No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

“I just mean it’s gonna be hard to find him a nickname when you’re both from Alaska. If you want him on the crew, consider it done.” Holt grins, folding his arms on the desk. “Give him my number. Have him call me to set up an interview. We could use the extra hands on the museum job if we want to get it done in time for the city council’s grand opening plans.”

Have I mentioned how sometimes Holt’s a bit of a bastard?

I can breathe a bit easier, at least, and I grin.

“Thanks, chief. I’ll let him know.”

I turn to leave, but Holt’s voice follows me. “Old friend, huh? Is that how you say hello to old friends where you’re from—socking ’em square in the face?”

I don’t know what to say to that.

So I don’t.

I’m just glad it’s one less loose end to take care of.

One less problem dangling over my head.

Speaking of the museum job, it’s a rough day laying the foundation, especially with so much weighing on my mind. So many unanswered questions floating around when all I can do is wait and see if Fuchsia Delaney lives up to the trust the guys put in her.

If I’m honest with myself, though, that’s not the whole reason for the day creeping along.

I want to see Fliss, dammit.

The second I’m clocked out and cleaned off, I’m right back at The Nest, helping her unload her station wagon after the other night. She’d packed it full of everything she’d used for that booth at the festival.

I’m impressed she hauls these huge sacks of beans around by herself.

They’re fairly hefty and weigh close to fifty pounds. I’ve got two tossed over my shoulder, bowing my back as I trudge inside.

I can’t help but stop just inside the threshold, caught as the light falls over Felicity and Eli, leaning together like they’re thick as thieves and smiling over something on Eli’s camera screen.

They’ve been like that all day.

Eli’s still in love with the café’s vibe, and she’s been adorably open to everything he wanted to try for his camera work. Shifting the furniture just so in front of a window or catching a shot of her working at the register framed through the filigree mounted high on one wall. He also snapped off plenty of shots from above as she stirred patterns into cappuccino froth.

Eli’s easy with her.

She’s sweet with him.

She’s also mighty encouraging, and I overhear her promising she’ll use his photos on the website and social media accounts she keeps for The Nest.

“You’ve gotta get on Instagram!” Eli says firmly. “That’s where people love seeing pictures of things. It’s like, a window for your whole brand.”

“I’ll see about signing up.” She giggles, leaning her arms on the bar. “What about putting a few up in the café itself? Your very first gallery exhibition.”

“Dude. No way.” Eli shakes his head solemnly. “No photos of the café in the café. That’s too meta and you need some more, like, natural scenes.”

Meta, huh? I try not to snort at the ten-dollar words he’s learning from that Tara girl.

“You know,” Fliss says, taking him seriously as she glances around, “I think you’re right.”

As she turns her head, she catches my eye and blinks.

For the briefest moment, she looks startled to see me standing here before she ducks her head, peeking at me past her hair with a shy smile and her eyes lit like a wintry sunset.

My pulse booms in my ears.

Goddamn, I’m hooked.

Hooked on her and the way she fits our lives so effortlessly.

No denying it now—not that I ever did.

If we had our chance, we could be perfect together.

We could be right.

Then again, I felt that way about Katelyn at first, too.

As rotten as she turned out, she also didn’t come with a parade of murderous drug-dealing psychopaths chasing after their stolen blood money.

If I want something more with Fliss, I need to be sure it won’t bite me in the ass. Especially when it’s getting harder by the day to pretend we’re still pretending.

Those kisses taste as real as her coffee—bold, bright, and electrifying.

Can I save her in time?

Can I convince myself I’m not making another big-ass mistake all over again?

I try not to dwell on the cupid shit too much as I finish hauling things into the storage room and help Felicity tidy things up and close everything down.

Right now feels good.

Right now is enough.

Almost feels like we’re faking it in a different way, believing this could actually be real when there are so many reasons why it could go absolutely haywire, spark, and burn our worlds to cinders.

Still, I don’t want to stop.

So I cling to the illusion for a little while longer, marveling at her shy smiles and breathing the air in her wake.

I enjoy becoming a drumming heartbeat just shy of seven feet tall because now my pulse drums for her.