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“No,” Ross answers, but he pauses at the door.

“Seven-fifteen?” I press, tilting my head.

“No,” Ross repeats, his mouth twitching.

“I’ll have my usual?”

“No.” Ross reaches for the door handle.

“Extra whipped cream?” I call after him.

He reaches the doorway, then looks back. His gaze drops to my mouth again.

“Seven-fifteen,” Ross mutters, glancing back at me then leaves.

I stand there grinning. Oh, yeah. The mountain man is in trouble. The best part? So am I.

five

Ross

At seven-fourteen the next morning, I'm watching the door. Pathetic. At seven-fifteen, the bell jingles and Kira walks in.

My entire body knows she's here before my brain catches up. She approaches the counter. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I answer, reaching for the cup beneath the espresso machine. No sunshine. No grumpiness. No outrageous flirting. For some reason, that's worse. I turn toward the espresso machine. “I already made it.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You did?” I set down the iced pumpkin spice latte. Extra pumpkin. Extra whipped cream. Cinnamon. Caramel. There's another heart. She stares at it. “Another accident?”

“Drink your coffee,” I nudge the cup toward her.

Her eyes meet mine. “Thank you.” She's being sweet. I don't know what to do with sweet Kira. Flirty Kira, I can fight. Sweet Kira gets through every defense I have. She takes a sip. “How's the tattoo?”

“Good,” I answer, resisting the urge to pull her closer.

“Any redness?” She asks, examining my shoulder through my shirt.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head.

“Soreness?” Kira asks, studying my face.

“A little,” I admit, rolling my shoulder.

“Want me to look at it?” Kira offers, setting her cup down.

My sisters suddenly become silent. All three of them and Kira notices. I notice. Hell.

“Later,” I tell her, glancing toward my sisters.

“Later?” Kira repeats, her eyes brightening.

“At your shop,” I clarify, wiping my hands on a towel.

“Okay.” Kira smiles into her drink. She takes another sip. Then she walks away. No teasing. No flirting.

I watch her leave. Heather appears beside me. “You look disappointed.” She nudges my elbow.

“I don’t,” I reach for the register.