Nikki returned with our drinks and took our orders—the smash burger for me and the pastrami melt for Jack. Fries and shakes, of course. Once she left, Jack leaned forward slightly and took my hand again, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  “We need to discuss something important.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

  “What’s that?”

  “Pet names.”

  I nearly choked on my iced tea. “Pet names?”

  “Couples have pet names for each other,” Jack insisted.

  “I am not calling you ‘snookums,’” I stated flatly.

  “What about ‘honey bunch’?” Jack suggested. His eyes danced with amusement. “Or ‘cuddle muffin’?”

  Despite myself, I laughed. “Those are horrible.”

  “‘Sweet cheeks’?”

  “Getting worse.”

  “‘My little espresso bean’?”

  That pulled another laugh from me. “You’re making these up now.”

  “‘Java joy’?”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  Jack’s smile widened. “I’m just trying to find the right one.” His eyes softened. “How about I call you ‘baby’? Simple, classic.”

  The word sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Baby,” I repeated, testing it out. Somehow, despite its simplicity, it felt right coming from Jack.

  “You like that one?” His voice gentled.

  I nodded, heat creeping up my neck again. “It’s…not awful.”

  “High praise from Cooper McKay,” Jack teased. But his eyes were warm, and he touched his foot to mine under the table. “Baby it is, then.”

  The way he said it, low and intimate, made my stomach flip again. We were just temporary, I reminded myself firmly. That I was enjoying this so much was simply…unexpected.

  I hadn’t anticipated how natural this would feel—the easy back-and-forth, how effortlessly we’d fallen into this rhythm of banter and affection. We’d always been comfortable together, but this felt different.

  It was dangerously easy to lean into Jack’s space, to let my fingers linger in his hand, to speak in the softer tones that couples used when they thought no one else was listening.

  Every shared glance felt loaded with meaning. Every laugh came too readily, too genuine for mere exploration.

  It felt more like coming home.

  Our food arrived and forced us to separate our hands. I missed the warmth of Jack’s touch immediately, which was both confusing and mildly alarming. I was supposed to be taking things slow.

  Dinner continued in an easy ritual. We fell into our usual rhythm of conversation. But underneath it all ran a current of something new, a heightened awareness of Jack’s presence across from me. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The comfortable way he talked. The warmth of his crooked grin when he smiled.

  Had he always been this endearing, or was I just noticing it now because of our bargain?

  “Earth to Cooper.” Jack waved a French fry in front of my face. “You in there?”

  I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at him. “Sorry, just thinking about ideas for the event,” I lied.

  Jack’s raised brows suggested he didn’t quite believe me, but he let it pass. “We should probably get together tomorrow to work on those. Isabelle will want details soon.”

  “Tomorrow evening works,” I said. “After closing?”

  “It’s a date.” He winked. “Another one.”

  Heat crept up my neck. Another date. The way Jack’s attention was focused entirely on me, the intimate undertone to our conversation, the flutter in my chest every time he smiled—it all felt dangerously fast.

  We finished our meal and shared a slice of apple pie for dessert, the way we always did. When the check came, Jack reached for it.

  “I can pay my half,” I said. “We always split the bill.”

  “Nope.” Jack shook his head. “This is our first official date. My treat.”

  “But—”

  “Cooper.” Jack cut me off gently. “Let me buy you dinner.”

  Something in his tone made me pause. He seemed almost…earnest. As if this mattered to him beyond something short-term.

  “Fine,” I relented. “But I’m paying next time.”

  Jack’s grin was soft around the edges. “Deal.”

  As we left the diner, several patrons called out congratulations or made teasing comments. Jack’s hand found mine again, our fingers interlacing as naturally as if we’d been doing this for years instead of hours.

  The walk back to my apartment was quiet, the streets of Seacliff Cove peaceful under the rising moon. Jack’s thumb had resumed its gentle circles on my skin, and I leaned slightly closer to him as we walked.

  I fumbled with my keys when we reached my apartment door, aware of Jack standing close behind me. The evening air carried the salt tang of the ocean and the faint warmth radiating from his body.

  “I had a really good time tonight,” Jack said softly.

  I turned to face him, my back against the door. “Me, too.” The words came out weighted with an emotion I hadn’t expected to feel so intensely.

  Jack stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his familiar scent—spicy body wash and something uniquely him I’d never been able to identify. His blue eyes searched mine in the dim porch light.

  “Cooper,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

  My heart hammered against my ribs. “Please.”

  He cupped my face with gentle hands, and his thumbs brushed across my cheekbones. His lips met mine. This was nothing like the impulsive kiss at the bar. That had been spontaneous, fueled by adrenaline and surprise. This was deliberate, chosen, and all the more overwhelming because of it. This kiss was unhurried, tender, full of question and promise.

  I melted into him, and my hands found the solid breadth of his shoulders. Every nerve ending came alive where our bodies touched, chest to thighs. When we finally broke apart, I was breathing hard, my heart racing like I’d just pounded down a gallon of coffee.

  Jack looked equally affected—his pupils dilated, a flush high on his cheekbones, his breath coming in short pants. He shook his head as if to clear it.

