I’d texted Miles after he left that note on my truck with his number scribbled in loopy handwriting at the bottom.
He intrigued me. He was the kind of man who trimmed his beard regularly and probably separated his laundry into whites and colors. I wasn’t used to it, but maybe it was something I could be into.
I was used to guys with grease under their nails and dirt on their boots. Men who showed up rough around the edges, a little reckless and chaotic. But Miles? He was something entirely different.
We spent the entire night texting. We talked about everything from favorite movie quotes to what we believed actually lived in the ocean’s deepest trenches.
It was fun.
It was easy.
And it was the first time since coming back to Faircloud that something felt light.
Today, I was working the morning shift at Petal Pusher. Sandy was coming in later to cover the rest of the day so I could finish packing for the big move into my apartment this weekend. I was nowhere near ready—too many boxes left unpacked, not enough hours in the day.
Logan stopping by last night to help had been sweet.
Did he understand my wardrobe chaos? Not even close. But he was kind, steady, and surprisingly patient. And maybe it was my imagination, but I noticed the way his eyes lingered a little longer, which felt strange.
When his fingers brushed my skin while fixing the straps of my dress, a spark zipped up my spine.
He’d seen me in every state imaginable over the years. Butneverhad I felt that jolt—that pulse of electricity between us—until last night.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that spark after he left. I wondered what it meant, if I was imagining things with Logan.
He has been my best friend since I was eight.
I didn’t want to overthink it, but the thought of it being real brought on a sensation of comfort.
The shop door chimed, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Miles walked in.
He crossed the threshold carrying two coffee cups—one in each hand—and an easy grin on his face.
I set down the clipboard I was holding and smirked at him. “You need an extra pick-me-up today?”
And wow. His hands? They were huge.
“After staying up all night talking to you?” he said, stepping forward. “I figured you’d need the caffeine too.”
He offered me the cup, his fingers grazing mine as I took it—no spark.
“Well, wasn’t that nice of you,” I said, lifting the lid slightly and blowing.
One sip and I smiled. My favorite—exactly how I liked it. One of the many things we’d discussed last night, and he’d remembered.
“This is perfect, thank you.”
“When I ordered it, the barista asked if it was for you.” Miles leaned his hip casually against the counter.
I laughed. “Small town perks.”
“That, and the fact only one person in this whole ZIP code gets a blueberry coffee with cream and a shot of vanilla bean.” He grinned over the rim of his cup, that smug expression dancing in his eyes.
“You say that like it’s crazy,” I replied, raising a brow. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Well,” he said, grin deepening, “crazydoessuit you.”