Chapter 11
Clara brushed flour from her hands and leaned against the counter, watching the steady trickle of customers ebb as the afternoon rush finally waned. The hum of conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine, the scent of baked goods—it was her comfort, her rhythm.
Still, her mind wasn’t entirely on the shop.
It kept wandering back to him. Rowan.
She scolded herself for it, but every time her thoughts drifted, she found herself replaying their brief encounters—the way his gaze had lingered, steady and unshakable, like he was seeing more of her than she realized. His voice, low and rough-edged, still echoed in her head. And then there was that impossible sense of awareness that curled in her chest whenever he was near, like her body recognized him before her mind did.
It was ridiculous. She barely knew him.
“Earth to Clara.”
She blinked, jolting out of her thoughts as June appeared at her side, waving a hand in front of her face. “You okay? You’ve been zoning out so hard I thought you were about to start drooling.”
Clara huffed a laugh and reached for a rag to wipe the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
June arched a brow. “Mmhmm. Tired, or thinking about a certain tall, broad-shouldered stranger who keeps popping in here lately?”
Heat flared in Clara’s cheeks. “June.”
“What? I’m just saying, he’s been in twice this week. And unless he suddenly developed a caffeine addiction, I’d bet good money it’s not the lattes he’s after.”
Clara shook her head, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward despite herself. “He’s… different,” she admitted softly.
“Different how?”
Clara paused, trying to put it into words. “I don’t know. Like he carries… weight. Not just physically,” she added quickly when June smirked. “Like… presence. When he looks at you, it’s like the whole room fades.”
June let out a low whistle. “Girl, you are in trouble.”
Clara laughed, but unease rippled under her amusement. Because she was in trouble, wasn’t she? Trouble in the way her heart sped up whenever he was near. Trouble in the way her instincts whispered that he wasn’t just another customer, another stranger.
And yet, beneath that flicker of fear, there was something else. A pull she couldn’t explain.
The bell above the door jingled, pulling Clara from her thoughts. A gust of evening air followed the new arrival. For a split second, she thought it might be him, her pulse leaping—
But it was only a pair of regulars, laughing as they came in from the cool night.
Clara pressed her rag to the counter, forcing herself back into the rhythm of her work. She told herself she was being silly, that Rowan was just a man and she was just imagining the spark between them.
But as the shadows outside lengthened and the forest loomed dark at the edges of town, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was shifting around her. Something she couldn’t yet see.
And Rowan—whatever his intentions were—was right at the center of it.