  But then worry crept into his expression, and he took a small step back. “Cooper, did we just—did we cross a line we weren’t supposed to?”

  I wanted to reassure him, to ease the uncertainty I could see building in his eyes. “It’s no big deal,” I said, meaning to sound casual and understanding.

  But instead of relief, something that looked like hurt flashed across Jack’s face. His shoulders tensed, and he looked away, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

  I frowned, confused by his reaction. I’d meant to tell him there was no pressure, that he didn’t need to worry about our bargain or any boundaries we might have crossed. But the way Jack’s jaw tightened told me my words had landed completely wrong, though I couldn’t figure out why.

  “So…” His throat worked as he swallowed. “So, tomorrow evening, for event planning?”

  “Right. The event.” I grasped at the subject like a lifeline. “Around six?”

  “Six works.” Jack stepped back, slightly unsteady. “I should probably head home.”

  “Thanks for dinner.”

  He paused. “Goodnight…baby.” The pet name sent a shiver through me.

  “Goodnight, snookums,” I replied, unable to form anything more coherent.

  He chuckled as he left.

  I unlocked my door, stepped into my apartment, and pressed my fingers to my lips. I could still feel the ghost of his kiss.

  I’d spent most of my life categorizing relationships into clear, defined compartments. Friends in one box, romantic interests in another, family in a third. Jack had always been firmly in the friend box, so essential to that category that he practically defined it.

  But now? Now the boundaries blurred. The boxes reshaped themselves without my permission. Friend, boyfriend—the labels seemed inadequate and overlapped in ways I couldn’t neatly separate.

  Jack and I had kissed—really kissed this time. And it had been…incredible. Nothing like the comfortable, platonic feelings I’d always had for him.

  I sank onto my couch, my legs suddenly wobbly. As I sat there, the phantom sensation of Jack’s lips still tingling on mine, I had to admit the truth to myself: something had shifted. I was looking at Jack differently now, seeing him not just as my best friend but as someone who pulled me to him like a magnet.

  I had four weeks to see where this would lead.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jack

  I’d spent my entire Sunday in a daze, revisiting the previous night’s kiss. Playing video games to relax had been nearly impossible—I’d made rookie mistakes and couldn’t even advance from easy levels. All because I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Cooper had responded to me.

  The memory of Cooper’s lips against mine replayed in my mind like an animation running on repeat. They’d been so soft, warmer than I’d imagined during all those years of wondering. I could still feel the weight of Cooper’s hands clutching my shoulders, anchoring himself to me as if he needed the connection as much as I did. What made it perfect wasn’t just the kiss itself, but the choice behind it—we’d both wanted that moment. It wasn’t born from impulse or desperation, but from a genuine desire to explore what lay between us. Every instinct had screamed at me to deepen the kiss, to press closer, to show him just how much I’d wanted this for so long. But I’d forced myself to pull back, to keep it gentle and questioning rather than demanding. If I had any hope of making this temporary relationship permanent—of not scaring Cooper away with the intensity of feelings he didn’t know I carried—I had to let him set the pace, no matter how much restraint it required.

  But then his words echoed in my head. It’s no big deal. The casual dismissal hit me like a slap, deflating the joy I’d been carrying since our lips touched. To me, that kiss had been everything—a glimpse of what we could have, confirmation that the connection I’d felt wasn’t one-sided. But apparently, to Cooper, it was just another moment in our arrangement, something to be brushed off and minimized. Hadn’t it meant anything to him? Hadn’t he felt the same electricity, the same sense of rightness when our mouths met? Or was I just reading too much into what was, for him, simply a temporary exploration?

  I paced my apartment and glanced at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. Cooper would arrive soon to plan The Coffee Cove’s event for the town’s Ocean of Love celebration. Just two friends working on a project together. I needed to get my head straight before he arrived.

  The buzzer rang and sent my heart into overdrive. I took a deep breath and willed my pulse to steady as I pushed the unlock button.

  Cooper’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and when I opened my door, I found him on my landing, still in his work clothes—a black Henley and dark jeans that should have been plain but somehow highlighted every toned line of his body. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times during his shift.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice casual but with a hint of caution. There was a new awareness in his eyes—a slight wariness that hadn’t been there before last night.

  “Hey yourself.” I stepped aside to let him in. “Long day?”

  “Saturday’s rush carried over.” He slipped off his jacket and hung it by the door with the familiarity of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. “I think half the town came in just to gossip. You’re lucky you weren’t there.”

  I laughed, some of the tension easing. “Seacliff Cove’s newest celebrity couple is big news.”

  “Apparently.” Cooper rolled his eyes, but there was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Mrs. Abernathy asked if we’d set a date yet.”

  “For what, our wedding?” My voice rose in incredulity.

  “That’s exactly what she meant.”

  We both laughed, the absurdity of the situation momentarily overriding the awkwardness between us.

  My stomach rumbled, and Cooper raised an eyebrow. I gestured to the takeout menu on the coffee table. “I thought we could order Chinese food.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Cooper settled onto the couch.

