Chapter 1 #3
"I may have neglected to mention I've been doing some acting work.
" Ruby examines her ruby-red nails with studied casualness.
"Nothing major. Yet. But there's a western romance film they're casting for, and apparently my 'striking presence' would be perfect for the lead omega role.
" She makes air quotes. "Their words, not mine. "
Ruby. In a western. On a horse. Probably wearing leather chaps and seducing cowboys.
I need this movie immediately.
"I'd love to help around here while I'm in town," she continues.
"Would keep me busy between riding lessons and give me an excuse to perfect my small-town-girl energy for the character.
" She grins. "Plus, I miss being a barista.
Corporate innovation is great, but there's something about actually making drinks for real people that hits different. "
I gawk at her. Literally gawk—mouth slightly open, eyes wide, the whole undignified package. "You... really? You wouldn't mind?"
"Hell no." Ruby's smile is warm and genuine, the mischief dimmed but not extinguished. "I'd love to dive back into my barista skills. This place is gorgeous, the coffee you're making is incredible, and honestly? I could use some grounding after all the chaos of the past year."
She could use some grounding. The woman who just spontaneously went to Rio for New Year's could use some grounding.
We all contain multitudes, I suppose.
Ruby stands, unfolding those impossibly long legs and stretching her arms above her head.
Her leather jumpsuit creaks pleasantly with the movement.
"I should go check in with my agency so they know I'm in town and doing my part in 'embracing the rustic lifestyle.
'" More air quotes. "Actors are apparently supposed to be method about these things. "
I laugh, standing as well to walk her to the door. "Method acting for a western by working in a small-town bakery. That's commitment."
"It's called range," she says haughtily, then ruins it with a wink. "You still have my number, yes?"
I nod.
"Send me the details. If you need my resume or references or whatever, I'll send them over.
Though honestly?" She flips her fire-red hair over one shoulder with practiced drama.
"My resume is mostly just 'invented drinks that made Starbucks millions' and 'once made a latte so good a man proposed on the spot. '"
"That didn't happen."
"It could have. My lattes are that good."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm iconic," she corrects. "There's a difference."
I laugh, the sound light and free in a way it hasn't been in weeks. "Hell, you're hired. I don't need a resume. I've seen you work miracles with a milk frother and a bad attitude."
"That's my specialty." Ruby grins, pulling me into another hug that smells like wild roses and adventure and the kind of friendship that doesn't fade just because life gets complicated. "Miracles and bad attitudes."
We walk to the door together, and she pauses with her hand on the handle, the morning light catching the gold in her eyes and making them glow like embers.
"I'll keep in touch," she promises. "I'm a text away.
And remember, Rosemarie—" Her voice goes serious for a moment, all the playfulness stripped away to reveal the genuine soul beneath the leather and lipstick.
"Don't let life chase away your goals and dreams. You deserve the Rio moments.
The fireworks. The kisses at midnight. Don't forget that while you're busy making everyone else's coffee perfect. "
And there it is. The thing I needed to hear without knowing I needed to hear it.
Before I can respond—before I can do anything embarrassing like cry or hug her again—Ruby pushes through the door with a dramatic flourish, and the cold January air rushes in like a gasp of surprise.
Snow has started falling.
Fat, fluffy flakes drift down from a sky that's gone soft and gray, transforming the small-town street into something from a postcard. They catch in Ruby's fire-red hair like stars, like confetti, like the universe itself is celebrating her presence.
She turns back at the last moment, leather boots already leaving prints in the fresh white dusting on the sidewalk, and throws me one final wave.
"And happy New Year!" she calls out, her voice carrying through the falling snow like a bell.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her walk away—this impossible, wonderful, six-foot-tall firecracker of an omega who just blew into my life and reminded me that I'm allowed to want things. That I'm allowed to dream. That maybe, just maybe, this year could be different.
The snow swirls around me, cold and clean and full of possibility.
Inside, the bakery hums with warmth, with the scent of coffee and bread and everything cozy.
And somewhere in my chest, beneath the loneliness and the longing and the years of carefully built walls, something small and hopeful stirs awake.
Maybe this is my year. Maybe Rio will come to me instead of the other way around. Maybe I'll find my fireworks, my midnight kiss, my pack that looks at me like I'm their whole world.
Or maybe I'll just make really good coffee and learn to be okay with that too.
Either way—it's a fresh start.
A clean slate.
A new year full of possibilities I haven't even imagined yet.
She smiles as she waves.
“Happy New Year, Ruby.”