7. Isabella
CHAPTER SEVEN
ISABELLA
My escapades around town lead back to Tea Leaves. It’s late, but despite that, I want another pumpkin spice black tea.
By the time I stroll up, Georgie is just turning the sign to closed.
I shrug, giving her a self-deprecating smile. I wouldn’t dream of asking her to open everything back up just because I have a caffeine addiction.
She opens the door just a crack. “My God, you’re a worse case than I thought.”
“It’s only five!”
She laughs, opening the door the rest of the way and waving when I hesitate. “Get your ass inside. May as well indulge you in exchange for some company while I close up.”
“Are you sure?” I take a tentative step over the threshold. “I’m happy to just hang out without the caffeine.”
She glares at me until I giggle, going behind the counter and working on my tea. “Did you have a good day meeting vendors?”
“I mean. Kind of?” I lean my hip against the counter next to her. “Clover is kind of…”
“Terrifying? Creepy? Like something out of a horror novel while somehow also kind of comforting?”
I exhale a relieved breath. “Yeah.”
“That’s Old Lady Clover for you.” Georgie sets a timer for the tea to steep. “No one really knows her deal. She doesn’t talk about her past, despite being happy to aggressively poke into yours. But she tends to have good motives, usually, so we all let it slide.”
I laugh along with her, but stop as a prickle of awareness slides up my spine. I spin and look out the windows, but don’t see anything.
Hmm.
I turn back to Georgie and smile, happy to spend time with someone who might just be my new friend.
“How long have you owned Tea Leaves?” I ask as she hands me the steaming mug of tea. I take a gentle sniff, eyes rolling back in my head at the blend of spices.
Her eyes go soft as she cleans off a mug with a rag. “It was my grandmother’s place. She worked here until she literally couldn’t anymore and then gave it to me. Gave it! Like I wasn’t still just a kid who didn’t know the first fucking thing about running a business.”
“She believed in you.”
“She did. Crazy woman.” She blinks a few times before straightening her spine, pushing the emotion away. “But I’m glad she did it. I couldn’t imagine my life without this place.”
I watch as my friend confidently continues closing up shop and feel something akin to a respectful envy. I hope I’m able to find my place one day, just like Georgie.
I may feel like an idiot the entire time, but I can’t help myself from putting on the I’m Seeing A Hot Guy jeans I’ve held sacred since I graduated college.
It’s a miracle I can still fit into them—it takes a fair bit of jumping up and down to accomplish—but they’re always worth it.
Why would I feel the need to wear The Jeans when meeting a man who essentially amounts to a coworker for coffee? I wouldn’t admit that for anything. Not even to myself.
Except for the fact that he smells good, he’s stupidly tall and muscular, he makes me laugh, and I’ve never been this attracted to someone in my life.
Brisk fall air hits me square in the face as I open up my front door. Despite the intensity of it, it’s almost pleasant. Fall has always been my favorite season, and it seems like Lunamois embraces it in every way.
It smells more like fall with every deep breath of cool air. The leaves dance with every breeze. It’s as if the town itself is alive.
I’ve only been here a short time, but I fear I already adore so much about this town. The proximity to the water, the way everyone walks everywhere, and the market full of little trinkets and tchotchkes—the people.
As I trail along the sidewalks toward Tea Leaves, I allow my mind some quiet to focus on the present moment: no job, no roommates, no uncertain future, no parents who didn’t believe in me.
It’s just me and Lunamois.
The crowd thickens as I make my way onto Main Street and into the hustle and bustle of the morning. Most people look just like regular humans, but I can see a few stray pointed ears and fur in places there normally wouldn’t be.
“Good morning,” Nick’s rumbling voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to his crystal-clear blue eyes as he holds open the door to Tea Leaves for me.
A smile comes unbidden to my face at the sight of him. “Good mornin’, boss!”
His eyes burn, something like desire flashing over his face before it’s gone so quickly I can convince myself it was never there. “You’re a goof. Get inside, it’s freezing.”
As the door closes behind us, I’m enveloped in the warmest metaphorical hug of fall spices and heat—baked goods and coffee and tea and everything that is good and right with the world.
I breathe in deeply and close my eyes on a heavy exhale. Everything should smell like this.
“Why don’t I order for us so you can keep doing...” I open my eyes to see him gesture with his hand to me. “Whatever it is you’re doing?”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “Enjoying myself.”
“I wouldn’t dare interrupt that. Your usual?”
He has my order memorized after knowing me for three short days? My own mother doesn’t even know my tea order, and she’s known me for twenty-nine years.
I’m not prepared to know how to respond to someone actually paying attention to me, so I just nod and close my eyes again. If he’s noticed how much I must be blushing, he’s kind about it and doesn’t say anything.
Eventually, I snag our table in the corner with the plush chairs and wait. Nick stands in line, casually chatting with the person in front of him while Georgie makes faces at him.
Have they ever dated?
The thought comes from seemingly nowhere, but I can’t shake it. It sticks like glue. Georgie didn’t mention Nick once last night, just in the morning. She spoke with enough familiarity that I assumed they knew each other, but I haven’t questioned how well yet.
Are they still dating?
Georgie is beautiful and kind. Why wouldn’t they get together?
Jealousy is a green, ugly giant. I don’t think I’ve felt like this before.
Not until now.
Not until I watch with my own eyes how comfortable Nick is as he walks up to the front of the line and how Georgie’s eyes light up when he speaks.
I’ve walked into a town with its own lore. I’ve walked into lives that are already in full swing—connections that I haven’t been part of.
Oh my god, I’m acting like such an idiot. Why do I feel this strange sort of…claim on Nick? He’s not mine. I only met him three days ago!
As if sensing my gaze, he turns slightly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern at whatever he sees on my face. He’s working with a lunatic.
I give him a weak wave—trying desperately to convince him I’m not on the verge of some sort of psychotic break—and then lean down to get my notebook out.
Work. I have to focus on work. Not on Georgie. Not on Nick.
Work.