Page 17

CHAPTER 17

NATE

The shrill ring of my phone yanks me from a particularly good dream involving snow-dusted black hair and warm lips. I fumble for my phone, squinting at the screen. Addy’s name flashes back at me, along with the ungodly hour.

“Someone better be dying,” I grumble into the phone.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Addy chirps, far too cheerful for this hour. “So, I had an interesting conversation with my favorite would-be niece this morning.”

I sit up, suddenly more awake. “Lottie called you? It’s seven in the morning. On a Sunday.”

“Oh yes. She was very excited to tell me all about Uncle Nate’s new friend, Caspian.” I can hear the grin in her voice. “Apparently, he said Lottie can help him pick children’s books to stock at Special Blend, so she’s excited about that. Oh, and you couldn’t stop looking at him during her party.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “How does she even notice these things? She’s seven.”

“Children are surprisingly perceptive,” Addy says sagely. “Also, according to Lottie, you were ‘making googly eyes’ at him. Her words, not mine.”

I groan, falling back against my pillows. “I was not making googly eyes.”

“Sure, sure.” Addy’s laugh fills the line. “But seriously, Nate, what’s going on? Last time we talked, you were adamant about keeping your distance from your cute neighbor.”

The memory of last night floods back—Caspian’s smile in the snow, the way he felt pressed against me, the soft sound he made when I finally kissed him. “Things changed.”

“Obviously,” Addy says dryly. “Come on, spill. What happened?”

“We kissed,” I admit, and my chest warms at the memory. “Last night.”

“Oh shit, did I interrupt… Is he there with you?” Addy asks in a rush.

“No, he’s not here.”

“Why not? Nathan Stone, I taught you better than this.”

I’m saved from answering by the distinct sound of a shovel scraping against concrete. I get up and move to my window, pulling back the curtain to see Caspian bundled in his too-light winter coat, clearing the fresh snow from the driveway.

Why is he wearing that when he has my coat? Is he trying to catch his death?

“Earth to Nate,” Addy sing-songs in my ear. “You went quiet. Is that the sound of you being distracted by your hot neighbor?”

“He’s out there shoveling snow again,” I say, watching as Caspian pauses to adjust his scarf. “In that ridiculous excuse for a winter coat.”

“Oh my god, you’re watching him through the window right now, aren’t you?” Addy’s delight is palpable. “This is amazing. I haven’t heard you this gone over someone since…well, ever.”

My phone buzzes with a notification, and I pull it away from my ear to check. “Shit, there’s a storm warning. It’s supposed to keep snowing for the next couple of days.”

“Perfect excuse to check on him,” Addy says. “Maybe offer to warm him up?”

“Goodbye, Addy,” I say firmly, but I’m already reaching for my warmest sweater.

“Use protection!” she calls out cheerfully before I end the call.

I dress quickly, pulling on my boots and heavy coat before heading outside. The temperature has dropped even farther overnight, and the snow is coming down steadily now. Caspian looks up as my boots crunch through the fresh powder, and his whole face lights up.

“Morning,” he says, slightly breathless from the exertion of shoveling. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold and snowflakes are caught in his dark eyelashes. It takes everything in me not to kiss him right there.

“You know,” I say instead, stepping closer, “normal people wait until the storm passes before shoveling. Where’s your coat?”

“I thought I’d get too hot. What storm?” Caspian pauses mid-shovel, looking up at me with confusion. “I’m just clearing the driveway so I can get out. I have a couple of orders to pick up for the coffee shop.”

“Caspian,” I say gently, “there’s a snowstorm warning. Nobody’s going to be out today. The whole town’s probably going to shut down.”

His face falls slightly. “Oh. I didn’t realize…” He looks down at his phone, pulling up the weather alert I’d seen earlier on mine. “Wow, that’s…that’s a lot of snow predicted.”

I step closer, unable to resist reaching out to brush some snow from his shoulder. “Welcome to Vermont winters. First big storm?”

“That obvious, huh?” He laughs, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “I should probably call Mac, figure out what the protocol is for days like this.”

“Or,” I say, my hand still resting on his shoulder, “you could come inside where it’s warm, and I can make you some coffee for a change.”

The smile he gives me is bright enough to melt snow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I take the shovel from his hands, propping it against the side of his house. “Besides, we should probably talk about last night.”

A blush that has nothing to do with the cold spreads across his cheeks. “Probably should.”