  “The usual for you?” He nodded, and I picked up my phone to call in our order: beef with broccoli and fried rice for me, Cooper’s standard order of cashew chicken and brown rice, and egg rolls to share. The ritual restored some normalcy, and by the time I hung up, the atmosphere had eased further.

  “Food will be here in thirty.” I sat down in the armchair across from Cooper rather than joining him on the couch. Distance seemed prudent, considering we needed to work. “Let’s figure out this event before Isabelle hunts us down for details.”

  Cooper pulled a notebook from his messenger bag. Of course, he’d come prepared. “I’ve been thinking…what about a blind taste-test, in which couples have to find their partner’s favorite drink by taste alone?”

  I waggled my hand back and forth. “Let’s keep thinking. How about a special menu, pairing different coffees with desserts that complement them, designed to be shared?”

  “That’s a thought.” His gaze turned unfocused. “We could do something with the coffee sleeves.”

  “We’d need a theme.”

  “What if we did something like those candy conversation hearts?” Cooper suggested and flipped open his notebook. “Short phrases printed on the sleeves. My commercial printer can handle small batches of custom sleeves.”

  “A Latte Love.” The event name came to me suddenly.

  Cooper’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect! We could print different sayings on different sleeves, all coffee-related love messages.”

  “People can collect them or trade for their favorites.” I warmed to the idea. “It’s interactive, memorable.”

  “And it’s something only The Coffee Cove could do,” Cooper nodded, already jotting notes. “We need to come up with catchy phrases, though.”

  “How many different sleeves do you think you could afford?”

  Cooper tapped his pen on his notebook. “Maybe ten different sayings? That’s enough variety without breaking my budget.”

  “Ten coffee-themed love messages coming up.” I leaned forward with newfound enthusiasm. This was familiar territory: brainstorming, creating, solving problems together. This was us.

  “How about ‘Yours to the last drop’?” I threw out with a grin.

  Cooper wrinkled his nose. “That sounds…suggestive.”

  “That’s half the point.” I chuckled. “It’s for Valentine’s Day, after all.”

  He jotted a note. “Let’s put that in the maybe column,” Cooper said diplomatically, though I could see him fighting a smile. “What about ‘Let’s French press together’?”

  I burst out laughing. “And you thought mine was suggestive?”

  Cooper’s cheeks flushed, but he was laughing too. “Fair point. Scratch that one.”

  “‘My heart is percolating’?” I offered.

  Cooper groaned. “Too cheesy.”

  “‘You’re my perfect brew’?”

  “Getting better.”

  “‘You’re my cup of love’?” I wiggled my eyebrows exaggeratedly.

  Cooper threw a couch pillow at me. “These are terrible! We’re going to be the laughingstock of the festival.”

  I caught the pillow. “Not all of them are bad,” I protested. “How about ‘Bean mine’?”

  Cooper paused and considered. “That one’s actually not terrible.” He scratched a note.

  “‘You mocha me happy’?”

  “I like that.” Cooper nodded and wrote it down. “Simple but cute.”

  “‘I’m steaming hot for you’?” My voice dropped into the husky range. Was I giving too much away?

  Cooper’s eyes darted to mine, a flash of heat in them that made my throat go dry. “That…works,” he said, his voice rougher than before.

  “‘Love you a latte’?” I continued, trying to keep us on track despite the sudden charge in the air.

  “Classic,” Cooper agreed, still holding my gaze. “Another one?”

  “‘Espresso your love,’” I said softly. The words felt far too honest leaving my lips.

  Something shifted in Cooper’s expression—a softening, a questioning, as if he’d heard the truth behind the suggestion. For a moment, I thought he might address it, might acknowledge the implications running beneath my ideas.

  But then the buzzer announced our food delivery, and the moment shattered.

  We ate at my small dining table and continued to refine our list of phrases, discarding some and adding others. The awkwardness had returned, though, an undercurrent of awareness that made every accidental brush of hands or meeting of eyes feel significant.

  Cooper kept looking at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice, his gaze lingering on my mouth or hands. Each time I caught him, he’d quickly glance away, but the pattern was undeniable.

  He was thinking about our kiss, too.

  The knowledge sent a surge of hope through me I couldn’t quite contain. Perhaps I had a real chance of showing him that what we had was too good to let slip away when our four weeks were up.

  By the time we’d completed our list and Cooper had sketched a rough design for the sleeves, it was nearing nine o’clock. He gathered his notebook and stood. He stretched in a way that made his Henley ride up, revealing a strip of skin above his jeans.

  I looked away quickly and gathered our takeout containers to hide my greedy reaction.

  “This is going to be great,” Cooper said, genuine excitement in his voice. “I can get proofs in a couple of days and delivery by Valentine’s Day.”

  “Sounds good.” I walked him to the door, closer than I normally would. Our shoulders brushed with each step, and warmth radiated between us. “Figuring this out was fun.”

  “It was.” Cooper hesitated at the threshold, indecision clear on his face. “Jack,” he began, then paused. He seemed to search for words.

  “Yeah?” My stomach fluttered, butterflies taking flight.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22