Page 10 of Mine For The Winter

A smile quirked his lips. “Dolores, you look more beautiful than ever.” He had no idea how old she was, though she had to be past sixty. But she had one of those smooth faces that never really aged.

Before he could say anything else, Dolores lifted the counter flap and bustled through to pull him into her arms. At six-three he towered over her. He could remember a time when they were all scared of Dolores.

Now it felt like cuddling a teddy bear.

“What can I get you?” she asked, patting his cheek. “You look tired, honey. Don’t they make good coffee in London?”

He shook his head and that made her smile again.

“I’ll have an Americano, please.”

“Cream, no sugar, right? Or have you changed your order since you left?”

“You remembered.” He needed the caffeine hit. Just in case he decided to do what he’d come here to do.

“You drinking here or would you like it to go?”

“I’ll take it to go.”

While Dolores filled the machine with coffee, he looked around the café. There were a few early birds at the tables. And a few more workers who’d come in behind him to get their start-of-the-day caffeine hit. He knew from experience that the tourists wouldn’t arrive until later. Those who were staying at the Inn would be eating breakfast in the restaurant, and the ones who came for the day wouldn’t arrive for a few more hours.

This time of day was for the locals. The ones heading for work, clearing the roads, and serving food to the tourists. He used to savor it when he was a kid.

It was funny how quickly the memories came back. He’d spent the last decade trying to forget this place existed.

But it had been here all along, waiting for him.

Five minutes later he was walking into the square, a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand, a bag with a muffin in the other – courtesy of Dolores, even though he insisted he didn’t want anything. He reached a bench and dusted the snow off of it, shrugging off his jacket and putting it between his ass and the wooden slats so his jeans wouldn’t get wet.

A car pulled up about twenty feet away from where he was sitting. He looked over, taking in the rusty hunk of junk that was coughing out exhaust into the cold air, and his heart slammed against his chest because he knew exactly who it belonged to.

It was the kind of death trap Kelly had always driven.

The door opened and sure enough she climbed out. She was wearing a cream padded coat and brown boots that hit just below her knee. Her hair was flowing out over her shoulders, tamed only by a wool hat she’d pulled over her ears.

She hated being cold. He could remember that. All those times he’d built a fire in his cabin to stop her from shivering. Or leant her his coat because her own wasn’t enough.

He shifted, lifting his cup to his lips and checked the time. It was almost seven. Too early for her to be opening. But she pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and slid one into the lock on the tavern door, but instead of turning it she suddenly froze.

And slowly turned to look at him.

Had she sensed he was there? Was it weird that he hoped she had?

Her eyes caught his, but there was no expression of surprise on her face. So she knew he was back. That wasn’t a surprise. The grapevine worked hard in Winterville.

Her lips parted and he could see her breath hit the air. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Creamy skin and doe eyes that he hadn’t been able to forget no matter how far he’d run. He couldn’t see the color from here but he could pick it out from a chart if you asked him to.

Brown with hazel flecks. And just one blue fleck in her right eye.

Sure, she was older. He was too. But she wore it better. Keeping his gaze steady, he took another sip of his coffee.

Then instead of opening the door, she pulled the key from the lock and turned on her heel, her eyes narrowing as she hurried across the road toward him.

Damn, she looked furious. And she should. He took a deep breath, readying himself for the onslaught.

4

“So, you’re back.” The words escaped her lips before she could appreciate the stupidity of them. He was lounging on a bench drinking coffee and watching her. But she had to say something because she wasn’t going to let him win this staring match.

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