She’d laughed about the name of the coffee shop ever since she saw it her first night in town. But if the name wasn’t entirely creative, the inside of the place definitely was. Leather couches in shades of green and purple and yellow, high espresso-colored tables with red-topped stools. And classic movie posters in black frames along the walls.
Best of all, it overlooked the picturesque river that cut through town.
“Sugar cubes don’t have caffeine, my friend.” Seth propped a lid on his cup and turned, hip leaning against the counter, to face Ava. “I need my caffeine.”
And he probably did. Faint smudges of purple under his eyes, shadowed cheeks proving he once again hadn’t bothered to shave, hair that curled over his ears and reached his collar were proof of a schedule that couldn’t last. Between the restaurant and apartment renovations, the man was working fourteen-to-sixteen-hour days.
But so far today, he’d successfully resisted the urge to check in on the restaurant. After they’d finished their first coat of paint—she was still convinced it was the wrong color—they’d decided to stop by the furniture store. Maybe pick out a couch.
Coffee Coffee was conveniently on the way.
“Anyway, you were talking about Maddie.”
It wasn’t only the town she’d adjusted to in the past couple weeks but also the idea of Maddie. The proposal. The label Friends Only she’d finally written in figurative permanent marker on her relationship with Seth.
Never mind that, even exhausted and overworked, the man somehow perked every girlish nerve in her to all-too-aware attention. Never mind that she couldn’t get over the way he treated his customers and employees and friends and family—as if each one had his full and considerate attention. She’d seen him slip Shan a baseball glove when he thought no one was watching—“For Joey, for Little League. Tell him it might look old, but that’s just because it’s broken in.” She seen him spend forever listening to Raegan talk about whether she should add green or orange streaks to her hair next and pull his friend Bear aside at church last week to apologize. For what, she had no idea. But Bear did. All Seth had had to say was “sorry” and the guys had fist-bumped and moved on.
Seth held the door open for her now, and she stepped into the hazy cool of the late July day.
Never mind any of that—nor the nights of hours-long conversations she and Seth had shared over the past two weeks. Or the emails they continued to exchange even though they currently slept under the same roof. Friends. Friends only.
Seth emerged from the coffee shop to stand in front of her. “What?”
Was she staring? Ava blinked. “Just regretting my coffee choice. Humidity and hot drinks don’t mix.” Might be cool out today, but low-slung, pudgy clouds trapped air so thick it clung to her skin.
Seth lifted his focus upward. “Yeah, we’re in for rain soon. C’mon, let’s cut across the square.”
She walked in step with Seth as they crossed Main Avenue and reached the square. “Back to Maddie.”
Seth swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Oh, we don’t have to keep talking about that. I probably sound stupid, trying to come up with the perfect proposal.”
“I don’t mind brainstorming with you.”
Seth paused on the sidewalk that slanted across the square. “Really?”
“We’re friends, Seth. Friends talk to each other about stuff that’s going on in their lives.”
The breeze played with his hair. “Yeah, but you and I . . . We’ve talked about a lot of things, Ave, but very rarely this.” He started walking again. “I mean, in a full year’s worth of emails, you never mentioned going on dates.”
“Maybe I never go on dates.”
He snorted. “Right. The girl who could wear a potato sack to a wedding and still outshine the bride.”
She was the one to stop now. “Seth.”
He took a swig of his coffee. “I’m just saying, Ave, you might dress in jeans and a T-shirt and never wear your hair down and talk about how you’re a football-loving tomboy, but you’re also very much an attractive woman, and any man would be blind not to see it, and maybe that’s a weird thing for one friend to say to another, and now I think I might be rambling because I’m embarrassed that I said it. But whatever. It’s the truth.”
He started moving again as a gust of wind chugged through the square, rustling through tree branches and sending the clouds overhead rolling. But he must’ve sensed that she wasn’t following because he stopped once more and turned. “Coming or what?”
Ava took two steps forward to meet him, the first drops of rain dotting the sidewalk beneath her. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Saying nice things.” The tantalizing aroma of her chai swirled into the smell of oncoming rain.
“You’re an easy person to say nice things to.” He shrugged, then blinked when a raindrop landed on his cheek. “And you do go on dates, don’t you?”
“Sometimes. First dates, anyway.” More splatters, this time slicking over her bare arms.
“No seconds?”
“Rarely. But don’t read into that. Just haven’t met anyone I ever liked as much as . . .” Her voice trailed as a low rumble of thunder accented the coming downpour.
“As Ryan?”
As you.
And finally the clouds broke, releasing rain that fell in sheets. Seth grabbed Ava’s hand and tugged her toward the band shell. Grass tickled over her toes as her flip-flops slapped against the ground. Within seconds, Seth had pulled her up the steps and underneath the shelter of the white arched stage. She bumped into him when he stopped, damp clothes now clinging to her skin, and nearly lost her footing.
But he turned, balanced her with one hand on her waist, and then lifted the same hand to slip a piece of hair behind her ear.
And for one weighty moment, he just looked at her. One second, two, the air between them heady with something much more than humidity. When he said her name again, it came out husky and questioning. “Ava, I’ve been wondering . . . thinking . . .”
