Chapter Two
From: “Father” of the Year
Samyah, we will need to reschedule dinner.
A work thing came up. Text me back, please.
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Maggie had left them with a warning and a set of keys.
“Bank run,” she said, already halfway out the door, purse slung over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on top of her red hair like a crown. “I’ll be gone maybe thirty minutes. Forty if the teller tries to flirt with me again. Kaylee, don’t break anything. Myah–”
Myah snapped a salute. “I make no promises.”
Maggie snorted, used to Myah’s sass, before she pointed at the sign posted in no fewer than three places around the stand. “Drive-up only. You see a city inspector, you didn’t see me.”
Kaylee and Myah chorused, “Yes, Mom.”
Maggie rolled her baby blue eyes in exasperation but was smiling as she stepped away, the bell on the side door jingling softly behind her.
Maggie had hired Myah right out of high school. While Myah was ornery, short tempered and lacked far too many people skills, Maggie still hired her and she had stayed ever since. There was loyalty there. It’d been six years at the stand, and these girls were practically Myah’s family now.
The stand felt different the second Maggie was gone.
Not quieter. The traffic still hummed and espresso machines still hissed, but the atmosphere was, looser.
Like the rules had stretched just a little.
Like the air itself had gone permissive.
Which meant that Myah had more time to think. To breathe.
She glanced down at her phone and busied herself with her routine. Her dad had cancelled several dinners growing up, so really she shouldn't be surprised he had done it again…maybe just disappointed?
Hours passed by fast in the stand because of its chaotic nature. She usually liked it. She liked the familiarity of making the same things over and over. She liked her regulars. Some of them, she liked maybe too much.
Myah leaned against the counter, watching dust mites spin in a shaft of late-morning light, and told herself she was not watching him leave.
That she didnt notice as Jace stepped back from the counter, hands curling around his paper cup like it might drift away if he loosened his grip.
As he nodded his soft, almost apologetic goodbye.
Or as he turned and walked toward the sidewalk instead of a car, like every sign posted within a ten-foot radius instructed customers to do.
Not watching, she thought firmly.
She absolutely watched him leave.
She watched the way he hesitated at the edge of the curb, like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to exist there without permission.
The way he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag even though it sat perfectly fine on his broad shoulder.
The way he glanced back once toward the stand, like he might have forgotten something important. Like maybe he’d forgotten her.
Myah leaned an elbow against the counter and pretended to wipe down a surface that was already spotless. She tracked him with her peripheral vision until he disappeared past the corner of the building, swallowed up by brick and ivy and the low hum of late-morning traffic.
Only then did she exhale.
“Wow.”
Myah didn’t jump. She never jumped. Jumping was for people who were surprised by the predictable consequences of staring after a cute regular like they’d just watched the final scene of a tragic romance.
She did, however, roll her eyes slowly and with purpose. “Don’t start,” she said.
Kaylee grinned from the espresso machine, all teeth and mischief and the unmistakable glow of someone who had just witnessed something deeply entertaining. She leaned her hip against the counter, arms crossed, ponytail swinging like it was in on the joke.
“Oh, I’m starting,” Kaylee said. “I’ve already started. I started the second Walk-Up Guy smiled at you like you’d personally invented coffee.”
Myah snorted. “That is not what that was.”
“Uh-huh.” Kaylee raised an eyebrow. “You watched him walk away like he was the last helicopter out of a disaster zone.”
Myah grabbed a stack of cups and shoved them into their holder with more force than strictly necessary. “You are SO dramatic. A helicopter? Kaylee, I was making sure he didn’t trip.”
Kaylee gasped. “You’re right. Thank God you joined our safety committee. Maggie would be so proud. You are doing a great job of keeping Walk-Up guy safe, even though he’s the one breaking the rules by not being in a car like a normal person.”
Myah shot her a look. “He’s not–” She stopped herself, frowned. “He’s not Walk-Up Guy.”
“Oh?” Kaylee perked up. “You named him?”
“No,” Myah said quickly. “I mean. Not like that. I just know his name.”
Kaylee’s grin widened into something dangerous. “You know his name.”
Myah pointed a finger at her. “We know a lot of people’s names. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Kaylee hummed. “Does it mean something that you remembered it after one conversation?”
Myah opened her mouth, closed it, then pivoted strategies. “He comes here every day.”
“And?”
“And I literally have his order memorized. That’s a customer service skill. I am a great barista.”
Kaylee tapped her chin. “And the way your voice went softer when you spoke to him?”
“That is also customer service. Again, a great barista.”
“Sure is,” Kaylee said. “Very…tender.”
Myah groaned and turned toward the sink, running water she didn’t need just to have something to do with her hands. Her reflection in the stainless steel stared back at her, eyes bright, mouth tilted.
She did not have a crush on Jace. That would be ridiculous.
He was quiet. Painfully quiet. The kind of quiet that made people lean in without realizing they were doing it.
The kind that filled space instead of shrinking from it.
And okay, yes, his politeness was…aggressive.
Disarming. He said please like he meant it, like he’d practiced it in the mirror.
He thanked her like she’d done him a favor instead of just handed him a drink she was being paid to make.
