Chapter 7

The morning rush had just started when the bell above the door chimed.

Clara looked up, her practiced smile already in place, and nearly dropped the cup in her hand.

He was back.

The stranger from yesterday stepped inside, the sunlight catching on his blond hair as he moved with that same effortless authority that had unsettled her before. His gaze swept the shop, steady and piercing, before landing on her.

Clara’s breath caught.

He wasn’t dressed in the sharp suit this time. Today, he wore a dark henley and jeans, casual but no less commanding. If anything, the simplicity made him even more striking—less untouchable, more dangerously real.

Marcy, wiping down the counter beside Clara, gave a low whistle. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath. “Do we have a new customer? Please tell me he’s single.”

Clara shot her a look, cheeks warming. “Don’t start.”

But her own pulse had already betrayed her, quickening as he crossed the room.

He stopped at the counter, his hazel eyes locking on hers with unsettling intensity. “Coffee,” he said, just as he had the day before. “Black.”

Clara nodded, her hands steady only because she willed them to be. She poured the cup, sliding it toward him. Their fingers brushed again, and the same spark jolted up her arm. She sucked in a quiet breath, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But he had. She could see it in the way his gaze lingered, sharp and searching, as though he was measuring her reaction.

“That’ll be two fifty,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

This time, he handed her exact change. A faint curve touched his lips, like he’d done it on purpose.

Clara swallowed hard, trying to busy herself with the register. “You… passing through?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“No.” His answer was clipped, certain. “I’ll be around for a while.”

Something about the way he said it made her heart stumble. Around. For a while. The words sounded less like a casual statement and more like a promise.

Behind her, Marcy pretended to fuss with the pastry case, but Clara could feel her friend’s attention locked on them, waiting for every word.

Clara cleared her throat. “Well… welcome back, then.”

He didn’t move to leave. He lingered, his gaze sweeping the shop as though cataloging every detail before returning to her. The intensity of it made Clara’s pulse thrum in her ears.

Finally, he nodded once, slow and deliberate. “See you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he turned and left, the bell chiming behind him.

Clara stood frozen, her hand still curled around the edge of the counter.

Tomorrow.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a possibility. It was certainty, spoken like a vow.

Marcy nudged her with an elbow, wide-eyed. “Okay. Who is that guy?”

Clara’s lips parted, but she had no answer. All she knew was that her world had shifted again, and she didn’t know whether to be terrified… or thrilled.