Page 23 of Jessica's Hero
Is this really happening to me?
I’ve watched my friends with their partners, feeling quietly envious of their relationships, but I never really imagined myself finding the same thing. It’s been a wishful fantasy to find a man who would be there for me no matter what, but I never truly believed it would happen.
Not in Sleepy Hollow, at least. Maybe never.
But now…
I’m scared to hope. But I can’t help it.
“Okay,” I agree. “But you have to tell me, too. If something’s bothering you, or if you need something… It goes both ways.”
Kane blinks at me. Then his smile expands. “Okay, Jess. I will.”
We share another look, one filled with possibility and a magicalsomethingI can’t quite explain.
Everything else around us fades.
The buzzy chatter of the restaurant dims.
The ever present worries—Are people talking about me? Are they looking at my scars?—shift into the background.
In this moment, it’s just me and a man I’m quickly developing feelings for.
Or if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve liked him ever since the first time we met. We were at a charity event for the Sleepy Hollow first responders, and I bumped into Kane—literally—at the buffet table. I was looking down, my default when I’m around a group of people, and I ran right into him, knocking his plate of food to the ground.
I was mortified, but he didn’t even blink. He brushed aside my apologies, cleaned up the mess with a smile, and insisted on joining me to eat once he’d refilled his plateagain. We only ended up talking for about ten minutes before one of his friends came to find him, but in that time, my crush was born.
A silly, schoolgirl crush, I used to think. One that would never go anywhere.
But now?
Maybe, just maybe, it could end up being more.
“Coffee?” The server appears beside our table with a steaming coffeepot in hand. She gives me a cursory look before focusing all her attention on Kane. He’s easily the most handsome man in the diner—in all of Sleepy Hollow, in my opinion—so it’s not a surprise that she’s flashing a megawatt smile at him and fluttering her lashes hard enough to cause a small breeze.
“Would you like your regular, Officer Montague?” she asks with a hint of a purr in her voice. “I can ask the cook to bump your order to the front if you’re in a hurry.”
He gives her a polite nod in greeting. “Coffee would be good. But no to the rest. We’ll take two menus to look through. And—” He glances at me and smiles. “I’m not in a hurry. Not today.”
OH.
I think my heart just melted into a puddle on the floor.
With a little huff, our server drops two menus on the table. Then she fills the cups with fresh coffee and grumbles, “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
The next few minutes are occupied by scanning the menus—not that I don’t know what’s on there, but I still read through it every time—and placing our orders and pouring just the right amount of cream and sugar into my coffee. Nora always jokes that I make my coffee with theintensity of a gourmet chef, checking and tasting at least four times before deciding it’s right.
After I take my fifth sip of coffee, sighing with pleasure to discover it’s finally perfect, I look over at Kane to find him watching me with a bemused expression.
My cheeks heat. “I know,” I explain quickly. “It’s kind of ridiculous how long it takes me. Nora always makes fun of me for it. I’m not sure?—”
“It’s not ridiculous.” He gives me a soft smile. “I think it’s cute. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting your coffee to taste good. God knows, I’ve had enough terrible coffee to know the value of a really good cup.”
The band tightening around my chest eases. “Is it true, then? That the coffee at the police station tastes like mud?”
“Close to it,” he agrees. “I’m not sure why. We even took up a collection to buy a better coffeemaker, but it doesn’t seem to matter. It always tastes terrible.”
“I think I got it from my mom,” I say after a second. “Being so picky about my coffee. She used to be the same way. I remember when I was little she would make this big production out of it, and she’d keep the creamer in this little silver pitcher so it looked all fancy when she poured it. And she always bought sugar cubes, so she’d put them in one at a time with a special spoon. At the end, she’d give me a cube to suck on.”
