Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cooper
The Coffee Cove buzzed around me, the low hum of conversation blending with the familiar hiss of the espresso machine.
A day had passed since I’d awakened in Jack’s arms, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how right it had felt—the weight of his body against mine, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way he’d held me even in sleep.
Something had shifted between us since then, a heightened awareness that followed us through our daily interactions.
When he'd grabbed his regular order yesterday, our fingers had brushed during the handoff, and Jack's smile had been just for him.
The air between us felt electric with possibility, and all I wanted was to get him alone again—away from the curious eyes of the town.
I wanted to explore this new closeness, to see where it might lead us again.
I wiped down the pickup counter. Jessica worked with me, her movements efficient as she organized the pastry case.
My gaze drifted repeatedly to the door as I watched for Jack.
He’d texted earlier saying he was coming in for lunch, and my stomach had been doing flips ever since.
The bell above the door jingled, and my head snapped up.
Jack stood in the doorway. Our gazes locked across the busy shop, and something warm uncurled in my chest like steam rising from a freshly brewed cup.
This reaction to Jack was becoming alarmingly familiar: the way my pulse quickened whenever he looked at me, the heat that pooled low in my gut, the anticipation that made rational thought nearly impossible.
Each time it happened, the pull grew stronger, harder to dismiss as mere physical chemistry.
My body was learning to respond to him in ways that felt dangerously real, dangerously permanent.
He joined the line, patiently waiting his turn despite my instinct to wave him to the front. Jack always played fair—one of the many qualities I admired in him.
When he finally reached the counter, his smile brightened the day. “Hey,” he said casually, as if we hadn’t spent the other evening with our tongues in each other’s mouths.
“Hey yourself,” I replied. Movement caught my eye.
He held up a small terracotta pot with both hands like he was presenting some kind of sacred offering. “I brought something for you,” he said, and the way he said it—half-joking but with an underlying sincerity that made my heart squeeze—nearly undid me right there behind the counter.
“Boyfriend Starter Pack,” I read aloud from the handwritten label, squinting at the tiny green sapling poking up from the soil. My heart did a ridiculous little skip as I looked back up at Jack’s face, which had gone slightly pink around the ears.
I took the pot from him, our fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
“A boyfriend starter pack, huh?” I tried to keep my voice steady while my insides cartwheeled.
“Does this come with instructions, or do I just water it and hope for the best?” The laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep in my gut felt foreign after the stress of the morning’s rush, but Jack’s answering smile made everything else fade into background noise.
“Thank you,” I said, touched beyond reason.
Without hesitation, I turned and placed the little pot in a place of honor on the shelf behind the counter, right between the bags of coffee beans and the stack of ceramic mugs, where every customer could see it.
It looked perfect there. When I turned back to Jack, I was grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Alright, boyfriend,” I said, “what can I get you? And don’t even think about reaching for your wallet—this one’s on the house.
” I reached for a large cup. “Americano and…?”
He peered into the sandwich case. “I’ll take the tomato and mozzarella on focaccia today.”
“You got it.”
Jack took his lunch to go, and I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face.
He caught it anyway, of course, his fingers brushing mine as he took the bag—a brief touch that felt like an apology and a promise wrapped together.
But he had a project with a strict deadline breathing down his neck, and I had the lunch rush on my hands. We both had work to do.
I was mid-pour on a caramel macchiato when the bell above the door jingled. I glanced up, and my stomach twisted at the sight of Martin striding toward the counter, phone clutched in his hand like a weapon.
“I’m surprised,” he said loudly enough for half the shop to hear, “you’re still open.”
I finished the pour with careful precision and refused to let him rattle me. “Here for some better coffee, Martin? What can I get you?”
He ignored the question and shoved his phone under my nose. On the screen was a blurry but unmistakable image: an official-looking Health Inspection Report, posted anonymously on the town’s community chat page.
Health Code Violation: Improper Food Storage at The Coffee Cove.
“No wonder your staff was sick.” Martin’s raised voice dripped with mock sympathy. “Seems you can’t even store your milk properly.”
A hush fell over the shop. Customers at nearby tables turned their heads to tune into the conversation. Jessica froze at the register.
“That’s fake,” I said, my voice tight but steady. “There was no recent inspection. No violation.”
Martin raised an eyebrow, all smug innocence. “Really? Because it looks pretty official to me.”
“It’s a counterfeit. If it was real, by law I’d have to hang it on the wall.” I wiped my hands on a towel and met his gaze head-on. “Anyone can fake a report and post it anonymously.”
Martin’s smile turned predatory as he pocketed his phone.
“Fake or not, people are going to see this and wonder what else you’re hiding.
Bad publicity spreads faster than good news in a small town like this.
” He gestured around the shop with theatrical concern.