We make our way through the deepening snow to my front door. Inside, Caspian immediately starts shedding layers, and I try not to stare at the way his sweater rides up as he pulls off his jacket. “Your house is so warm,” he sighs happily.

“Wood stove,” I explain, hanging up our coats. “More efficient than regular heating, especially during storms.”

“So,” he says at the same time I go, “So…” We laugh awkwardly at our simultaneous start, and when I turn around, Caspian is leaning against my counter, looking both nervous and impossibly attractive in my kitchen.

“You first,” I offer, focusing on measuring coffee beans to keep my hands busy.

“I was actually wondering…” he starts, then pauses. I glance over my shoulder to find him fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “Would you show me your workshop? I mean, if that’s okay…”

The request catches me off guard. I’d been bracing myself for a conversation about last night’s kiss. “You want to see my workshop?” I ask, momentarily thrown by this unexpected direction.

“Yeah,” he says, straightening with renewed enthusiasm. “I’ve never met anyone who makes things by hand like that. Plus, after what Addy said about the bowls you made for her birthday when she came to Special Blend the other day…”

I feel my cheeks warm at his interest. “Let me get this coffee started first.”

While the coffee brews, Caspian tells me about his plans for the children’s book section at Special Blend, his hands moving animatedly as he talks. I watch the way his expressions shift, remembering how those same lips felt against mine last night.

“Here,” I say, handing him a steaming mug once the coffee’s ready. “Workshop’s through here.”

I lead him through the door connecting the kitchen to what used to be a garage. The space is organized chaos—tools hanging on pegboards, various pieces of wood sorted by type and size, and several projects in different stages of completion scattered across workbenches.

“Oh wow,” Caspian breathes, turning in a slow circle. “This is amazing.”

I watch as he gravitates toward a shelf displaying finished pieces—bowls, cups, and some decorative items. His fingers hover over a small maple box with intricate leaf patterns carved into the lid.

“You can touch,” I tell him. “Everything’s finished and sealed.”

He picks up the box carefully, examining the design. “You made this one too?”

“Yeah. That wood had been seasoning for months, waiting for the right project. The grain pattern reminded me of falling leaves, so it seemed fitting.”

“I love the pieces I’ve seen inside and Lottie’s gifts, but this is exquisite. You’re so talented.”

Caspian’s fingers trace the carved pattern, and something warm unfurls in my chest at the careful way he handles my work. He moves along the shelf, examining each piece with genuine interest, asking questions about the different types of wood and techniques.

“What’s this over here?” he asks, moving toward the back corner where my current project stands partially covered.

I hesitate for a moment before moving to join him. “It’s, uh… It’s actually something I’ve been working on recently.” I pull back the drop cloth, revealing the unfinished furniture. “A bookcase.”

“It’s beautiful,” Caspian says, running his hand along one of the smooth shelves. The maple wood is a light cream with smooth grain I’ve left intact along the sides. “The craftsmanship is incredible. These curves here…” He traces the organic line of the wood. “It almost looks like it grew this way naturally.”

I step closer, drawn in by his enthusiasm. “That’s the idea. I try to work with the wood’s natural grain pattern. Let it tell me what it wants to be.” I pause, gathering my courage. “It’s actually… It’s for you. For Special Blend.”

Caspian’s hand stills on the wood. He turns to face me, eyes wide. “What? But you said you don’t take commissions.”

“It’s a gift,” I explain quickly, suddenly nervous. “You said you wanted a bookcase for your book corner, and I thought… Well, I started working on it the night we went ice skating.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling heat creep up my face.

“Nate,” Caspian says softly, and when I look at him, his eyes are shining. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“It’s nothing, really,” I breathe, caught in his gaze. “I mean, I know you wanted one for the coffee shop, so…”

He moves closer, his hair slightly damp from the melted snow from our walk across the driveway.

The rest of my sentence disappears as Caspian closes the distance between us, his lips finding mine with startling urgency. His hands grip the front of my sweater, pulling me closer as my back hits the workbench. The kiss is different from last night’s—less hesitant, more demanding—and I respond in kind, one hand sliding into his hair while the other wraps around his waist.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Caspian’s eyes are dark, searching my face as if looking for answers to questions he hasn’t asked yet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on my sweater. “I just…you made me a bookcase…”

I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I did.”

“Nate,” he whispers. “I think I want to skip the talk about last night and go straight to what happens after.”