It was annoying. Extremely annoying. But…also adorable.
“And,” Kaylee continued, undeterred, “he’s definitely not allowed to walk up.”
Myah stiffened. “I know that.”
“There’s literally a sign.”
“I can read.”
“Big sign,” Kaylee said. “Bright letters. Drive-Up Only.”
“I know,” Myah snapped, then sighed. “I know.”
She did know. That was part of the problem. The stand was a drive-up for a reason–traffic flow, safety, the city’s weird zoning rules. People weren’t supposed to just wander up on foot like it was a neighborhood lemonade stand.
Except Jace did. He always did. He’d shown up one morning with that tentative half-smile and asked, very politely, if it was okay. He lived nearby, he said. He didn’t have a car. He didn’t want to cause trouble.
Also, Jace was built. Muscles on muscles, he was practically a car of a person. If a person was a car? He could carry passengers for sure. Carry passengers? Carry me, anytime. Where was this train of thought headed? Anyways…
Myah had glanced at the empty street. At the complete lack of managerial supervision, and at the way he’d already looked halfway prepared to apologize for existing.
And she’d said yes.
She told herself it was because he was quiet. Because he didn’t block traffic. Because he stood off to the side like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.
She did not tell herself it was because he looked relieved in a way that made her chest ache.
“Rules are rules,” Kaylee said now, sing-song.
“Rules have exceptions.”
Kaylee smirked. “Oh, they do?”
Myah turned, pointed at the curb. “He stands there. He’s out of the way. He’s polite. He tips.”
“He tips?” Kaylee clutched her heart. “Say no more.”
“And,” Myah added, “he’s not loud.”
Kaylee blinked. “Is that a requirement now?”
“Yes,” Myah said seriously. “Loud people are exhausting. Quiet people are…manageable.”
Kaylee studied her. “You think he’s cute. Hunky even.”
Myah scoffed. “I think he’s tolerable.”
“Liar.”
Myah rinsed her hands and grabbed a towel. “Even if I did, which I don’t, it wouldn’t matter.”
“Oh?”
“He would never ask me out.”
Kaylee’s eyes lit up. “There it is.”
Myah frowned. “What?”
“That,” Kaylee said, pointing at her, “was not denial. That was resignation.”
Myah opened her mouth to argue, then paused because that part was true. Jace would never ask her out. He barely spoke above a murmur. He ordered like he was afraid of inconveniencing the universe. He smiled like it was something he rationed carefully.
Guys like that didn’t flirt. Guys like that didn’t ask out girls who wore mismatched earrings on purpose and had a rotating collection of novelty socks or once tried to convince a customer that oat milk was made like cow milk just because the customer annoyed her.
Myah was good at flirting. She knew that. She was bold and playful and a little ridiculous. She leaned into eye contact. She knew how to make people laugh.
Jace looked like the kind of guy who would short-circuit if she winked at him too hard.
“You’ll never get Walk-Up Guy to go out with you,” Kaylee said lightly.
The words landed between them. Myah felt something spark. A flicker in her chest.
She turned slowly. “What did you say?”
Kaylee’s smile sharpened. “You heard me.”
Myah laughed. A bright, easy sound. “Please.”
“Please what?” Kaylee knew what she was doing. Myah had a hard time saying no to any dare, especially ones that involved muscular, dark haired men.
“Please,” Myah said, “I could get him to go out with me if I wanted to.”
Kaylee crossed her arms. “You absolutely could not.”
“Oh my god,” Myah said. “You underestimate me.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“No, you’re being rude.”
Kaylee shrugged. “He’s shy.”
“So?”
“So,” Kaylee said, “he’s not going to make the first move. And you’re not actually going to try.”
Myah tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because,” Kaylee said, “you like the fantasy more than the follow-through.”
That… annoyed her.
Myah planted her hands on the counter and leaned forward. “You wanna bet?”
Kaylee’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Fine,” Myah said. “I’ll flirt. I’ll ask him out, casually. For fun.”
“For fun,” Kaylee echoed with a grin.
“Low stakes,” Myah said. “No pressure. Just vibes.”
Kaylee nodded. “Okay.”
“If I get him to say yes,” Myah continued, “You cover my next three shifts.”
Kaylee whistled. “Bold.”
“And if I don’t,” Myah said, “I’ll–” She paused, thinking. “I’ll wear the stupid apron with the pun on it for a week.”
Kaylee gasped. “The ‘Espresso Yourself’ one?”
“That’s the one.”
Kaylee stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
Myah grinned, adrenaline buzzing and took Kaylee’s hand in hers. “This is going to be easy.”
Kaylee laughed. “Sure it is.”
The rest of the shift passed in a blur of orders and foam and the familiar rhythm of the stand. Myah joked with customers, danced to the radio when no one was watching, and balanced a pen on her nose during slow moments.
But her thoughts kept circling back to the way Jace had smiled when she handed him his drink. To the way he’d lingered like he wanted to say something else. To the fact that she’d watched him walk away longer than necessary.
She told herself the bet was just fun. She was good at this. It wasn’t serious. But when the stand quieted and the afternoon light slanted just right, she found herself glancing toward the corner again.
Not watching. Definitely not watching.