Chapter 9
Taylor
The night air was crisp as they stepped out of the library, their breath fogging in the glow of the streetlights.
Ryan still carried the flashlight, even though the streets were quiet, and when Taylor teased him about it, he only grunted, scanning the shadows like danger might spring from behind a mailbox.
She hugged the journal close to her chest, the leather warm from her hands. “You don’t have to walk me home, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.” His tone left no room for argument.
They fell into step together, boots crunching over patches of ice on the sidewalk.
For a while, silence stretched between them, but Taylor’s thoughts were buzzing too loud.
He hadn’t just shown up at the café this morning.
He hadn’t just gone into the creepy archives with her.
He had been… there. Consistently. And she couldn’t help but wonder why.
She glanced at him, his jaw hard, eyes trained on the road ahead. “Ryan,” she said softly, “why did you really come back home?”
His stride faltered for half a beat, then picked back up.
He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he blew out a breath, the sound rough in the cold.
“An operation went wrong. My call. People got hurt. My men…” His voice caught, and he shook his head.
“I can’t go back to that. Can’t be the one calling the shots anymore. ”
Taylor’s chest tightened. She slowed, searching his face. “Ryan…”
He shrugged, shoulders broad and tired. “My enlistment ended, and I didn’t sign up again. Didn’t matter how many times they asked. I needed out. I thought coming home might help me figure out what’s next.”
Taylor pressed the journal against her heart. “You’ve always been good at leading people. Maybe you just need to do it in a way that doesn’t break you.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t,” she admitted. “But you can’t keep hiding from what you love, Ryan. If calling the shots used to mean something to you, then find a new way to do it. Something that makes you feel alive again.”
As they reached her front porch, he glanced at her then, eyes sharp, almost searching. And then he said, quietly, “Funny. That’s exactly what you should be telling yourself.”
Taylor blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a published author, Taylor. Why are you hiding it like it’s a dirty secret?”
Her heart stopped. The journal nearly slipped from her grip. “How—”
“I’ve read your books,” Ryan said simply. “Every one of them.”
Her knees went weak, and she had to grab the front porch rail for support. “You…you have not.”
He met her stunned expression with maddening calm. “I have. And you’re good. Better than good. You’ve got a gift, and instead of owning it, you publish under a pen name and pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Taylor’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. No one knew. Not even Emma.
Ryan’s mouth quirked, the ghost of a grin. “My favorite was the one about the girl in love with her best friend’s brother.”
Her breath caught. Heat flooded her face.
“Any chance that was about me?” The teasing, challenging edge to his voice left her trembling.
“Why…why would you think it was about you?”
Ryan’s gaze darkened, unreadable. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.
The world tilted. His mouth was warm and fierce, stealing the breath from her lungs, sending a rush of heat through her veins. She clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer, and for one wild second, it felt like every buried wish she’d ever made was exploding into life.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. His thumb brushed her cheek, lingering for one beat longer than necessary.
“Did you ever think that maybe I came back for you?” He kissed her gently this time, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.
She let out a soft moan as she kissed him back. Enjoying the moment and wondering how her lifelong fantasy had just become a reality.
She nearly cried in protest when he pulled back, a satisfied smile on his face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
And just like that, he turned and strode down the street, leaving Taylor rooted to the spot, lips tingling, heart racing, clutching her secret journal like it might anchor her to reality.
* * *
Taylor was useless with the pastry display. She’d dropped a muffin, nearly spilled a tray of scones, and spent the better part of three minutes staring at a cinnamon roll like it had personally wronged her.
All because of Ryan Carter.
Her lips still tingled. Her chest still ached with the memory of his mouth on hers, the way his hands had framed her face like she was something precious, something he couldn’t stop himself from touching.
She’d barely slept, tossing and turning like a teenager after her first kiss.
Except she wasn’t a teenager. And this wasn’t her first kiss.
But it felt like the first one that mattered.
The bell over the café door jingled, jolting her out of her daze. Emma breezed in with the stroller, juggling a diaper bag, her phone, and a pacifier in a way only Emma could. She spotted Taylor immediately, narrowed her eyes, and grinned.
“Well, well,” Emma said as she parked the stroller near the counter. “Somebody looks suspiciously… glowy this morning.”
Taylor blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Glowy?”
