Page 2 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

The spark.

That undeniable zing of chemistry, wrapped in annoyance and low-level mutual disdain. The kind of look that screamed: We are absolutely going to ruin each other’s lives, aren’t we?

The door shut behind him, leaving only the faintest scent of burnt coffee and trouble.

Hazel walked over, balancing a tray of perfectly wrapped lavender scones and shaking her head. “Ruby,” she said, amused. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

“I don’t know, Hazel,” I said, eyes still locked on the door. “But I’m guessing he’s not a hugger.”

She laughed softly. “That’s Dr. Damien Cole. Heart surgeon. Billionaire. Former big city bad boy. Moved here last year. Keeps to himself.”

I blinked. “Wait. That Damien Cole? The guy renovating the old Hawthorne estate?”

Hazel nodded. “The very one. He donated a whole wing to the town clinic, and rumor has it he’s one of the judges for the Business of the Year award.”

My mouth fell open. “Of course he is.”

Of course, the one man I managed to douse in coffee this morning was the same man who might determine whether I finally get taken seriously.

I grabbed the tray of scones with a sigh. “Well, this should be fun.”

Hazel patted my arm. “Ruby, I have a feeling you and Dr. Cole are going to get very…familiar.”

I didn’t respond.

Because deep down, I had that same, horrible feeling too.

…

I shoved open the door toRuby Bloomwith my hip, balancing the box of lavender scones and pretending I hadn’t just coffee-bombed Cedar Springs’ most eligible grump. The little bell overthe doorway jingled like nothing in the world was off-kilter, which felt downright rude given my current emotional state.

Hazel stood behind the counter, arranging a tray of mini succulents into a heart-shaped pattern. I was about to comment on her overachieving plant feng shui when she looked up and smirked.

"Well, if it isn’t the floral assassin herself," she said, hands on hips. "How’s your victim?"

"Moody. Impeccably dressed. Still not a fan of hot beverages or small talk." I set the box down with more force than necessary and wiped a stray smear of frosting off my cheek. “And annoyingly symmetrical. I mean, who looks that put together at eight a.m.? It’s unnatural.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know, Ruby. I’m starting to think you liked what you saw under that latte."

I threw her a look. “Oh, please. The man practically had steam coming out of his ears. I spilled one overpriced drink and suddenly I’m on his hit list.”

“Well,” she said, reaching for a peony that had drooped slightly in the display, “in his defense, you did baptize him in vanilla bean.”

“An accident,” I said. “A very unfortunate, very caffeinated accident.”

Hazel gave a dramatic sigh and tossed a bloom into the compost bin. “At least you’ll never see him again.”

I snorted. “Hazel, I live in Cedar Springs. You know what that means?”

She raised both brows.

“Everyone knows everyone. And now everyone will know me as the girl who scalded the town recluse with an oat milk latte.”

She chuckled. “Better than that time you tripped and landed in the mayor’s birthday cake.”

“That was one time.”

“It was three,” she corrected.

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