Chapter 3

The afternoon lull settled over Moonlight Brews, soft and heavy. Clara refilled the pastry case, sliding in a fresh tray of muffins, when the bell above the door rang.

She glanced up automatically, her practiced smile ready.

And froze.

The man who stepped inside didn’t belong here—not in the small town, not in her cozy shop with its mismatched tables and potted plants. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filling the doorway like he owned it. Blond hair caught the sunlight as he pushed it back, hazel eyes sweeping the room in a quick, assessing glance before landing on her.

Something in Clara’s chest tightened.

He wore a tailored suit that fit him too perfectly, crisp lines at odds with the casual customers scattered around the shop. But there was nothing pretentious in the way he carried himself. No, this man carried strength like it was second nature, an authority that came not from his clothes, but from something deeper.

He walked toward the counter, and Clara’s heartbeat stuttered.

“Coffee,” he said, his voice smooth, low, threaded with command. “Black.”

Clara blinked, her hands moving almost on instinct. She poured the coffee, trying not to notice how the air seemed to shift around him, heavier somehow, charged. When she slid the cup toward him, their fingers brushed.

Her breath caught.

A spark, sharp and strange, raced up her arm. She pulled back too quickly, her cheeks warming. He didn’t flinch, but his gaze sharpened, studying her as if she’d just done something impossible.

Clara cleared her throat. “That’ll be—”

He slid a bill across the counter before she could finish, far more than the price of the drink.

“I don’t have change for—”

“Keep it.”

Her brows lifted, but she tucked the money into the register. Something told her he wasn’t a man who cared about small details like exact bills and coins.

Still, she couldn’t resist. “You know, you’d save a lot if you ordered like everyone else. Loyalty cards, punch ten get one free.”

For the first time, his mouth curved, just slightly. A ghost of a smile. But his eyes stayed intense, watching her with unsettling focus.

“I’m not like everyone else,” he said simply.

Clara swallowed, trying to find her footing. “Clearly,” she murmured, and instantly wished she hadn’t.

But his smile grew, faint amusement flickering there before he lifted the cup and took a slow sip.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with something Clara couldn’t name. The background hum of the shop seemed to fade, the world narrowing to just him and her.

Then the door jingled as another customer entered, breaking the moment. Clara blinked, realizing she’d been staring. She forced herself back into motion, greeting the newcomer, taking their order.

When she looked back, the man was still there. Still watching her.

And somehow, Clara knew—though she couldn’t explain how—that this was the beginning of the change she’d been waiting for.