Emma leaned on the counter, smirking. “Yes. Glowy. Giddy. Radiant. Like someone just got kissed under the mistletoe, except it’s February and you’re usually a Valentine’s Day grinch.”
Taylor fumbled with the pastry tongs, dropping another muffin. “I’m fine.”
Emma arched a brow. “Fine? You’re practically floating. Normally this week you’re sulky and snarky about heart-shaped chocolates. But right now you’re humming.”
Taylor froze. She had been humming. “I am not.”
Emma grinned wider. “Oh, you definitely are. Spill it.”
Taylor busied herself with arranging croissants, avoiding Emma’s knowing gaze. “There’s nothing to spill.”
Emma tilted her head, eyes sharp. “Taylor Pierce, you’ve never been good at hiding anything from me. So who is he?”
Taylor swallowed hard, her heart racing. Her mind flashed to Ryan’s mouth, Ryan’s voice murmuring I’ll see you tomorrow. She tried for casual, tried for deflection, but her smile betrayed her.
“No one,” she said weakly.
Emma let out a triumphant laugh. “Oh, it’s someone. And judging by that look on your face, it’s not just anyone.”
Taylor pressed her lips together, cheeks blazing. She wanted to tell her, to gush like they were teenagers again, but the words caught in her throat. How could she explain that it was Ryan without unraveling everything?
Before Emma could push further, a customer appeared at the counter, and Taylor gratefully turned to take the order, her heart still hammering.
But as she glanced out the window, she caught sight of Ryan leaning against his truck across the street, arms folded, watching the café like a man with a mission.
And her lips curved into a smile she couldn’t contain.
Emma slid into a chair at the corner table once the baby settled, still watching Taylor with that insufferably knowing grin.
“So,” Emma began, drawing out the word like she was savoring it, “is it anyone I know?”
Taylor carefully stacked napkins, keeping her eyes anywhere but on her best friend. “It’s no one.”
“Uh-huh.” Emma tapped her chin, pretending to think. “Tall? Brooding? Ex-Marine with a bad habit of storming into your life?”
Taylor’s head whipped around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. “What?”
Emma burst out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from waking the baby. “Taylor, please. You’ve had a crush on my brother since you were ten. Did you really think I didn’t notice?”
Heat seared Taylor’s cheeks. “I—I did not—”
Emma arched a brow. “Give it up. I caught you doodling his name in your notebook once. And don’t even get me started on the way you used to stare at him in high school.”
Taylor was mortified. “That was years ago. Ancient history.”
Emma leaned forward, whispering like she was letting Taylor in on a scandal. “So it is Ryan.”
Taylor opened her mouth, ready to deny it again, but the bell over the café door jingled before she could get a word out.
Ryan strode in, sunlight at his back, like he owned the place. He spotted Emma first, gave her a nod, then crossed to the counter where Taylor stood frozen.
“Morning,” he said casually, leaning an elbow on the counter. And before Taylor could even process, he bent down and kissed her. Not a quick brush of lips, but a warm, confident kiss that left her knees weak and the entire café buzzing.
When he straightened, Taylor’s brain was scrambled eggs. Emma, however, looked like Christmas had come early.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” Emma squealed, bouncing in her seat so hard she nearly jostled the stroller. “I knew it! I knew it was you two! This is the best day of my life.”
Taylor sputtered, “Emma—”
“Nope. Don’t even try. I am so telling Mom and Dad.” Emma scooped up her diaper bag with terrifying efficiency. “Actually, I’m telling everyone. By dinner tonight, the entire Carter family will know that my best friend and my brother are finally making out like hormonal teenagers.”
Ryan smirked, utterly unfazed. “Morning, sis.”
Emma wagged a finger at him as she wheeled the stroller toward the door. “Don’t you dare mess this up. She’s family, Ryan. Family.”
Taylor was still stuck somewhere between mortified and melting into a puddle behind the counter.
Emma grinned wickedly at her on the way out. “I told you you were glowing.”
The bell jingled again as she left, her laughter trailing behind her like a victory song.
Taylor groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “I’m never living this down.”
Ryan just chuckled, reached across the counter, and stole one of her muffins. “Told you I’d see you today.”
