Page 20 of One More Time

Hazel laughed. “You’ve been in here four times, and every single time, you’ve gotten plain black coffee, strong. Which suits you. You’re that kind of guy.”

“I am?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Hazel shrugged. “Tall, dark, handsome, firefighter.” She held one finger after another up. “It suits you to get plain black coffee. Although it might be more fun if you tried something sweet.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fair enough. What do you recommend?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She turned around, scanning the chalkboard mounted on the wall behind the counter. “I think you should get chocolate, slightly sweet. Honestly”—she turned back to face me—“some drinks are just too sweet. I promise you this one is pretty subtle. It’s got a hint of chocolate and a touch of sweetness.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Anything to eat? You don’t have a usual for that,” she said as she grinned over at me while preparing my coffee.

“Depends on my mood. Sometimes I want sweet, sometimes I want salty or savory, I suppose.” I scanned the display case of baked goods. “I think I’ll go with a spinach feta popover this morning.”

“Good choice. And they just came out of the oven,” she said, lowering her voice as if imparting a secret. She pulled one out of the case and slid it in the toaster. “Needs to be a little warmer, though. What do you think of Fireweed Harbor?” She returned to prepping my coffee.

“I love it so far. To state the obvious, it’s beautiful. Everyone seems pretty friendly.”

“Good. I hope you stay.”

Just then, the door opened behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, but not so fast that I didn’t miss Hazel narrowing her eyes.

A couple walked in, and it took me a minute, but I recognized the guy as the one who spread rumors about McKenna and did the podcast story on her family. The couple stopped by a table with the guy taking a call on his phone.

I glanced back at Hazel. “I heard he’s a jerk,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She shrugged a little. A few minutes later, she handed me my coffee and food. The guy had finished whatever call he’d taken, and now the couple appeared to be bickering.

As I walked past, I overheard the guy say, “Well, what exactly do you bring to this?”

The woman huffed. “Plenty. It’s not all about money.”

I kept walking, pushing through the door and outside into the crisp air. The girlfriend’s comment about money brought McKenna to mind. I knew her family had money. Hell, I knew who they were before I even moved here. But her whole family was down to earth. Money just wasn’t what I thought of with them.

Yet I imagine plenty of people, like say the asshole back there, whose sole motivation for wanting to be connected to the family was their money.

“Hey there,” a voice said.

I lifted my eyes from the sidewalk in front of me to see Blake approaching.

“Well, hey there,” I said, lifting my coffee in greeting. “Seems like I see you the most out of your family.”

He shrugged. “We seem to go for our coffee about the same time,” Blake offered dryly. He glanced beyond my shoulder. “How do you like your place?”

“I rented it from your family’s property management company. I’m not about to tell you if I don’t like it,” I teased.

He grinned. “You could.”

“Nah, it’s great. And it’s just what I need. As I mentioned, I’m under contract to buy a house. I close next month, so I needed a short-term rental.”

“Oh, right. Where’s your house?”

I thumbed over my shoulder. “About five minutes that way on Emerald Road. It’s got a nice view, enough space, and it was a good price.”

“Oh, I know that place. The family who built it ended up moving a few months after they finished it. I’m guessing there’s some finishing work to do.”

“You guessed right, but I don’t mind that at all.”

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