Page 2 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

Quickly, I straighten to face him, pulling my long coat down to where it reaches the top of my thighs. My cheeks flush. What did I expect? I should have been a little more discreet in checking out my own butt in front of a man I just met.

The man clears his throat and fidgets slightly with his hands, cracking a few of his knuckles before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His clean pants show no signs that he’s been sitting in any puddles or snowbanks today.

Good for him .

“I really don’t mind going in there and getting you a refill.

Seriously, the coffee’s on me.” His smile turns wry.

“Well, actually it’s on you.” He laughs, his voice a deep timbre that comes straight from his core, warming mine in return.

The smile he casts on me is sunny, washing my face in beams of light while his laughter is genuine and kind, making it feel as if we’ve been friends for a long while.

There’s something familiar about that smile paired with his laugh, but I can’t seem to recover any memory of this person.

“Good one,” I look away from him as I feel my cheeks warming again, chuckling at his joke.

This might be his attempt at flirting, or he might be simply trying to lighten the mood after I’ve embarrassed myself.

Either way, he’s probably a tourist, so it’s not like I’ll ever be seeing him again.

After living in the same small town my entire life, I think I would recognize him if he were a local.

Everybody knows everyone in Maple Lake, and people are moving away rather than moving in.

I would definitely remember a man like him if I had seen him before.

Why should I care if one stranger sees me looking like a complete fool?

“Joking aside, I’d love to help make your day a little better,” he continues. “What did you order?”

I gape at him. Is he really insisting on getting me coffee? I thought he was just being kind while expecting me to say no thank you . I blink and sober enough to tell him my order because I have completely lost control of my brain and I don’t know what else to do or how to refuse.

“White chocolate mocha with oat milk.”

“Perfect, I’ll be right back… Unless you prefer to come in?”

“I’d rather not be seen like this,” I say.

He smiles and walks backward toward the café, keeping an eye on me like I’ll turn around and bolt any second. “Don’t go anywhere. ”

I don’t move, although I might be considering it, if I’m being honest.

After a moment, he walks back to me and reaches for the empty cup I’m still clutching in my hand.

I allow him to take it and he walks back to the door, tossing the cup in a trashcan as he steps inside.

I stare dumbfounded as he retreats, watching his solid, muscular frame disappear as the door swings shut behind him.

When he’s no longer in view, I shake my head to release myself from the trance I’m in, again wiping my hands down my jeans and peacoat. I make a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners on Monday after work because they’re closed on the weekends.

Since my work shifts start early, I’ll have to remember to put it in my car Sunday night.

And, knowing myself, I’ll probably forget all about it if I don’t make a note of it now.

I pull my phone out of my coat pocket—happy to find that it’s dry—and open the notes app.

I type “put dirty coat in car for dry-cleaners” on my list of things to do on Sunday in preparation for a new week.

I’m a list person, a note taker, and a chronic organizer. It’s the only way I can juggle work and school and still have a meager life that I can somewhat enjoy between all the chaos.

Stepping away from the spot where I fell, I glance in both directions down the sidewalk.

I pull my hair free from the tangle around my neck as the wind blows over my face.

I’d usually have a scrunchy with me, but when I dress up like I did today, I keep it in my purse, which is in my car that’s parked around the side of the building.

It isn’t very busy outside of the café at the moment, but I wonder how many people had front row seats to my battle with winter through the café windows.

Clearly, winter won, one to nothing, so I’m hoping the audience was minimal .

I spot my best friend and neighbor, Aliana, through the window.

She’s staring at me with an amused look on her face, her almost-black hair hanging in ringlets around her bronze face.

Smiling awkwardly, I raise my hand, giving her a subtle wave.

Ali points at me with a knowing smirk, then points her finger toward the door where the man who helped me had entered the café, waggling her dark eyebrows behind her wide rimmed glasses in a suggestive manner.

My sweet friend isn’t a town gossip like the older folk tend to be, but I know she’ll be asking for a good story later.

I look down at myself, then back at her and shrug.

Her bright red lips form into a pout and she mouths “sorry” before blowing me a kiss and turning back to her Saturday morning date with her boyfriend, Trey.

I let out an exasperated sigh and turn away from the window.

There’s really no use in trying to wipe at my clothes anymore because, honestly, it’s just spreading the mess around.

The sound of the door opening causes me to look up.

The super-cute-stranger-whose-name-I-still-don’t-know uses his booted foot in lieu of his hands to hold open the door, and he comes toward me with two cups in hand.

“I asked specifically for lid stoppers… just in case. Although I don’t think it’ll help much if you fall like that again.

” He winks while he hands one of the cups to me, making my stomach flip.

There’s something about the way he looks at me, like he knows a fun secret or holds some inside joke that I’m not privy to.

It’s both flustering and intriguing, sparking my interest in who this man is.

But that smile . Is there really a twinkle in his eye, or am I just being blinded by his shining armor? For goodness sake, you would think a guy who looks and acts like this would have a white steed somewhere close by. I’m almost tempted to look around for it .

But I digress. Tourists come to our town on fun trips away from the city, using it to relax and unwind from the stress of their real lives. He’ll probably be gone by the end of the weekend and I’m in no position to start flirting with a stranger. He might even have a family or a girlfriend.

“You didn’t have to do this, but I really appreciate it.

Thank you,” I say, shoving my phone back into my pocket and quickly reaching both hands out to gently take the hot cup.

Our fingers brush ever so slightly as I take it from him.

His hands are warm and I can tell from the roughness that he must do some kind of manual labor. Maybe he works in construction?

Or he’s a lumberjack if his boots and plaid coat are any indication. Either is perfectly acceptable.

There’s a flutter in my chest, and I press my lips together in fear of those dang butterflies escaping.

“I’m sorry, I realize I haven’t even asked your name. I’m Juliet, but you can call me Jules; most people do.”

As I hold the coffee cup close to my chest, its warmth wafts up to my face, chasing away the bitter wind. It feels amazing and I welcome the heat as it causes my cold fingers to tingle.

He looks down at his coffee for a beat, then meets my eyes again, his smile never looking anything but friendly. “I’m Cameron,” he says. He starts to speak again, and I think he’s going to say more about himself, but he hesitates.

The wind blows wisps of hair into my face, and I push them back aggressively while rolling my eyes playfully.

Stupid wind. Now is not the time for your games.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jules.” Cameron holds his coffee in one hand while the other slides casually into the pocket of his jeans. “I’d love to keep you talking, but I’m sure you’re in a rush to change into something warm. ”

“Right,” I search for what to say, but end up tripping over my own tongue in the process. “Yes, I should get home and change. It was nice to meet you… Cameron. Thanks again for the rescue… and the coffee.” I raise the cup like it’s a prize.

“Anytime. I’ll see you around, Jules.” With a bearded smile still in place, Cameron turns and heads toward what I assume is his black truck parked across the street.

I make my feet turn in the opposite direction, willing my eyes not to glance back and watch him as he walks away.

There’s no way I can sit in the library dressed in this, so I head to the side of the building, slide into the driver’s seat of my little red Honda Civic, and throw it in reverse as quickly as I possibly can.