Thinking what, Seth?
Another groan of thunder. A blink.
And he dropped his hand.
And she forced herself to breathe. Swallowed to stop herself from asking aloud what’d just happened. Or almost happened.
“Seth!”
The sound of a car door closing cut her off, and Seth’s gaze flitted over her shoulder. Instant surprise pooled in his eyes, and she turned to see someone raising an umbrella over her head and looking toward The Red Door.
A woman who had to be Maddie Rinehurst.
6
“You don’t get it, sis. She’s here. In town. He’s going to propose.” Ava sidestepped a puddle outside the Maple Valley Rec Center. Shouts and splashes drifted through the blue metal door leading into the pool, probably full to capacity considering today was the third rainy day in a row.
She’d come looking for Raegan at one of her three part-time jobs at Seth’s request. “I want to make sure she’ll be at Case’s tonight for dinner. I want everybody to meet Maddie.”
He’d said the words with an odd mix of nervousness and excitement in his tone as they still stood in the band shell in the rain. “Sure. I can tell her Maddie’s here, see if she’ll be home.”
Home. The word had been testing itself out on her the past few days—as Iowa grew more and more familiar. As Minnesota felt further and further distant.
But now, in one appearance from the woman Seth planned to marry, home was once again a big fat question mark. Her purpose here in Maple Valley just as much a mystery. She hadn’t thought about the future like she’d promised herself she would. Hadn’t sent out any resumes or even looked for jobs online.
“Ava!” Her sister’s voice cut through the muted sounds of kids at play.
“Autumn.”
Ava slumped against the tan tiles lining the walls outside the pool area. She hadn’t found Raegan at the house or either of her other two workplaces. Only place left was the
rec center.
Would’ve made more sense to call. But she’d gotten the feeling from Seth he wanted to see Maddie by himself, so she hadn’t returned to The Red Door with him. And . . . the running around town kept her from dwelling on the jarring disappointment gnarling inside her.
That is, until her sister had called and prodded the recent development out of her.
“I understand that he’s planning to propose to this other girl. What I don’t understand is, if you knew that, why you stuck around Maple Valley.”
The smell of chlorine wafted over her in waves. “Because we’re friends. Maddie doesn’t change that. And he needed help with his apartment and the restaurant and . . . we’re friends.”
“Ave—”
“Just friends.”
“I used to say the same thing about Blake.”
Blake Hunziker, the guy who’d bounded into her younger sister’s life like an eager golden retriever, ready to play, determined to stick by her side whether she asked him to or not. He’d saved their family inn back home and waited while Autumn had her adventure in Paris. And when she’d come home, well, he’d gone and swept her off her feet once and for all.
He wasn’t the guy Ava ever would’ve picked for Autumn. He was Ryan’s brother, actually. And their two families had never gotten along, especially after Ryan’s death.
But he was the right guy all the same.
“I knew it was the right dream.” Seth’s words, spoken hours ago, that felt like days ago. Something told her they’d be about as easy to shake as a winter cold.
“Seth and I aren’t Blake and you, Autumn.”
“Profound.”
The door to the pool opened and a little girl slipped through, towel dragging behind him and swimsuit dripping. “Well, it’s the truth.”
“You know what else is the truth? Friends fall for each other all the time. It’s a universal story.”
“Except the happily ever after isn’t guaranteed.” Especially when the attraction was one-sided. Or when one of the friends in question already had girlfriend.
And when the other friend in question had lost sight of herself. She’d spent half an hour wandering around a town that was only supposed to be a temporary pit stop but had started tugging on her heart—making her wish she had a place here. Or maybe a place anywhere.
Truth was, even if there was no Maddie and Seth suddenly decided to see Ava in a different light and every romantic hope she tried to deny fell into perfect place, she might still feel this antsy, restless discontent. The kind that hinted at a purpose she couldn’t see. Something bigger than herself.
Or she was just overanalyzing everything.
Ava moved away from the hallway wall and tugged open the door to the pool. Raegan was apparently lifeguarding inside today, since the outdoor pool was closed. The second she stepped inside, moist air steamed around her. Laughter rose from the pool, the sound of kicks and splashes against aquamarine water. Narrow windows along the opposite wall offered a view of the rain still falling in steady sheets.
“Look, I didn’t call to make you upset.”
Ava blinked. Right, Autumn, still on the phone. She balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could nudge up the sleeves of her jacket. “I know you didn’t.”
“I’m only nagging you because I care.”
“I know that, too.” She scanned the room for Raegan and spotted her standing at the corner of the pool, twirling a red-and-white-striped flotation device around her arm like a Hula-Hoop.
“I originally called because Blake has been begging me to tell you about a new city job here. We need a rec center director. He thinks you’d be perfect.”
“That’s funny, I happen to be in a rec center right now.” She rounded the pool toward Rae.
“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, considering Seth and all, but now . . .”
Raegan waved as she approached.
“Just a sec, sis, I need to deliver a message.” Ava moved her phone away from her ear.
“Hey, whatcha doing here?” Raegan stuck the life preserver under her arm.
