Two
ELODIE
I’m trying to be casual. Trying to let the coffee warm my hands and distract me from the fluttering in my chest. The warmth of the café is a relief after the crisp winter air, but I’m still cold from the inside out. Not that Kyle seems to notice.
Kyle. Kyle. The man sitting across from me, Kyle Kingston, the best-selling author of crime novels. I’ve heard of the reclusive millionaire everyone in town seems to be whispering about. I’ve been perfectly content in my little world, tucked away in the comfort of my books, never thinking for a second that I’d end up having coffee with him.
He’s too much. Too big. Too mysterious. Not in a dangerous way, but in a way that makes me feel small and unsure. And yet, there’s something so...normal about him, despite the air of wealth that lingers around him like a faint but noticeable perfume. He’s wearing a simple thermal top and jeans, and it should make him approachable, but there’s still something about the way he carries himself that screams “I don’t need to impress you, but I could if I wanted to.”
I twirl a strand of my wild auburn curls around my finger, my nervous habit, and glance over at him. His blonde hair is a little shaggy and unkempt in a way that I’m sure women find charming. He’s got these deep brown eyes that seem to miss nothing. And I keep catching myself trying to figure him out. Trying to understand why he’s here, why he chose to sit with me, why I’m sitting across from a man who should, by all rights, be someone I’d be intimidated by.
Instead, I feel a strange sense of ease whenever I glance up at him. It’s not that he’s unaware of the way the rest of the café is looking at us, whispering behind their hands, shooting us curious glances, but he seems immune to it. I can’t quite figure out if he just doesn’t care or if it’s something else entirely. I’d be dying of embarrassment by now if the roles were reversed.
The fire crackles softly in the corner of the room, and I finally bring the coffee mug to my lips. It’s hot and comforting, just like everything in this little place. Esther’s Café has been my sanctuary since I moved to this mountain town a few years ago. It’s cozy, it smells like cinnamon and butter, and it’s the perfect place for an introvert like me to disappear into my own world with a good book.
But today, I’m not in my world. I’m in his.
I clear my throat, trying to push down the nerves that still have a tight grip on me. “So,” I say, my voice shaking just a little, “you’re...really Kyle Kingston?”
His lips twitch into a half-smile as he leans back in his chair, looking relaxed, like he’s actually enjoying this conversation. “I’m afraid so.”
I nod, pretending like I’m not still amazed that I’m sitting across from him. “I’ve, uh...heard of you. You’re younger than I would have thought.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Heard of me? I thought you said you didn’t read crime novels.”
I laugh, and it’s a bit of a nervous sound, but I can’t help it. He’s just so...offbeat. “Yeah, well, my mom’s a fan. I think she might actually have all your books lined up on her bookshelf.”
Kyle grins at that, clearly entertained. “That’s one vote of confidence, at least.”
I’m starting to feel a little more at ease, and the conversation shifts into safer waters, like the weather in town, small, unremarkable, but familiar. We talk about the mountains, about the town’s tiny library, and about how small-town life seems to have a way of keeping everything so close-knit. I can tell he’s not used to this kind of easy, ordinary talk. And I’m not used to talking to someone like him, either.
“So,” he asks after a while, his voice low, “what do you do when you’re not reading about happily-ever-afters?”
I bite my lip, a little unsure how much I should tell him. I feel so... ordinary. He probably lives in a giant house with a view of the city or the ocean or something. “I work at the quarry, in the office,” I say, lifting my coffee mug to my lips. “Nothing glamorous, but it pays the bills.”
“The quarry?” he repeats, his eyebrow lifting. “Isn’t that a little... rough?”
I smile at his attempt to understand my world. “It’s not as bad as you might think. I’m in the office part of it, not out there digging. It’s a steady job, and I like it well enough. Nothing fancy, just numbers and reports.”
Kyle doesn’t respond right away, just takes a sip from his own coffee cup, his dark eyes studying me with more attention than I’m comfortable with.
