Page 3 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

STUMBLE WITH FLAIR

Sophia

I wrap my hands around the warm coffee cup, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

The rich, bittersweet taste dances across my tongue, waking me up in ways that Sage’s herbal tea definitely couldn’t.

I inhale deeply, savoring the rich aroma, feeling the caffeine gently nudge away the lingering fatigue from my spontaneous escape.

My eyes drift lazily around the coffee shop, absorbing the quaint charm. It’s exactly what I need right now: caffeine to recharge before heading to Sage’s beach house. As I lift my cup again, I gaze at a tall figure leaning casually against the counter.

My breath hitches slightly. How did I miss him earlier?

He’s tall and lean but athletic, dressed in understated running clothes. Tousled brown hair catches the early sunlight streaming through the windows, highlighting streaks of honey gold. He must be in his late thirties, at most.

How unfortunate for me.

He’s holding a coffee mug but definitely not paying attention to his drink. Instead, his eyes — clear, focused, and unnervingly attractive — are fixed directly on me.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I quickly glance away, my heart suddenly thumping loud enough I’m convinced the entire café can hear it.

“Subtle, Sophia,” I mumble quietly into my coffee.

I see him straighten from the corner of my eye. Suddenly, he moves toward me, confident at first but abruptly stumbling as his sneaker catches on a loose tile. His arms flail wildly as he tries to catch himself, eyes wide in shock and embarrassment.

“Oh my gosh!”

I instinctively jump up, arms outstretched, but he regains balance at the last second, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic collision. Instead, he lands awkwardly beside my table, cheeks flushed bright red. The entire coffee shop goes suspiciously quiet.

“Are you —?”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” he blurts quickly, laughing awkwardly. “Nothing bruised but my ego. And possibly my knee.”

I laugh softly, instantly relaxing at his easy charm despite the chaos of his arrival. “Well, if you need ice, I imagine there should be some in the back.”

He smells of early fall and coffee; the combination closes the distance faster than his apology, and for one dizzy second, I wonder whether he can hear my pulse banging in my ears.

He shakes his head, grinning sheepishly. “I’m Ethan. Clearly, gracefulness is my superpower.”

I smile. “Sophia. Professional coffee drinker, and apparently a magnet for dramatic entrances.”

He laughs again, tension melting from his shoulders. He glances toward the empty chair across from me, hesitating.

“Would you like to sit?” I offer, waving toward the seat invitingly.

“Yes, thanks,” he says gratefully, settling across from me with a relieved sigh. “Standing seems to be risky business for me today.”

“Maybe you should stick to safer hobbies.”

He chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Good advice. Though usually I’m less clumsy, I promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I joke, taking another slow sip of coffee. The ease between us surprises me — pleasant, comfortable, and thrilling. Certainly unexpected.

“So, you’re Sage’s niece?” He lifts an eyebrow curiously.

“Wait, how did you —?”

“Oh,” he interrupts quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I overheard you telling Lucas when you ordered. But just so you know, small-town gossip travels faster than Wi-Fi.”

I laugh openly at that. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Sage always warned me that there are no secrets here.”

“None at all. But it’s not all bad. Sometimes, people knowing your business means they actually care.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of dramatic entrances.”

“More dramatic than today’s?”

“Oh, today’s performance definitely ranks in my top three,” he admits with an exaggerated grimace.

I giggle softly, a fluttering warmth spreading through me. It’s easy with him — easy to laugh, easy to talk.

He leans forward slightly and gazes thoughtfully yet playfully. “So, Sophia, what brings you to our little corner? And out of tourist season, no less!”

I grin, shaking my head lightly. “I’m on a bit of a spontaneous journey. You know, soul-searching, existential crises — the usual.”

“Ah. The classic mid-life adventure. But you seem too young for that!”

Our eyes meet again, lingering this time. His gaze feels inviting and curious, stirring something unexpected in my chest. What can I say to that? I’m too old for you?

He notices my hesitation. “Ok, what do you do when you’re not rescuing strangers from embarrassing falls in coffee shops?”

