Page 17

I nod, watching as she heads back toward the front, stopping briefly to chat with Lucy before making her way out the door. The bell chimes softly as she leaves, and the room feels colder, emptier.

The burnt cupcakes sit forgotten on the counter, and I shove them into the trash with a frustrated huff.

Why did I even think I could pull off something sweet and celebratory when I’m still figuring out how to hold my own as a business owner?

Self-doubt claws at my chest.

If Clara, who’s practically a legend in Iron Ridge, can’t make it work anymore, what chance do I have?

My phone buzzes on the counter, and I reach for it without thinking. It’s a message from Logan.

"On my way. Can’t wait to see you."

A small smile tugs at my lips despite the turmoil in my head.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

As I busy myself back in the café, Logan’s presence soon fills the room the second he steps inside, his shoulders brushing the doorframe.

He heads straight for me, his long strides making my heart pick up speed. Before he reaches me, Lucy—who’s been lingering at the counter with not-so-subtle interest—clears her throat dramatically.

“Oh! Would you look at the time?” she sing-songs, already gathering her bag. “Guess I’ll just... go over there. You know. To my designated nosy friend spot.”

She winks at me, way too pleased with herself, and flounces off to her favorite armchair, book in hand.

Logan's hand automatically finds my hip. The touch is so natural, like he doesn’t even think about it, and it sends a pleasant shiver up my spine.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my shirt.

I nod, even though I’m still processing Clara’s news.

“Yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Logan studies me for a moment, then his eyes drift to the slightly crooked bookshelf beside the counter. Without a word, he reaches out and steadies it, tightening a loose screw with the pocket tool he always seems to have on him.

He’s always fixing things around here. Quietly. Without any fanfare whatsoever.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, not looking away from the shelf.

I hesitate, then let out a long sigh. “Clara just told me she’s selling Summit Café.”

That makes him pause. “Since when?”

“She just told me. Said she’s been thinking about it for a while and that it’s time to move on.” I twist my apron between my hands, fighting the urge to blurt out every thought racing through my brain. “She wants to travel. Try something new.”

Logan nods slowly, like he’s processing it. “That’s... big. You okay?”

I glance at the espresso machine, still sputtering from my earlier attempt to fix the steam wand.

“I don’t know. Part of me is relieved, but another part just feels... guilty for feeling that way.”

His fingers brush mine as he swarms me with his huge body. “You don’t have to feel bad about wanting your business to succeed, Emma.”

“I know. It’s just... Clara’s Summit. Always has been. What if Iron Ridge can’t handle just one coffee shop? What if people get tired of mine?”

Logan’s expression softens. “You’re worrying over nothing. You’ve built something real here. People love your coffee.”

Logan’s thumb strokes a slow, lazy pattern against the back of my hand, and I can’t help but lean into his touch.

“Besides,” he adds, that rare hint of a smile playing at his lips, “if people can put up with me as an Icehawk, they can definitely handle you.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and Logan’s bright blue eyes light up just enough to make my pulse jump.

Before I can respond, his gaze shifts to the pile of papers on the counter.

“What’s all this?” he asks.

“Oh!” I pull the top page free and hold it out. “Sophia called me earlier. Told me about the final task. It’s just... an idea, but I was thinking... what if we did something for kids? Like a story time event? ‘Tales from the Ice.’”

"I, uh, had other ideas. But go on…" Logan’s brow furrows in that way that means he’s thinking hard. “Story time? Kids?”

I nod.

“Yeah! We could set up a corner with cozy seating, do readings of stories and serve hot chocolate with marshmallows. Parents could tour the arena while the kids hang out with us like it's a small bookshop.”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a smile. “You want me to read to kids?”

I bite my lip, suddenly unsure. “You don’t have to. I just thought... you know, after seeing how good you were with Ben and Maddie. Plus, seeing the big, scary defenseman showing his soft side? People would eat that up.”

He huffs out a laugh, his hand finding my waist again. “You really think that’d work?”

“Yes!” I blurt out a little too loudly. “I mean, it could. Especially if we tie it into the coffee shop. Like, hockey-themed snacks and drinks. Maybe little mini Icehawk jerseys as giveaways for the kids.”

Logan’s hand slides up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb tracing just under my jaw. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

My face warms, and I can’t help the shy smile that pulls at my lips.

“It’s just an idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea.”

His voice is low, deep and sexy. And the way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flutter.

The ladder in the sports romance section wobbles as a customer knocks into it, and Logan’s attention shifts.

I clear my throat, heading over to fix it. He follows, steadying the base while I climb up to adjust the display of signed Icehawk pucks on the top shelf.

“Careful up there,” he murmurs, his hands lightly holding the ladder steady.

I glance down, and my breath catches when I see his eyes fixed on me—not just on me, but on the curve of my ass.

His pupils are blown wide, practically glowing with hunger. The sight sends a hot shiver straight through me.

“Logan,” I whisper, heart pounding.

“Yeah?” His voice is rough, almost feral, like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

His fingers brush against my calf, just enough to make my skin tingle.

I swallow, slowly starting to climb down, completely aware of the way his gaze tracks every inch of me.

When I’m on the last step, his hands slide up, catching my hips, his grip just firm enough to make me feel trapped in the best possible way.

I don’t dare breathe, caught in the heat of his stare. One of his hands tightens on my waist, and I swear I can feel the possessive energy radiating off him.

“Emma...” he breathes, voice low and dangerous, like he’s two seconds from snapping.

And God, I kind of want him to.

His fingers linger, tracing little patterns through the fabric of my shirt, and I feel my breath catch.

For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. His mouth is just a breath away, his hands warm and steady against my waist.

But the bell over the door rings, breaking the moment, and Mrs. Henderson bustles in, her knit scarf trailing behind her.

“Oh! Emma, dear! I need some romance novel recommendations for my book club tonight!”

Logan pulls back with a low growl, running a hand through his hair. I can’t help the little laugh that escapes me.

“Of course, Mrs. Henderson,” I say, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel.

Logan shoots me a look, one that promises this moment isn’t over.