myself before looking up. Asher’s eyes lock onto mine instantly. Like he’s been tracking my every movement without even trying.
I glance away quickly. But not before I see him smirk.
My heart thunders in my chest. Hard. I study the shiny countertop like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen, even as my mind wanders back to our conversation.
Asher was surprisingly easy to talk to. His deep, soothing voice still sends me spinning.
I don’t know how to handle the feelings that arise when I’m around him, but I know that Freddie might be right. I think this feeling I have for Asher might be mutual.