Chapter 5
Cali arrived at the library the next morning refreshed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to sleep with the windows open. April? May? However long ago it had been, it was too long.
She always felt different—better even—and slept deeper, too, whenever the weather chilled.
The sunrise was lazy this morning, taking its time to pour through her bedroom window.
The air felt thinner and crisp. The quiet hammer of woodpeckers, the comforting smell of wood smoke mingling with the cool air, the distant echo of marching bands practicing for the high school football games.
Everything about Autumn Ridge looked brighter on her way into work, despite not snagging any cats with the paté on the back porch again.
There was just something magical about the transition to autumn for Cali, because she could dig into the part of her wardrobe that celebrated the season.
While she’d been noticed by many in Autumn Ridge for her vintage-inspired style ever since her arrival—red lips, horn-rimmed glasses, cardigans, blouses with bows, handmade circle skirts—her personality really shone through this morning.
A circle skirt with a woodsy print of squirrels with acorns and fall foliage paired with a slim, emerald-green button-up, another cat brooch peeking out of the left breast pocket.
This time it was a black cat with yellow eyes, one of her favorites.
The only thing that would have made today sweeter, she reasoned, was if there’d been a cat curled beside her head on the pillow or buried in the covers or stretched across her belly on top of the quilt.
A little pang of sadness beat in her chest, the feel and memory of her first and only cat resurfacing.
She journeyed up the handicap ramp toward the double doors of the library, kitten heels softly clicking against the concrete, when she remembered what Minka had said about Ethan.
How he’d been sitting there, across the street, every morning, with a thermos of black coffee.
And reading—or watching. Perhaps watching her.
That’s ridiculous, Cali. He didn’t even know your name until yesterday. Why would he—?
She couldn’t help but glance over.
Ethan’s stormy gray eyes locked with hers. He had a phone pressed to one ear and a cocky smile on his face, the warm steam from the thermos rising up to his lips.
Cali chided herself for never taking note of him there before.
Had he been sitting out there every day for the past six months?
Or just more recently? She knew now he’d been spying on her as she fed the strays behind the library each morning.
But had he been spying on her when she showed up to the library, too?
Then she realized she’d stopped walking up the ramp.
Ethan noticed, too, and lifted his hand in a casual wave, as if to say Caught you staring again.
She debated not waving back at all, pretending she was staring across the street at something else.
Instead, she pretended to rummage through her purse for the library keys before granting him the world’s smallest wave back.
Fortunately, he didn’t stalk her while she fed the strays out back this morning.
No Maine Coon kitten in sight either. The construction noises didn’t kick-start until 9 a.m. But when they did, they drowned out the lovely orchestra of autumn noises that had accompanied Cali that morning.
Since it was Friday, the library was slammed, and she found herself swamped handling overdue notices, checking the book drops and sorting returned materials, and answering patron questions as everyone rushed to grab their books, DVDs, and puzzles for the weekend.
She retreated to her office to catch her breath, only to find herself breathless again when she glanced out her office window to find Ethan, shirtless again, in her purview.
It was all she could do to peel her eyes from veins running like cords down his forearms, the play of shadow and light along his sharply cut obliques.
She shut the window blind before he could catch her and got back to work.
All through her workday, the Nine Lives Club was messaging. The Maine Coon kitten was seen begging for scraps near the park’s picnic benches, chasing mice in the dusty back lot of Bastet’s auto repair shop, even perched on a tombstone at the cemetery. But no one was able to catch it.
Between the Friday patrons and text message pings, Cali was exhausted by closing time and filled with a wistful hunger for the chicken salad sandwich she’d given to Ethan the previous night. So as soon as the clock struck 6 p.m., she grabbed her purse and trench and bee-lined for Minka’s café.
The September skyline was waiting there for her, with flocks of geese printing dark chevrons across the fading blue.
She noticed the first reds and burnt oranges at the crown of the maples, shifting in the wind.
The sun was dipping faster these days, an amber coin sliding into a pocket behind the faraway hills.
She took a moment on the library steps to breathe in the faint apple-sweetness when she saw him again.
Ethan. Fully clothed in a faded gray t-shirt this time but walking toward the café several yards from her nonetheless.
Her stomach clenched momentarily, and she had to remind herself she was headed there for food, not him.
But her pulse ticked up when his shadow fell in step beside hers.
“Hey.”
His voice was so soft and disarming, she almost wondered if he’d had a bad day.
“Oh. Hey, Ethan.” She pretended she hadn’t noticed him leaving the construction site at—coincidentally—the same time she left the library.
“Any word on the cat?”
“Lots, actually. The Nine have been reporting on its whereabouts all day long, but no one’s caught it yet.”
They both paused in front of the café door. Cali expected him to smell gross after a long day of work, but an irresistible scent washed over her. Spiced, with a hint of skin-hugging sweetness.
He grasped the handle of the café door and opened it for her. “Ladies first.”
His height made the door look smaller, as though he belonged to a world a little bigger than everyone else’s. There was a steadiness in the way he stood, the way he moved—grounded and unhurried, like the earth tilted to accommodate him.
Cali raised an eyebrow in surprise then slipped past him and into the café.
“Any seat!” Minka yelled from the back of the café, unaware it was the two of them. But when she peeked through the window to the kitchen, her eyes lit up at the sight of them side by side. She mouthed Oh my God! at Cali through the narrow kitchen window as Ethan scanned the room for a table.
