Chapter 2
Mac
Sophie's Café sat on the corner of Main Street and Oak, warm light spilling from its windows despite the overcast March morning. Mac pushed open the door, and the scent of fresh coffee and baked goods immediately wrapped around him like a hug.
Sophie Parker stood behind the counter, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, moving with the grace of someone who'd been running this café for five years. She looked up when Mac entered, and her face broke into a knowing smile.
"MacKenzie!" She set down the espresso cup she'd been wiping. "What brings you in? Coffee? Your usual blueberry muffin?"
"Flowers, actually. You have flowers, right?"
"I do." Sophie gestured to the small cooler near the register where she kept fresh bouquets. Her smile widened. "Special occasion?"
"I'm asking someone out."
"Finally! Rachel Morrison?"
Mac stared at her. "Does the entire town know?"
"It's Evergreen Cove, Mac. Everyone knows everything." Sophie came around the counter, pulling out several bouquets for his inspection. "And yes, before you ask, we're all rooting for you. Rachel deserves someone good, and you're good people."
"No pressure then," Mac muttered.
Sophie laughed. "So what are you thinking? Budget?"
"I don't care about budget. I want something... impressive. Pretty. Romantic. Does that make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense." Sophie's hands moved quickly, pulling flowers from different bouquets, soft pink tulips, cheerful yellow daisies, deep red roses, sprigs of baby's breath and greenery. Within minutes, she'd assembled something beautiful. "This?"
Mac studied the arrangement. "Can you add sunflowers?"
Sophie raised an eyebrow but complied.
"Like a lot. The tall ones?"
"Mac—"
"I want it to be special."
Sophie added, and the bouquet grew substantially. "Okay, this is getting pretty big—"
"Is it too big?" Mac asked, suddenly worried.
"Well—"
"Because I want her to know I'm serious. Can you add more?"
"Mac, honey, it's already enormous—"
"But is it impressive enormous or just... enormous enormous?"
Sophie sighed, but she was smiling as she added more sunflowers that definitely didn’t fit the bouquet anymore. The bouquet was now massive. Like, carry-it-with-two-hands-and-possibly-need-help enormous. Sophie stepped back, surveying her creation. "Mac, this is a lot of flowers."
"Is it too much?"
"It's... enthusiastic." She smiled.
"How much?"
Sophie rang him up, but before handing over the bouquet, she paused. Her expression turned serious. "Mac? Rachel's great. She's kind and smart, and she's been through some stuff. So if you're doing this, make sure you mean it. Don't ask her out if you're not serious."
"I'm serious," Mac said, meeting her eyes.
"Good." Sophie's smile returned as she handed him the massive bouquet. "Then good luck."
"Right…Yes… Luck?"
"Go, already! And report back. Ellie and I want details."
Mac walked down Main Street holding the enormous bouquet, acutely aware of every person who passed him. Mrs. Williams from the grocery store gave him two thumbs up. Rodney Stanton from the hardware store wolf-whistled. Even cranky Old Joe at the gas station cracked a smile.
His heart hammered against his ribs. His palms were sweating despite the cold March air that still had the bite of winter in it. This was it. He was really doing this.
The library came into view; a small brick building with classic architecture, the kind of place that looked exactly like a library should look. Mac had been coming here for months, slowly working his way through the mystery section, and absolutely not using it as an excuse to see Rachel.
Okay, mostly using it as an excuse to see Rachel.
He pushed open the door. The familiar bell chimed.
Rachel Morrison stood at the circulation desk, her chestnut hair pulled back in a neat bun, reading glasses perched on her nose as she studied something on her computer. She looked up when Mac approached, and he nearly forgot how to speak.
She was beautiful. Like, stop-your-heart, forget-your-name beautiful. Her brown eyes were intelligent and warm, her face delicate but strong, and when she looked at him, Mac felt like the rest of the world went quiet.
"Can I help?" She tilted her head.
"Hi. I'm Mac. I mean, Ryan MacKenzie. Everyone calls me Mac. I play hockey. For the Eagles. The team. The local team. Not NHL, only local, which is fine. I like it here, it's great." The words tumbled out in a rush, and Mac wanted to sink through the floor.
"I can see that." Her lips tilted upward, maybe with amusement, maybe with pity, Mac couldn't tell. "I know you, you know? You come here. A lot."
Relief flooded through him. She knew him. She'd noticed him. That was something. "Yes, yes, of course, stupid me." Mac thrust the flowers forward like he was presenting evidence in court. "These are for you."
Rachel looked at the flowers, then at him, her expression unreadable. "Why?"
"Because you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you out but I'm terrible at this and my best friend Cole told me to be honest, so I'm being honest, and these are for you, and would you maybe want to get coffee sometime?" The entire sentence came out in one breath. Mac was pretty sure he was dying.
Rachel took the flowers carefully, setting them on the desk. Her fingers brushed the petals. "You're friends with Cole Hansen."
"I am. He's my best friend."
"He seems nice. Ellie definitely is."
"They are. Both of them. Great people. And we all are. Nice, I mean. Especially me. I'm very nice." Mac was sweating now. He was making this worse. He was definitely making this worse.
"Are you?" Rachel's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes.
"I could be. I am. I would be. If you gave me a chance.
" He gripped the edge of her desk to keep from fidgeting.
"Rachel, I've been wanting to ask you out for weeks.
And I know this is probably weird, getting flowers from some guy you barely know, but I think you're amazing, and I'd really like to take you to coffee.
Or lunch. Or dinner. Whatever you're comfortable with.
No pressure. But I had to ask because if I didn't, I'd regret it forever, and Cole says I need to stop overthinking things, and—" He forced himself to stop talking. "I'm doing it again. Talking too much."
Rachel studied him for a long moment. Mac held his breath, trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen or embarrassment or both.
"Okay."
Mac's brain short-circuited. "Okay?"
"Coffee, tomorrow, at Sophie’s. Two PM."
Mac's face split into a grin so wide it hurt. His heart was doing something difficult in his chest, somersaults maybe, or backflips. "I won't. I promise. Thank you. You won't regret this. I'm actually really fun once you get to know me. I read books too; that's why I'm in a library. I love books—"
"Mac?"
"Yeah?"
"I’ll see you tomorrow."
"Right. Yes. Two PM. I'll be here. Early, probably. I'll be early." Mac backed toward the door, never breaking eye contact, which is how he tripped over a chair. He caught himself on a bookshelf, sent three mysteries tumbling to the floor, scrambled to pick them up, gave an awkward wave, and fled.