Chapter 3 Stirred Hearts

After that morning, something shifted.

Ethan no longer sat in silent isolation. He moved from the window to the stool at the counter, near the espresso machine where Talia worked. It wasn't a loud declaration-more like a quiet decision. A small, intentional step closer.

"You're early today," she remarked the next morning as he arrived ten minutes before his usual time.

"I had a meeting cancel," he said, slipping off his gloves.

"Oh? What does Mr. Quiet do for a living when he's not brooding over coffee?"

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Business."

"Is that the name of your company or just a vague way to avoid the question?"

"Both."

Talia leaned on the counter. "So you're mysterious and boring."

To her surprise, he chuckled. A short, quiet laugh that sounded unused-like a song played on an old record player.

"You're nosy."

"I prefer the term 'curious.' It makes me sound charming."

He sipped his coffee. "You write, don't you?"

She stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"You scribble in a notebook when you think no one's watching."

She flushed. "Okay, Sherlock. Maybe I jot down ideas. Doesn't mean I'm a writer."

"You have ink on your wrist," he said simply, "and a dream in your eyes."

For a moment, the café disappeared-the bustle, the espresso machine, even Harper singing to herself in the back.

Talia couldn't remember the last time someone looked at her and saw more than her apron.

"Romance novels," she said finally.

Ethan lifted a brow. "Expected poetry."

"Same tools, different stories. You ever read one?"

He shook his head. "Not since high school."

"Then you're overdue."

He looked at her again, this time longer. "Maybe you'll write me into one."

Talia grinned, heart fluttering. "Only if you behave."