Taylor’s hands flew to her mouth. “Are you crazy? You can’t just kiss me in front of the whole town like that. There will be repercussions.”
Ryan leaned on the counter like he’d just ordered a latte, unbothered. “God, I hope so. If I openly stake my claim, then maybe your secret admirer will run away.”
Her jaw dropped. “Stake your claim? This isn’t medieval times! And hey—” she jabbed a finger at him “—I happen to like all the fun gifts I’m being given. What if he’s my soul mate and you’ve run him off?”
A throat cleared loudly behind them.
Taylor turned and found Mrs. Abernathy from the quilting circle standing there, arms crossed, glaring at Ryan like he’d just tracked mud across her best rug. “Young man, you do not stake claims on women. That’s barbaric.”
Ryan blinked. “I didn’t mean—”
“And you,” Mrs. Abernathy said, swiveling to Taylor, “soul mates don’t leave notes under café chairs like cowards. They bring flowers and pies and show up on your doorstep.”
“How did you know about the notes—”
“Unless,” Mrs. Abernathy added, lowering her voice like she was imparting state secrets, “Ryan is your soul mate, in which case you should keep the one who actually kisses you instead of the one hiding in basements.”
Taylor made a strangled noise. “What basements—?”
“I vote for Ryan!” called Mr. Nelson from the corner booth, not even looking up from his crossword. “The boy finally grew a spine.”
“Thank you.” Ryan nodded his head in amusement.
“This is not a town hall debate,” Taylor hissed.
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Abernathy said crisply. “Everything in this town is a town hall debate.”
Taylor’s protest died as Mrs. Abernathy marched right up to the counter and slapped her hand down like a judge calling for order. “All right, everyone, we’re settling this right now. Taylor Pierce’s love life is officially on the docket.”
Taylor gaped. “This is not on the docket—”
“Order!” Mrs. Abernathy barked, and to Taylor’s horror, the café actually quieted. “I leave the floor to you, Nelson.”
Mr. Nelson lowered his newspaper. “Let’s review. Option one: the secret admirer, who is creative, thoughtful, and possibly romantic. Option two: Ryan Carter, who is grumpy, bossy, but willing to walk her home at night.”
“I like option one,” called a college kid by the window. “Mysterious. Keeps things interesting.”
“Mysterious equals dangerous,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “You want poor Taylor lured into a basement by some creep? Ryan’s a Marine. He knows how to handle danger.”
“He also knows how to scare himself half to death over a raccoon,” Taylor muttered, but no one listened.
Nancy, the barista, raised her hand. “Pro for the secret admirer. He clearly knows Taylor well. He leaves gifts that mean something. Pro for Ryan. He actually shows up in person, not just on sticky notes.”
“I like a man who shows up,” Mr. Nelson agreed. “Presence counts.”
Ryan leaned against the counter, smug. “Should we put it to a vote?”
Taylor spun on him, jaw dropping. “Don’t you dare—”
But it was too late. Mrs. Abernathy raised her hand. “All in favor of the secret admirer?”
Three tentative hands lifted.
“All in favor of Ryan Carter?”
Nearly every other hand in the café shot up, along with a chorus of “Aye!” that rattled the pastry case.
Taylor groaned, sinking behind the counter like she could melt into the floor. “Unbelievable.”
Ryan snagged another muffin and took a victorious bite. “Mandate from the people.”
“This is not a democracy!” Taylor hissed.
“Sure feels like one,” he said, smirking.
The café erupted into applause, and someone shouted, “Kiss her again!”
Ryan gave her a grin before leaning across the counter and locking his lips with hers. The hoots and hollers were drowned out by the fierce beating of her heart.
Someone near the window shouted, “When’s the wedding?” and the whole café broke into laughter.
Taylor pulled back and shook her head. She was certain her soul tried to escape her body. She glared at Ryan, who only leaned in and stole another muffin off her tray.
“Found this note from your secret admirer taped to your door this morning after you left for work,” he said, unruffled.
Taylor’s jaw dropped as she stared at the pink note he held out.
She tried to grab it, but he stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Let me know when you’re done working, and we’ll go figure out the next clue together. ”
“Why you—”
He kissed her lightly on the mouth again and then sauntered out of the cafe to the backdrop of hoots and whistles, leaving Taylor feeling happy, confused, and completely overstimulated.