Chapter 1 #2
When they reached Blooms Bake Shop, she slowed, gesturing toward the window.
Behind the glass, pastel macarons gleamed like tiny jewels beside decadent chocolate brownies and a towering cone of sugar-dusted doughnuts.
An enticing buttery scent curled through the open door, pulling her in like a welcome she didn’t need.
“This is who we contract with for our pastries,” she said. “Best decision my dad ever made—well, aside from starting the Daily Grind in the first place.”
“I can see why.” His mouth curved faintly. “If I worked here, I’d be in trouble.”
Zoe let one corner of her mouth lift. “Good to know you have a weakness.”
The flicker of amusement in his eyes warmed into something she recognized all too well—interest.
“Most people have a weakness or two,” he said. “Mine happens to be anything made with butter and sugar.”
Despite herself, Zoe tucked that detail away, even as she reminded herself it had no place in this conversation.
“I noticed none of the locations do in-house baking,” he said after a beat, curiosity threading through his tone.
“From the beginning, my dad believed the shops should focus on what they do best, which is coffee.”
He nodded once, listening.
“The pastry options are standardized across locations,” she continued, “but each shop offers one unique item tied to its own community.”
“Why is that?”
“Because no two communities are the same. Each place has flavors and traditions people love, and my dad wanted to honor that.” She’d grown up around the Grind and realized with a faint ripple of surprise just how much she knew. “Here, we offer kouign amann—a local favorite.”
John rolled the syllables slowly, as if tasting them. “Kouign amann. I don’t believe I’ve ever had one.”
“Trust me,” she said, smiling before she could stop herself. “You’re in for a treat.”
For the first time since they’d started walking, she caught something thoughtful, maybe even amused, in his gaze.
“Should I be concerned that you sound this confident?” he asked.
“I’ve never steered anyone wrong when it comes to pastries.”
His laugh was low and rich, curling through her in a way she didn’t appreciate.
This was business. Nothing more.
But as they made their way toward the Daily Grind, the air between them felt…different. The shift was subtle, but she sensed it in the space between steps, in the way his presence pressed at the edges of her focus.
And Zoe had the distinct, unwelcome feeling that keeping John Logan at arm’s length wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.
They were only a block from the coffee shop when the glass doors of the only bank in Good Hope swung open.
“Zoe!”
Her aunt Greer’s voice carried across the sidewalk. With her sleek dark bob and a fitted blazer in cherry red, Greer McConnell looked every inch the bank president she was. Beside her, recognition flashed in her husband’s eyes, and an easy smile lifted his lips.
Zoe’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. “Aunt Greer, Uncle Wyatt.” She smiled as they came closer, focusing on her uncle. “What brings you downtown?”
Though Greer could nearly always be found at the bank, Wyatt spent most of his days outside of town at Cherry Acres, the family’s thousand-acre tart cherry operation.
“Greer’s had a busy week—”
“Quarterly meeting with the board,” Greer said, tucking her arm through her husband’s. “And my wonderful husband, knowing I’d be stressed, came to take me to lunch.”
Her gaze shifted to John, and like her husband, she smiled. “Well, now. It’s been a while.”
Something in John’s posture changed—shoulders relaxing, his mouth curving in a way that was warmer than anything he’d given her all morning. “It has. Good to see you both.”
“How do you know John?” The question slipped out before Zoe could stop it.
“We met him in Austin at your…” Greer paused for half a beat. “At your party.”
Zoe’s chest tightened as she remembered how many relatives had made the trip to Texas for her engagement celebration.
“You were busy making everyone feel welcome,” Wyatt said before turning to John. “This guy and I talked for quite a while about Cherry Acres. Still thinking about expanding our distribution.”
“I’ve got some ideas on how to help you get there,” John said, pulling a card from his pocket. “Let’s connect while I’m in town.”
Greer took the card with a smile that was more than polite—it was approving. “You should. He’s sharp, Wyatt.”
Something in the exchange snagged in Zoe’s chest. She hadn’t realized John had spent that much time with them, much less talking business. The easy camaraderie between them felt…unexpected.
“We should get going,” she said quickly, angling her body down the sidewalk.
John gave Wyatt a parting nod, then fell into step beside her. His long stride matched hers, but she could still feel that faint warmth radiating from him, as if the conversation had left him lighter.
When they reached the next crosswalk, his hand brushed lightly at her elbow, guiding her forward. The touch was brief, almost impersonal, but it sent a pulse of awareness through her all the same.
Zoe kept her eyes forward, ignoring the quiet hum pressing at the edges of her focus.
The last thing she needed was for John Logan to find common ground with the people she loved most.
By the time they reached the Daily Grind, Zoe had fully convinced herself she wasn’t spending another second playing tour guide.
Astrid, with her sunny smile and bottomless enthusiasm for all things coffee, was already behind the counter.
“John, meet Astrid. She’ll get you started.” Zoe didn’t linger to gauge his reaction, just tossed the introduction over her shoulder and ducked into the back with a half-muttered excuse about inventory.
Safe from his steady presence, she pressed her palms to the cool stainless-steel counter and took a slow breath. Two months. She just had to get through the next two months.