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W hen Honor rolled over and cracked open an eye, the whirlwind events of the past day settled on her. She had really done it—left the man she once believed she would marry and drove to her sister’s place in Willowbrook to open a new chapter.

The exciting life awaiting her left a tingle in her belly, butterflies she embraced wholeheartedly.

She woke without an alarm or a schedule. Without a gnawing weight pressing on her chest. The golden light streamed through the sheer curtains and fell across the warm oak hardwood floor. The lightweight cotton sheet felt good draped across her body, but it was nothing compared to the fresh mountain air trickling through her cracked bedroom window.

Only one word came to Honor’s mind at this moment—peace.

She could tell by the position of the sun that she’d slept longer than she intended. Throwing out her hearing, she listened for signs of her sister still being in the house. But all was silent.

Even the street was quiet compared to the one she’d lived on with Sully, which always seemed to be bustling with activity. Eager to explore her new surroundings and visit her sister, who would be at work in her bookstore, Honor threw off the sheet and rolled out of bed.

The guest room that Felicity had made into a comfy haven for Honor’s arrival looked like a bomb had detonated. When she arrived, they hauled in most of her belongings, leaving only the crates of jewelry supplies in her van. Finding places for the bags and boxes scattered around would take some time, but she wasn’t going to do it now.

A slip of pink notepaper lay on her nightstand. At the bookstore—Felicity. Her sister’s neat cursive caught Honor’s eye and filled her with a hint of jealousy. Felicity always got the awards in school for good handwriting, while Honor got the pat on the back and was told to keep trying.

But the sight of that note warmed her.

She padded to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the old-fashioned oval mirror hanging above the pedestal sink, circa 1940s. The familiar messy tangle of her hair was nothing new. But that look on her face was.

She looked…relaxed.

Quickly, she piled her hair on top of her head to shower. Afterward, she let the mass tumble down her shoulders, fluffing the loose waves with her fingers. Then she slathered her skin in organic goat milk lotion in the most delicious lemon cake fragrance imaginable and added a smear of lip gloss.

In the bedroom, she unzipped the first bag she saw and pulled the dress off the top. One of her favorites because of how the loose cotton spattered with tiny flowers both flattered her figure and was completely comfortable for summer days just like this.

In the kitchen, she eyed the coffeemaker. She needed caffeine—desperately. But she grabbed her phone and shot Felicity a text message. Coffee run. Your usual?

Her sister’s response was immediate. Yes, please! You’re a gem. And the shop girls will love you forever if you grab some for them too!

With the texted order on her phone, Honor set off for the front door. She knew from the few times she’d visited Felicity that the walk from the house to the main street of Willowbrook was a short and pleasant one, so she left her van parked in the driveway and set off on foot.

She didn’t know her sister’s two employees, Mia and Rina, well, but they were always welcoming and warm, smelling of old books and the vanilla candles her sister liked to burn behind the counter.

The walk was just as enjoyable as waking up in a new place with her whole life before her was. The cool late-morning air kissed the skin of her bare arms. The streets were quiet as the small town woke up with a yawn and a stretch, but the birds were already busy at work collecting worms for their young or flitting around the shrubbery in front of picturesque homes.

This place was good for Honor. She could already feel it in her bones.

When she made the decision to leave Sully, she thought to live the van life, exploring the country as she created jewelry and built her business. But Felicity’s suggestion for her to come and stay with her had been exactly the thing she never knew she needed.

The coffee shop was only a couple blocks from the bookstore, nestled between a mom-and-pop drugstore and a junk shop that Honor couldn’t wait to explore.

With each step she took, she recited the drink order in her head. Triple espresso shot for Felicity. Oak milk lavender honey latte for Mia. Iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle for Rina. And vanilla almond milk cappuccino for me. Two pumps of vanilla.

When she pushed open the door of the coffee shop, the bell tinkled and the rich smell of coffee beans wrapped around her.