“What else do you do?” he asks. “What do you really enjoy?”
That’s a harder question. I think for a second, then smile and twirl my hair around my finger again, another nervous habit. “I like animals. I volunteer at the shelter on Saturdays. Just...you know...helping out. I’ve always been a sucker for stray cats.”
“Really?” he says, clearly surprised. “That’s...not what I expected.”
“I know,” I say, my cheeks warming a little. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”
There’s a long pause, and for a moment, I think I’ve said too much. Maybe I’m boring him. Maybe he’s already regretting asking me to sit with him. But then I see something in his eyes, something that softens, that warms, and I realize he’s genuinely interested in what I’m saying. He’s not here to critique my life, to judge the smallness of it.
It’s strange. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this...this connection.
Kyle watches me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s processing something. Then he looks at me with that intensity again, the one that makes my heart race.
“You’re kind of...a rock in this town, aren’t you?” he says quietly.
I don’t know how to respond to that. “I guess. I like my routine. It’s simple. Predictable.”
“I get that,” he says, leaning forward a little, his voice low and steady. “I’ve spent my life chasing excitement and danger in my writing, but...there’s something refreshing about the calm you have. It’s real. It’s grounded.” He pauses. “You’re grounded.”
His words throw me for a loop, and I look down at my coffee cup, unsure of what to say next.
But then, as if nothing could be more normal, he drops a bombshell.
“What would you say to being my date for a Valentine’s Gala next week?”
I freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest. Did he just ask me that? I blink at him, not sure if he’s joking or if I’m supposed to be playing along with some elaborate prank. I glance around the café, half-expecting someone to jump out with hidden cameras and reveal the whole thing as some kind of social experiment. But no one’s looking at us with anything but curiosity.
“I, uh, wait, what?” I stammer, completely caught off guard.
“A gala that the publishing house is putting on,” he repeats, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I need someone to accompany me. A temporary girlfriend. Someone who won’t fake it, who won’t be trying to impress me or cling to my arm all night. Someone who’s just...real.”
I blink again, trying to process what he’s saying. Why me? What in the world could he want with someone like me? He’s a millionaire, or maybe a billionaire , and I’m just...me. A regular girl who works at the quarry, who spends her Saturdays at the shelter.
Oh that’s right, he said temporary .
“This is...this is a joke, right?” I ask, my voice rising slightly in disbelief. “You don’t even know me.”
Kyle looks serious now, the light from the fireplace flickering across his face. “It’s not a joke, Elodie. I want someone I can be myself with. Not some paid model who’s just there for the show. Someone who’s real. And I think that’s you.”
I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth to protest again, but the words don’t come. How could I possibly? I don’t even know what I’d wear to something like that, or how to do my hair or makeup.
“You don’t have to answer right now,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “But I’m asking because I think you’re intriguing. I’m not looking for a date out of obligation. I’m looking for someone who can be themselves.”
I swallow hard, overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t prepared for it. But despite my nerves, I hear myself saying, “Okay. I’ll go.”
It’s a simple answer, and yet, it feels like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever agreed to.
Kyle’s smile curves, that crooked, knowing grin that makes my heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says, his voice low and easy. “Now, let’s get you to your car before the whole town hears you’ve agreed to date me.”
I laugh, the sound light, my nerves unwinding just a little. But as we step outside, my thoughts settle into a quiet rush. I walk toward my car, each step heavier than the last, the weight of what I’ve just agreed to sinking in. It feels surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment.
As I reach the door, Kyle leans in, and for a brief, breathless second, I think he’s going to kiss me on the cheek, a simple gesture. But he doesn’t. Instead, his lips find mine in the softest, most delicate kiss, one that feels like it’s been waiting for just this moment. It’s tender, like the world is holding its breath around us.
When he pulls back, there’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, something raw and unspoken. In that look, I feel the shift, the beginning of something that neither of us can name yet, but both of us can feel.
This unexpected, bewildering beginning. And I can’t quite catch my breath.