“I’m an interior designer,” I reply, tracing the rim of my mug thoughtfully. “Currently between contracts, though. Hence the trip to Bluewater Cove out of season.”

“Interior designer? That’s impressive,” Ethan nods appreciatively, genuine curiosity lighting his eyes. “So, you make rooms pretty, or is there more to it?”

I laugh softly.

“I used to breathe life into forgotten houses — peel away decades of bad decisions and find original moldings hiding underneath. It felt like rescuing history.”

Across from me, Ethan’s brows lift. “You flipped old houses? That’s incredible. Ever think about doing it again?”

I give a small laugh. “Honestly? Every time I walk past a boarded-up Victorian. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to land in my lap.

” I swirl the foam in my cappuccino, remembering the thrill of those first projects.

“Things started simple — make a room beautiful and move on. Now it’s spreadsheets, budget battles, convincing clients that neon-green wallpaper is a crime against humanity, and assuring them their house isn’t haunted, it’s just terrible lighting.

I miss the creativity from the beginning. ”

Ethan chuckles, knocking lightly against the sugar jar as he leans closer. “What felt different back then?”

“The blank slate,” I say, feeling the old excitement flicker. “No committees, no stakeholders — just me, a toolbox, and pure vision. Every creak in the floorboards sounded like a secret begging to be told.”

He nudges my saucer with a fingertip. “Sounds like you’re one sagging porch away from diving back in.”

“Maybe,” I tease, tapping his knuckle with my stir stick. “Find me that porch and we’ll talk.”

His grin spreads, just as the espresso machine lets out a triumphant squeal. “Challenge accepted. You deserve a project that lights that spark again.”

I meet his gaze over a swirl of latte foam, warmth settling in my chest. “Careful, Ethan. I might actually hold you to that.”

“That’s the plan,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I’m counting on it.”

I chuckle. Wouldn’t it be nice to find a project like this in Bluewater Cove?

“What about you? Any special talents besides stumbling gracefully into coffee shops?”

“Software engineer. Mostly freelance, which is a fancy way of saying I spend far too much time in sweatpants arguing with my laptop.”

I grin, imagining Ethan at home, hair messy, in front of a fancy computer set-up. “So, the glamorous pajama life, huh?”

“Exactly,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Though sometimes, it’s nice to escape the computer screen and interact with actual humans.”

“Actual humans? Bold choice. We’re complicated creatures, you know. Full of questionable decisions and unpredictable coffee shop tumbles.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, amused. “Speaking from recent experience?”

I gasp, placing a hand dramatically over my chest. “Are you accusing me of attracting drama? I saved you, remember? I’m practically a hero.”

He nods solemnly, lips twitching into a smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’m eternally in your debt. Should I get a cape made for you, or do heroes prefer crowns?”

“Definitely a cape. Crowns tend to slip, and we can’t have more accidents.”

Ethan’s eyes linger on mine, the playful spark softening into something sweeter, deeper.

Why is this so easy?

“So, interior designer-slash-hero, how long do you plan to grace our little town with your presence?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure yet. Long enough to figure out what’s next, or at least until the town runs out of coffee.”

He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “Well, we have plenty of coffee here, so you might have to stay a while.”

“Careful. That sounds suspiciously like an invitation.”

His eyes sparkle with humor, but there’s a sincerity beneath it. “Maybe it is.”

I take the last sip of my coffee, noticing it’s grown lukewarm. Ethan watches with quiet amusement as I set my cup down. “Well, I should probably let you get back to your pajama-clad negotiations,” I tease lightly.

He chuckles. “And I wouldn’t want to interrupt your existential crisis.” He pauses, considering something. “But maybe we could continue this conversation sometime?”

“I’d like that,” I say softly, standing and gathering my things. “Thanks for the company, Ethan.”

“Anytime,” he replies, genuine warmth in his eyes. “See you around, Sophia.”

“Count on it,” I say, leaving the coffee shop with a smile that stays long after the door closes.