The older barista finished up another customer’s order and approached the counter with a smile for Honor. “Good morning.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Honor heard the bell on the door chime a few more times as people exited and entered the shop. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember the order. She rummaged in her vintage leather bag to locate her phone, pushing aside a dog-eared paperback and a few packets of beads she hadn’t yet filed away in her crates.

Behind her, she heard a low huff of annoyance but didn’t turn to see who was standing there. She was having a fantastic morning—she wasn’t about to let someone rain on her happiness.

“Here it is. The usual for Felicity.”

“Triple espresso shot. Got it. You must be the sister.”

She looked up with a smile. “That’s me. How did you know?”

“Word spreads in small towns. Besides, Felicity has been talking about you coming for a week. Welcome to Willowbrook.”

“Thank you.”

“What else can I get you, lovey?”

“Oak milk lavender honey latte for—”

The barista was already in motion, reaching for various cups. “Oh, for the bookstore ladies. I know the orders.”

“Where I came from, the city is too large for you to know anyone well, let alone remember something like a special drink order.”

“That’s Willowbrook for you. I hope you like it here. We can use some fresh young people in town.”

The gruff noise of a throat clearing sent a little ripple of awareness though her, but she didn’t glance over her shoulder at the person. She leaned on the counter and settled in for a small chat while the barista whipped together the drinks.

“Can I get anything for you?” she asked.

“Yes, please. A vanilla almond milk cappuccino. Two pumps of vanilla.”

“Jesus.” The rough voice from behind her made her want to laugh out loud. She couldn’t imagine someone being so annoyed by standing in line waiting for coffee on such a beautiful day in a wonderful little town like Willowbrook.

As she waited, she busied herself with reading various flyers and business cards on the counter. One in particular caught her eye . Summer Festival. Food. Music. Fun.

She wondered if there were any pop-up stores at the festival and asked the barista.

A low groan projected from the person behind her, but she ignored them and listened intently to all the barista had to say about the upcoming festival while already planning a pop-up store to sell her own jewelry.

When the barista pushed a drink carrier containing four drinks across the counter, Honor paid for it and thanked the woman. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of me in the future!”

“Have a good day, lovey.”

As she turned with the drinks in her arms, she slanted a sideways glance at the person behind her. Tall. Muscled. Probably one of those men who hated women just because they took up space in the world and didn’t step aside and let the man take the position of importance.

Someone totally opposite of Sully. Or what Sully had been before the years had begun to change him into a person she didn’t want to know.

She issued a sigh of relief that she no longer had to deal with that part of her life. It was truly over. She was ready to take on this brand-new world armed with that double-pump vanilla almond milk cappuccino.

* * * * *

Gray eyed the woman taking up the entire drink station. She operated at the pace of a snail out for a country stroll as she selected lids for the drinks she bought. Not only did she take far too long to find the right lids to fit the cups but she seemed to be color-coordinating them by choosing between white lids or brown.

Of course he got stuck behind this woman. All he wanted was a damn black coffee, and she wanted to chat about the town and the upcoming summer festival that didn’t take place for two more months. Who gave a damn about the festival anyway?

Worse was how he had to drink out of a cheap paper cup. The heat of the coffee was seeping through the thin paper. He should have just sucked down coffee at home, but he couldn’t find a travel mug among his sister’s collection.

Pink flowers. Butterflies. A giant scripted “But First, Coffee.” Yeah, no thanks.

Willow’s mug collection was out of control. Worse, it had taken over the entire shelf. The only mug large enough to hold a man’s cup of coffee and possessed a handle that a man could grip was always taken.

He and his brothers had been fighting over that mug all damn winter, and this morning he’d seen Carson walking to the office with it in hand.

Lucky bastard.

His gaze raked over the back of the woman who wore a dress with as many flowers as one of his sister’s mugs. The flowy garment fell almost to her ankles, and under the hem, a pair of brown leather sandals peeked out.

His stare latched on to her toenails, each painted a different shade of pink.

He wasn’t the only person in line behind her who noticed her choice of toenail polish. From off to the side came a, “I love your toenails!”

