Page 75 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start

She sighs and opens the top drawer of her nightstand, revealing at least a dozen completed needlework pieces, all featuring small dogs in various outfits and poses. A Corgi in a Santa hat. A Beagle wearing sunglasses. A Poodle with a tiny scarf.

“This is the most devastating thing I’ve ever discovered about you,” I tell her seriously.

“Devastating?”

“Devastatingly cute. I was prepared to fall in love with a fierce coffee shop owner who argues municipal policy. I was not prepared to fall in love with a girl who embroiders tiny dogs in formal wear.”

“They’re not all in formal wear.”

“You’re right. This one’s wearing a bikini.”

“That’s a summer outfit.”

“For a Yorkshire Terrier.”

“Yorkie fashion is very sophisticated.”

I set down the needlework and look at her—really look at her—standing in her bedroom in soft clothes with her hair down, surrounded by evidence of hobbies that involve tiny embroidered dogs and books with titles likeThe Billionaire’s Baby Secretand coffee equipment that probably costs more than most people’s cars.

“Michelle Lawson,” I say slowly, “you’re not at all who I thought you were.”

“Is that a problem?”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in fifteen years.”

She moves closer, reaching up to straighten my shirt collar with the kind of casual intimacy that suggests she’s already thinking of us as an established unit.

“So what happens now?” she asks.

“Now I help you fix that lighting fixture in your kitchen before it burns down the building.”

“That’s romantic.”

“Now I learn everything there is to know about needlework dog fashion.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Now I try to deserve this. Deserve you. Deserve the chance to build something that makes us both happy instead of just profitable.”

She kisses me again, longer this time, with the kind of certainty that suggests she’s made a decision about taking this risk.

“For the record,” she says against my lips, “I think you already deserve it.”

“Really?”

“Really. But you’re still fixing my lighting fixture.”

“Deal.”

“And you’re never telling anyone about the embroidery.”

“That’s going to be difficult. This is Twin Waves. Everyone’s going to want to know why I’m suddenly googling ‘tiny dog bow tie patterns.’”

“You’re not googling anything.”

“I might be googling things. For research purposes.”

“Research for what?”