Page 15 of All You Need Is Macchiato

Cam stands in the doorway, designer suit stark against the homey atmosphere we've created. His smile doesn't reach his eyes as he surveys the crowd.

"Hardly a miracle." I gesture to the busy space. "Just giving the community what they want."

"What they want." He repeats the words like they're foreign. "And I see you've enlisted some local help."

Nolan straightens beside me, but his voice stays easy. "Just doing my civic duty. Supporting local business."

"How charitable." Cam's smirk could cut glass. "Though I didn't realize the mighty marketing genius of Mountain Laurel Lodge had time to play assistant."

The temperature in the room seems to drop. Several locals pause their conversations, watching.

"Funny." Nolan's tone is mild, but I feel him tense. "I remember making that same offer three years ago. You weren't interested in local expertise then."

"Ancient history." Cam waves this away. "Though I must say, your community spirit is touching. Almost as touching as that winter festival proposal you were so proud of."

Something dangerous flashes in Nolan's eyes.

"Keep things on track, Kathryn." Cam adjusts his tie. "We don't want to get too rustic."

He sweeps out, leaving a wake of whispers and sidelong glances.

"What was that about?" I turn to Nolan. "What winter festival?"

"Leave it."

"No." I touch his arm, feeling the tension there. "I need to understand what I'm walking into."

He studies me for a long moment, then nods toward the door. "Walk with me?"

Outside, the mountain air is crisp with approaching autumn. We fall into step together, heading toward the lodge.

"Three years ago," he says finally, "when Cam bought the franchise, the Callahans offered to help with the transition. We knew the community, the market. Had ideas about blending Coffee Loft's brand with local culture."

"And?"

"And Cam smiled and nodded and ignored every suggestion. Until winter came." His jaw tightens. "I'd been working on a festival concept. Something to bring people together during the slow season. Local vendors, music, activities for kids. Cam shut it down hard."

"But?"

"But three months later, there it was. Different name, slightly different format, but my concept. Right down to the hot chocolate station I'd planned." He laughs without humor. "When I confronted him, he said great minds think alike. Then he banned the lodge from participating."

"That's why you were so against helping me."

"Partly." He stops, turning to face me. "Look, I know you mean well. But Cam doesn't care about community or connection. He cares about a quick profit."

"I'm not Cam."

"No." His eyes soften as they meet mine. "You're not."

Something in his voice makes my heart skip. We're standing close—too close for colleagues, too far for whatever this pull between us is becoming.

"Thank you," I say softly. "For giving this a chance. For giving me a chance."

"Don't thank me yet." But there's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before. "We still have to survive Cam's 'helpful suggestions.'"

"We?"

That dangerous half-smile returns. "Well, I can't let you ruin Coffee Loft's image all by yourself."

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