The woman looked around, a smile stretching her glossy lips. “Thanks. I love to get creative with my appearance.”

He let out a snort.

All he needed was a damn lid for his large coffee, but she wasn’t in any hurry at all.

This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out before he ran errands for the ranch. Instead, the line behind the woman was growing by the minute.

He scanned the drink station for the size lid he needed, ready to leap forward the minute the lady wrapped things up.

Exhaling sharply, he adjusted his stance. The coffee shop wasn’t big, and usually people got out of his way. He didn’t demand it, but most people knew the Malones. If they were in the shop, they weren’t ordering some fancy, fluffy drink with whipped cream and almond milk.

His siblings ribbed him about how he commanded a space. One of Willow’s favorite things to say was, “You walk into a room like you’re still in command, flyboy.”

Frustration mounted by the second while the woman talked to herself about straws—recyclable or plastic?—and generally drove him crazier.

When she stuck the straw into one drink—recyclable—and took a sip, he let his head drop back, staring up at the ceiling and praying to whatever higher power could make her hurry right now.

She set the coffee down and opened a sugar packet.

Gray stared at her in amazement as she opened packets and poured them into the drink and then stirred them at a maddening pace.

Unable to stand it a minute longer, he reached around her for a lid. Just then, she shifted to the side. Her elbow bumped his arm, and his hot coffee sloshed over the rim and down his fingers.

He gritted his teeth.

“Hm. Maybe one more,” she murmured to herself.

Whatever noise he made had her turning to look at him. Then she looked at his coffee. Black. Lidless. Dripping down his fingers.

Her gaze lifted to his, and he realized she was younger than he originally thought. Her eyes, wide and assessing, washed over him like she was picking him apart piece by piece.

Without a word, she plucked a lid off the stack and held it out to him.

“How do you know I don’t need cream?”

“You look like a black coffee kind of guy.” She started to turn back to her own drinks, and instead reached for a cardboard sleeve. “You might want this too.”

He frowned. “I don’t need—”

Her gaze flicked to his hand. “Your hands look really soft.”

He narrowed his eyes. Was he being punked? His brothers said that kind of shit to him all the time. They were Navy SEALs; he was a Navy pilot. They just loved to joke about his soft hands.

“Have you ever been to the Black Heart?” he blurted out.

Her arched brows furrowed. “Black Heart?”

“My family’s ranch.” He continued to study her, skeptical about her reaction. “Or met my brothers?”

Confusion stole over her features. “Nope. I’m new in town.”

That stopped Gray. New. It explained why in a town where everyone knew each other, she was unfamiliar to him, and why she hadn’t given him a wide berth when she saw him.

She grabbed a couple sugar packets, which made several bracelets circling her wrist clink together. She thrust the packets at him. “Here. You could use a little sugar in your life.”

He just stared at her. Then she flashed another easy, unbothered smile at him and returned to her own drinks.

He left the shop, coffee with the lid and the damn stupid little paper sleeve in his hand. Something about the whole exchange stuck with him as he strode down the sidewalk and jaywalked across the street to his parked truck.

She hadn’t rushed to get out of his way. She was completely unaffected by his presence.

And the way she looked at him… studied him…felt like she had figured out too much.

He jumped behind the wheel and set the coffee in the cupholder without even taking a sip of the drink he needed so badly only a few minutes before. Now, all he could think about was how he looked to the world. How he appeared on the outside.

Besides her insult about having soft hands, the woman told him that he needed a little sugar in his life. If she hadn’t met his brothers, she had to know Willow. His sister was always telling him to lighten up, which wasn’t far off from sweeten up.

He started the engine but sat there a minute longer, staring at the exit of the coffee shop. When the woman finally emerged, the mountain breeze caught her long wavy hair and the thin cotton of her dress and swished both around her body.

For the first time in a long time, someone had looked at him. Not as the rigid ex-pilot, not as the guy everyone counted on, but as a person.

And Gray wasn’t sure what to make of that.