“Evening, Ethan,” someone called from the corner booth. Another turned and waved from the counter.
Cali blinked. Half the café seemed to know him. Since when did construction workers collect fan clubs? Then she remembered the way he’d looked without his shirt on yesterday. She could think of a few reasons.
Cali found her mouth suddenly dry. “I was just going to grab something to go,” she tried to tell Ethan, not really wanting to linger. But when she glanced over, Ethan was already planted in the cozy booth next to her, gesturing as if he expected her to sit across from him.
Cali frowned.
“This booth not to your liking? We can move anywhere you’d like.” He gestured around the café. “Please, I owe you for that croissant you donated to the Hungry Ethan Fund last night at Nine Lives.”
She offered him a faint smile. “It’s just that I—”
“Need to wash your hair?” he quipped. A glimmer of knowing passed between them. “C’mon. Sit. I want to know where they’ve seen that cat today anyway. He hasn’t been near City Hall at all. I looked.”
Before Cali could answer, Minka swept up to the booth, setting down an empty mug and a fresh pot of coffee in front of Ethan and a steaming cup of Oat Couture in front of Cali.
“Chicken salad croissant and two apple cider donuts for Cali, coming right up,” she said brightly. “Ethan told me this morning to save some of those donuts for you since he knew how much you liked them.”
Cali blinked. “He did?”
Ethan’s head snapped toward Minka, eyes wide. “I—what?”
Minka only grinned. “Don’t be modest, hon. Not many men remember what a woman wants the first time.”
She took his order. Breakfast for dinner. Over-easy eggs on corned beef hash, home fries, and buttered toast. Cali liked the sound of that, too. Her mouth watered with hunger already.
“You want apple cider donuts, too, Ethan? They’re fresh.”
“He does,” Cali answered, “if he knows what’s good for him.”
“Oh, I’m sure he knows what’s good for him.” And with that, she whisked away before he could protest.
Ethan exhaled, shaking his head with a helpless laugh.
“Don’t mind her. She’s incorrigible.” Cali took a long, satisfying sip of her coffee.
“More like a fairy godmother,” said Ethan. “I have to admit, I did not know about the donuts, let alone your regular order. All the credit goes to Minka there. But now you’ve got me curious. What’s in that thing?” He pointed at her mug.
As Cali went through the details, she noticed Ethan’s face growing increasingly overwhelmed.
“But Minka just calls it my Oat Couture.”
Ethan practically spit out his coffee. “That tracks! Highly specific.” He lowered his voice and leaned across the table some, forcing Cali to lean closer. “You know, sometimes, when I’m feeling frisky,” he said, “I add some creamer to mine.”
Cali chortled and hit him softly with her napkin. “Stop mocking me. You know, they don’t bat an eye at an order like this in Eastmoor. I’m just glad I found Minka and didn’t have to compromise my coffee morals when I moved here.”
“So you used to live in Eastmoor? That’s a pretty big city. What brought you to Autumn Ridge?”
From there he kept going, asking more and more—about her old corporate job, the house she inherited from her grandmother, her cat brooches, the library, the recent whereabouts of the Maine Coon, the hotly debated Banned Books Week display she wanted.
Each question drew her further in, until she realized she’d been talking for half an hour straight.
Ethan hadn’t offered much about himself at all.
He just sat there, listening like her answers mattered more than anything going on around them.
When she finally looked down, she noticed her sandwich sat nearly untouched. His plate, though, was spotless save for a dab of ketchup at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” he asked, following her eyes to the ketchup spot and wiping it away with his napkin. He cleared his throat. “Why do women do that?”
“Do what?”
“Eat so little on the first date.” He gestured down toward her plate. “Nervous?”
She scoffed. “This is not a date. And if you hadn’t intercepted me on the sidewalk and asked about my entire life, this sandwich would’ve disappeared 28 minutes ago.”
“Then, please, finish. I won’t say another word.”
He took the bill straight from Minka’s hands when she appeared.
Receipt signed, he leaned forward, chin resting on his hand as Cali finished her sandwich and donuts.
His eyes lingered on her mouth, his own lips twitching like he had something he shouldn’t say.
He masked it with a slow drag of his thumb along his jaw, but the scruff catching the last of the sun only made the effort look more deliberate, like he was hiding thoughts that didn’t belong in the café.
Cali caught herself smiling into her empty mug, her belly warm and full. She wasn’t sure which version of Ethan she liked better—the one hanging on every detail of her life or the quiet one watching her now. Either was better than the guy who’d tried to one-up her over a stray cat.
And still, she wanted to know more. What about the cat tail tattooed to his shoulder? Where had he grown up? Why had he taken a job that meant packing up and leaving every couple of years?
But the desire to know made her uneasy. He’d be gone by spring. He wanted her cat. The reasons not to try stacked higher than the ones that did. For now, Ethan Cross was nothing more than a rival at worst, an acquaintance at best. At least, that’s what she told herself.
“Thank you for the meal, Ethan. But don’t get any ideas. This isn’t coq au vin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said easily, though his gaze didn’t quite let her go.
That was her cue. She grabbed her trench, slipped her bag over her shoulder, and rose from the booth, smoothing her skirt as if to prove to herself it really was time to leave.
He stayed seated, watching her with that quiet, steady patience that felt like it could undo her if she lingered another minute.
Outside, the evening air wrapped around her as she walked back toward the library parking lot and under the haze of the streetlights. Only then did she realize, full stomach or not, a different kind of hunger lingered.