“This kind of thing is terrible for business, McKay. Your customers are going to start questioning everything: the cleanliness, the quality, whether they can trust what they’re putting in their mouths. ”
His voice carried just enough false sympathy to make my skin crawl.
“When word gets around about health violations, people are going to look for somewhere safer to get their coffee.” Martin straightened his jacket with obvious satisfaction.
“Lucky for them, my shop will be ready to pick up the slack.”
I leaned across the counter and dropped my voice to a growl that vibrated with every ounce of anger coiling inside me. “Get. Out.”
Martin held up his hands, mock surrender in every line of his posture. But the damage was done.
The bell above the door jangled again as he sauntered out and left a trail of suspicion in his wake.
Whispers ignited like dry brush behind him. Customers glanced at each other, some checking their phones, others sliding uneasy looks toward the counter where I stood. My heart pounded.
Jessica moved to my side, her face pale. “Coop…”
“I know.” I pulled my phone from my apron pocket with shaking hands. My first instinct—my only instinct—was to text Jack.
Got a problem. Need you.
He answered within seconds, but the news wasn’t good.
Shit. On a deadline. Client waiting. Be there as soon as I can.
My gut tightened. I braced a hand against the counter and forced myself to breathe. Hold it together, Cooper.
Jessica gave me a worried look. “What should we do?”
“Business as usual,” I said grimly. “Keep moving.”
The next customer hesitated at the counter, then ordered a cappuccino with a clipped tone that stung more than I wanted to admit.
Hours crawled by as I paced behind the counter and waited for Jack to arrive.
Every muscle in my body felt coiled tight with worry about the false health inspection report, and I kept checking the time, then checking it again.
I wasn’t used to Jack being unavailable when I needed him—he’d always been there at the drop of a hat—but I reminded myself that he had a job to do, responsibilities he couldn’t drop just because I was spiraling.
When Jack finally rushed through the door, breathless and apologetic, the relief that flooded through me was so intense I nearly sagged against the espresso machine.
“I’m so sorry.” His gaze roamed my face, his eyebrows scrunched in concern. “What’s wrong?”
I handed over my phone and told him about Martin’s visit.
Jack scanned the post, and his jaw tightened. “This looks good. Too good. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
He pulled out his own phone and tapped rapidly. “I’m contacting the site admin. I’ll explain what’s happening.”
It took ten minutes of furious arguing on Jack’s end—he switched from texting to an actual call halfway through—but finally, finally, he shoved his phone into his pocket.
“They’re pulling it down,” he said. “I had to threaten legal action, but they’re removing it.”
“It’s already too late,” I said quietly. “People saw it.”
Jack’s mouth tightened. “I know.”
“Thank you for getting it taken down, though.” I meant it with every fiber of my being.
He nodded, and his eyes softened as he looked at me. “This isn’t over.”
“I know that, too.” I wiped down the counter with mechanical precision. “Gossip will spread. Martin will make sure of it.”
Jack leaned closer and dropped his voice so only I could hear. “Cooper, whoever posted that? They’re not just trying to hurt your business. They’re trying to sabotage you.”
A cold knot twisted in my stomach. “The hacker.”
Jack nodded grimly.
“Could it have been Martin? Ben?”
“Could have been one of them. Or someone we haven’t considered yet.”
“But why?” The words tore from me, raw and bewildered. “Why go to all this trouble just to destroy The Coffee Cove?”
Jack shook his head, his jaw tense. “Business rivalry? Jealousy? I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
I stared at him, overwhelmed by gratitude and a deeper, more dangerous feeling I couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. Jack was my anchor in the middle of this gathering storm, the only solid thing I had to hold on to.
But as the weight of everything crashed down on me—the relentless attacks, the threat to my business, the constant fear that had become my daily companion—a darker thought crept in.
Did Jack think that being my boyfriend meant signing up to deal with problems that weren’t his to solve?
Was I asking too much of him, dragging him into a mess that could destroy everything I’d worked for?
The thought tightened my chest like a vise. Maybe I was too much trouble, too complicated, too damaged. Jack had his own life, his own career, his own problems to worry about.
Self-doubt threatened to pull me under. But then Jack offered me a small smile that was both reassuring and resolute, and something shifted inside me.
No. I wasn’t going to let fear and insecurity destroy our temporary bargain. Jack was here because he chose to be here. And if he was willing to fight for me, then I was willing to fight for him.
We needed a break from all this—the cyberattacks, emergency after emergency like the flu and the power outage that had disrupted our lives for days. More than that, our relationship deserved the attention it needed to develop properly, not just stolen moments between crises.
I met Jack’s gaze. “Hey, want to go on an actual date tomorrow night? No emergencies, no hackers, just us. Seacliff Bowl. Seven o’clock.”
Surprise flickered across his features before his mouth spread in a crooked grin. “I’d love that. But you know I’m terrible at bowling.”
“Perfect,” I said, feeling lighter already. “Something I might actually beat you at.”