“Message from Seth. Maddie’s in town, and there’s dinner tonight at your dad’s. He wants to make sure you can be there.”
Raegan looked past her. “Joshua, no diving in the shallow end.” Her voice echoed off the walls, and she turned back to Ava. “Man, Seth has you filling in at the restaurant, fixing up his apartment, and now you’re his carrier pigeon?”
“I’m overly helpful. What can I say?”
Raegan studied her for seconds that stretched too long.
Ava held up her cell. “Uh, so I’m on the phone with my sister—”
“Oh, right. Sure, I’ll be at dinner.” She lifted her whistle and blew. “Joshua, what did I just say?”
Ava gave a quick wave and turned away, replacing her phone at her ear. “Message delivered.”
“So what’s Maddie like?”
“Haven’t met her yet. But I will tonight.”
“At the dinner you just mentioned?”
Autumn must’ve heard the conversation. Had she recognized the awkward tinge to the exchange, too?
A hush fell over the room then, and Ava paused on her way to the exit. She followed the focus of everybody in and around the pool. A little boy, probably not older than five or six, padding his way to the edge of a low diving board.
And a man in the pool. “It’s all right, buddy. Just plug your nose and jump, and I’ll catch you.”
The boy stopped at the edge of the board.
“Have you thought of just coming out and telling Seth how you feel? You may regret it if you don’t,” Autumn said.
The man in the pool stretched out his arms. “Jump whenever you’re ready, Sam.”
“What’s the point in telling him? We’ve been over this. Maddie is here. He’s going to propose.”
“Yeah, but if you love him—”
“I don’t love him!” The words burst from her, bouncing off the cement and tile that wrapped around the room before thudding into silence. And suddenly it wasn’t the kid standing on the diving board at the center of attention—it was Ava, with her water-splotched clothes and humidity-flattened hair and the echo of her stubborn declaration clinging around her.
Oh man, had Rae heard that?
“Ava?” Autumn’s voice lowered.
Just get out of here. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. I’ll call you later.” She dropped her phone into her bag and started forward, the bright red EXIT sign up ahead her salvation.
She angled around a puddle near the edge of the pool, stepping to the side, but knocked into a sprawling lawn chair. Oh no. Her shoes slid over the wet cement, tangling with the chair and then . . . Going down.
She crashed into the chair with a screech, purse flying up behind her, and it was post “I don’t love him!” all over again. The silence. The stares. The complete and utter humiliation slogging through her.
Until, finally, laughter . . . from the kid on the diving board. And then from a little girl with floats circling her arms. And the man still waiting for his son to jump.
Well, the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant on Main wasn’t the most romantic locale for a reunion. But it’d do.
Seth grinned as he dropped into the same corner booth as always, maroon vinyl creaking underneath and the Mandarin’s usual sweet-and-spicy aroma teasing his taste buds.
Maddie paused at the edge of the booth before sitting. She pushed long waves of black hair over her shoulder, smoky eyes trained on his and pooled with reluctance. It was one of the things that’d first drawn him to her—the way she had of holding eye contact. That and her million-watt smile. And her confidence.
And the fact that she’d taken a chance on him while he’d still been aimless. He’d wondered a hundred times more than once why she’d stuck with him. Not only that, once he’d finally landed on a dream, she’d supported it.
“Chinese at two thirty in the afternoon? What ab
out the coffee shop . . . ?”
“Nah, Saturday afternoons that place draws every teenager in town.” Plus, he’d just been there with Ava. “I thought you loved this place.” They’d come here all the time back when Seth first relocated to Maple Valley.
She finally slid into the booth, smoothing one hand over her sensible white button-down. “Weird time of day to eat lunch is all.”
He’d gotten used to eating meals on odd hours. During regular mealtimes he was usually at the restaurant.
“We could’ve stayed at The Red Door,” Maddie added.
“No, I gave Ava my word I’d stay away for the day. And both Shan and Raegan heard me make the promise. They even have a bet going—” He broke off at the confusion that flitted across her face. “Shan’s the chef. I’m sure I’ve talked about her before in one email or phone call or another.”
“And Ava is your old college friend.”
He grinned. “Well, she wasn’t my friend back then, but now, yes. We are. Friends, I mean. A.J. and I.” He closed his mouth.
“She goes by A.J.?”
“Sometimes.” But never to him. So why he’d reverted to the nickname, he had no idea.
Maddie lifted one eyebrow, but whatever question flitted across her face didn’t come out. Instead she reached for her purse. “I’m going to use the restroom real quick. I’ll be back.”
He watched as she walked away from him, the unease that had begun tangling through him ever since he saw Maddie getting out of her car now tightening into knots. Long distance had added an awkward angle to their relationship. That first year, when they’d both lived in Chicago, the relationship had worked.
But then he’d made the decision to move back to Maple Valley, open the diner. He’d prayed so hard about it, and Maddie had encouraged it all—applauded his dream and listened to him talk about how much he loved his hometown and his family. . . .
He’d just assumed that sooner or later she’d join him and become a permanent part of that dream, but now he couldn’t help wondering if saying yes to the dream had meant a long, slow no to the only real relationship he’d ever been in.