Chapter 9 #2
I grab the stainless-steel bin from the commercial brewer, feeling its weight, its slight chill.
It’s been scrubbed spotless, waiting for this exact moment.
I pour the grounds in slowly, watching the dark, velvety mound rise, the aroma deepening.
For a second, I close my eyes and breathe in, letting the memory wash over me—Dad teaching us both how “good coffee isn’t rushed,” how every scoop should be done with intention.
We were barely tall enough to reach the coffee pot, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t long until Evie and I were waking up early on the weekends and fighting over who would make the coffee for Mom and Dad.
I fell in love with baking the year before Dad died. Suddenly Evie and I had both found our niches. She made the coffee. I prepped dough for scones or buttery biscuits.
The memories come flooding back in an instant.
We were Dad’s pride and joy. Mom’s too.
I like to think he’s looking down on us now, smiling at how far we’ve come.
“We’re really doing it, Daddy,” I whisper to the heavens.
Evie comes bustling in a few minutes later, buzzing with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Oooo. Did someone talk to Gideon this morning on the way to work?” I tease.
She hums, “k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” under her breath with a playful smirk.
“Yeah, yeah,” I roll my eyes. “Now that you’re here, and the house blend is brewing, I’m going to get to work on some croissants for the morning rush.”
Evie nods and I disappear into the kitchen to get to work.
By the time the doors open at 6 am, the pastry case in the front has been filled with fresh-baked treats.
Customers are lined up down the street, like we’ve been closed for months and not just a few days.
There’s a steady stream of patrons coming in and out of the place for hours.
Business was steady before the fire, but if this trend continues, we’ll definitely need more help. Maybe only for the holidays.
While I check out the next customer, I make a mental note to put out some feelers and see if anyone would be interested in working part-time at the register. That would give me time to keep the pastries restocked.
It’s closer to 9 when the crowd thins out a little and I’m able to take a deep breath. With everyone waited on, I step out from behind the counter with a clean rag to wipe down tables.
That’s when I see him.
Hayes is outside, talking with his crew, steam rising from their breath. He’s laughing—big, bright, unburdened.
He looks happy.
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re the reason behind that goofy smile on his face,” Evie says, sliding up behind me.
I sigh. “Evie…”
She sobers. “I’m serious, Em. I like him for you. I always have. He’s steady. Loyal. He looks at you like you’re literally the only person in the world.”
My chest twists painfully.
“Do you think it’s too fast?” I ask quietly.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I think you’ve been waiting years to take the brakes off.”
Outside, Hayes turns, like he senses me watching.
Our eyes meet through the glass.
My heart skips a beat.
He says something to his guys, nods toward the door, and just like that, the whole group starts moving.
Evie nudges my shoulder with hers. “He even brought his entire calendar-worthy fire crew.”
I glare at her—but I’m smiling. I can’t not smile. “I’m telling Gideon."
She shrugs. “Guess I better go take some coffee orders,” she finishes with a wink.
The rest of the crew fans out behind him—familiar faces, teasing grins, big appetites—but Hayes? He heads straight for me. Like there’s no question where he belongs.
“Morning, Em,” he says with a grin that I finally realize is the one he’s reserved just for me.
Evie’s words echo in my ear: You’ve been waiting years to take the brakes off.
His fingers slip into mine, cold from the snowy air. “You know,” he murmurs, pretending to kiss my cheek, “last night was really something.”
“That’s one word for it.” I blush.
“If you’re up for it. I plan to take you out on an actual date tonight. One that ends somewhere other than the firehouse supply closet,” he says, keeping his voice low so no one else can hear us.
Heat flushes my face. “I cannot believe we actually did that.”
“Oh, we’re doing it again. But with a bed next time.”
I smack his chest, laughing breathlessly.
He finally gives me a real kiss. A quick peck on the lips that still holds the promise of passion.
Wyatt lets out a whistle and a few of the guys whoop.
I bury my head against him, mortified.
“Guess the whole town knows it’s official now,” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest.
“If not, they will in about five minutes,” I murmur.
I lift my head from Hayes’s chest just as Mom bustles through the front door, cheeks rosy from the cold, snowflakes clinging to her hat.
She takes one look at me wrapped up in Hayes’s arms, firemen all grinning like they’ve been waiting for this plot twist for a decade—and her entire face lights up with a smile that I haven’t seen since my dad died.
“Morning, Mrs. Alder,” Hayes lets me go and hugs my mom.
“I guess since no one is in their fire gear, you’re here on a personal call?” She gives Hayes a knowing glance.
“You’d be right,” he winks.
“About time,” she says, then pinches his cheek. “Now, get a ring on her finger so I can finally have some grandbabies. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Mom!” I gasp.
“Just say the word, honey. I can make a New Year’s Eve wedding happen like ‘that’.” She snaps her fingers.
“Told ya it was time to take the breaks off, Sis,” Evie calls out from behind the counter.
The cafe door opens and Holly Bascombe, town florist and uber-talented decorator, walks in. We exchange pleasantries and my mom doesn’t even hesitate to ask Holly what her schedule looks like in the event that “we” may have a last-minute wedding on our hands.
Holly laughs. “Well, I suppose it is the season. I always enjoy putting together winter floral arrangements.”
Mom continues making small talk with Holly while she gets in line, no doubt for her dose of peppermint mocha.
Meanwhile, I look up at Hayes and ask, “How do you feel about moving somewhere warmer? Some place at least an eight-hour flight away?”
He looks like he’s about to answer me in earnest when the bell over the door jingles again.
Luke Byron, Mistletoe Bay’s own tech genius, pauses in the doorway the minute Holly turns around and his eyes meet hers. Then he practically disappears, right back out into the cold.
Holly sighs.
Hayes raises a brow. “Wonder what that’s about?” he whispers.
I shrug. “Not a clue.”
I might not know what’s going on with Holly and Luke, but as Hayes wraps his arm around me and tucks me into his side, I know for certain that I’m looking forward to wherever our kindled hearts lead us.