The bell chimed as the glass door to "Bean & Bloom" swung open. Morning traffic buzzed outside, but inside the cozy coffee shop, the scent of espresso and cinnamon muffins filled the air.
"Another long day," murmured Talia Rivers as she adjusted her green apron and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She was twenty-six, quietly ambitious, and stuck in a routine she hadn't quite planned on.
"Latte with oat milk for...Brandon?" she called out.
"That's me." A man in a navy coat stepped forward, phone glued to his ear. Without looking up, he grabbed the cup. "Thanks."
Talia sighed. Another rude suit.
But that wasn't the man who had her coworkers whispering. No, the one who made the girls peek through the blinds every morning was him. He always came in just before eight. Same table. Same black Americano. No sugar. No smile.
She glanced at the clock. 7:58.
The bell chimed again.
Speak of the devil.
He entered like he owned the air. Dark charcoal suit. Impeccable jawline. Hair like it had been combed by the wind itself. He was tall-intimidatingly tall-but not in a way that made you shrink. More like you wanted to stand straighter.
"Americano, no sugar?" she asked as he approached the counter.
He lifted an eyebrow. "You remember."
"I have a memory for orders. Comes with the territory."
He handed her a twenty. "Keep the change."
"You say that every day. But today I'm telling you-it's too much."
"Then stop remembering my order."
She blinked. Was that...humor?
"Deal," she said, a smile teasing her lips. "Name for the cup?"
He leaned in, eyes a deep storm. "Ethan."
Her hand almost trembled as she
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