Page 17 of The Holiday Swap

Soon, the coffee shop came into view, but as she reached the front door, Cass realized there were no lights on inside. She checked her phone—6:08 a.m. The sign on the door said it opened at six o’clock every morning, except Sundays. Cass tried the door handle, but it was locked. She turned back to the street, looking up and down for another option—but all she could see was the disappointingly familiar Makewell’s logo—jaunty and art deco—shining bright on the front of a building directly across the street. What was worse was that there was a life-size cutout of Makewell’s founder, Sarah Rosen, grinning in the window. Cass had read about her in aForbesarticle—apparently she was a mere twenty-five years old and was well on her way to creating a global empire. The speech bubble above Sarah’s head said Makewell’s was “Famous because we’re that good!”

“What is it with this day?” Cass said, turning away from the image and the idea of Sarah Rosen trampling her family business, and leaning her forehead against the glass door. “I need coffee, damn it!”

Someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned, embarrassed that her caffeine-deprivation outburst had a witness. “Oh, morning,” she said to the amused-looking dark-haired man standing a couple of feet away. “Don’t bother,” she added, gesturing to the dark storefront. “They’re closed. And the only other optionis... unsuitable.” She glowered at Makewell’s storefront, then pulled out her phone and started walking away, planning to find another coffeehouse as quickly as she could.

“Charlie? Charlie Goodwin?”

She stopped and turned back. The man’s head was tilted and his expression was quizzical. He was wearing hospital-green scrubs, and a Cedars-Sinai Hospital ID badge hung from a lanyard around his neck.

“Hi there,” she said, trying to sound relaxed and like she had some idea who he was. She glanced again at his ID tag, hoping to catch his name, but it had flipped around. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he said. “But... how areyou?” He watched her intently, and Cass started to squirm under his gaze. Charlie hadn’t mentioned any medical professionals in her litany of people Cass needed to know or look out for. But this guy clearly knew who she was, and his worried expression was beginning to worry Cass. He took a step toward her and gave her a smile that showcased two perfect dimples.

“Charlie, it’s Miguel. Miguel Rodriguez? I treated you when you came to the ER the other day.”

“Right! Miguel!Of courseI remember you.” In truth, this Miguel would be hard to forget. Cass couldn’t believe Charlie hadn’t mentioned that the doctor who treated her was so gorgeous. “Sorry. I’m always a little foggy when I haven’t had my morning coffee. Just looking for a quick fix before I head to work.”

Now his expression grew more concerned. “I had recommended taking some time off. You’re heading to work today?”

Oh, damn it.“I’m feeling great, actually. And I hate to admit it, but I’m not the best at... following directions?” She smiled again, and he returned it this time; relief coursed through her, along withsomething else. Those dimples, full lips, perfect teeth, and eyes that could only be described as soulful were hard to ignore. Seriously, Cass? Get a grip. “Although I’d be feeling a lot better if these doors were open.”

“Me, too,” Miguel said. “And these guys alwayssaythey open at six, so I come here when I’ve got an early shift.” He leaned toward Cass, cupping a hand to one side of his mouth, as though sharing a great secret with her. “But one of the baristas has no appreciation for time or caffeine addicts, and today is his day to open, I guess.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve noticed that, too,” Cass said, nodding as though she was the commiserating Charlie who regularly frequented the Hive. “Every now and then this place has a dark morning. And, as you witnessed, it’s never less than devastating. Partly because I can never bring myself to go to Makewell’s.”

Miguel’s handsome grin deepened. “I hear you! Who wants baked-from-frozen muffins and terrible coffee? There’s no accounting for some tastes.” One last twinkle of those dimples. “So... you come here often?” He laughed and looked a bit sheepish. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Cass laughed as well, feeling altogether charmed. “I do. I have to be on set pretty early.”

“Well, I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before,” Miguel said. Cass couldn’t help but notice the way he said it, as if he would definitely have noticed her. Of course, he thought she was Charlie, but she was flattered regardless.

“But I shouldn’t be surprised that the famous Charlie Goodwin would come here. In my opinion, this place has the best cinnamon rolls and Danishes in L.A. And not a green juice or smoothie bowl on the menu.” He raised an eyebrow and Cass felt wobbly inside again, but this time it had nothing to do withexhaustion or a lack of caffeine. Not only was this guy after her own heart—she hadneverunderstood the obsession with unsatisfying liquid breakfasts—but he was also adorable.

“Right? My kingdom for a carb- and sugar-laden breakfast bakedfresh! Who can live on chia pudding and green smoothies?”

“It would be like only living half a life,” he said, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

“As a medical professional, though, shouldn’t you be highly invested in the superfood breakfast bowl movement?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Good thing I don’t work in the cardiac unit,” Miguel replied with a wink. “Besides, I was raised to be of the opinion that everything is okay, in moderation. If you don’t have the real thing once in a while, you’ll be miserable.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Cass said, then glanced at her phone. “I have to run. The transition from freshly showered to show-ready is not a quick one.”

Miguel chuckled, then held her gaze. “I think you look great.”

Cass’s breath caught and she stayed still, suddenly not wanting the moment to be over.

He cleared his throat, and seemed a touch embarrassed. “Also, I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to go to work. That’s great news.”

“Yes, good as new,” Cass said, becoming lost in his warm eyes again. Then her phone buzzed and she broke eye contact to glance at the text. Priya.

Where are you??

“It was nice to see you again, Miguel,” Cass said, holding up the phone. “But I really need to go. The makeup department is getting restless.”

“For sure. Don’t let me keep you,” Miguel replied, giving a small wave. “And say hi to Priya for me.”

“Oh, you know Priya?”

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