At a red light, I drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel and glanced down at the clock on the dashboard screen.

Six fifteen.

I scrubbed a palm over my face.

Early.

Way early.

But I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d spent the entire night tossing and turning. Nothing but a jumble of nerves.

Anxiety and excitement penetrating all the way to my bones.

Like a kid on his first trip to an amusement park who was terrified to get strapped into the ride.

Well aware the coaster was going to twist and swerve and flip. That it might jerk and jar and hurt.

Still, I knew it was well worth any amount of pain.

Blowing out a breath, I searched along the street that I was traveling.

Fairview—right smack dab in the oldest part of town.

The sidewalks were laid with old, gray bricks, and massive trees grew from planters, their lush branches outstretched and shading the two- and three-story historic buildings that housed businesses and apartments.

Colorful fabric awnings jutted over the doors on the bottom floors, and big windows showcased what was to offer inside.

I was up a couple blocks from Pepper’s Pies, the diner Rynna ran and the trendy hotel Broderick Wolfe and his company had brought to Gingham Lakes.

The two of them had been like a straight shot to the economy. Jolting things into action.

New shops, restaurants, and bars had been popping up all over the place, much the same as the revitalization over on Macaber Street where Ollie’s bar and my loft building were located.

My new office was just up the road, to the left on McAlister where a bunch of new private-practice medical offices had sprung up in the midst of the city’s rejuvenation.

Admittedly, I wasn’t all that familiar with everything Fairview had to provide this far down the street.

But there it was, calling out like a beacon sent to save my ass, written on one of those rustic chalkboard signs that had been set up outside a small shop.

Coffee.

Hell yes.

When the light turned green, I accelerated through the intersection, quick to jerk my car into one of the open parallel spots lining the curb right out front.

I hopped out and strode toward the coffee shop, glancing up at the mint-green awning, the name scrawled across the top in a flowy font.

A Drop of Hope.

The logo beside it was a coffee cup tipped to its side, a drop of coffee falling free.

A bell dinged from above when I swung open the door.

It was instant. The strike of my favorite aroma.

That bold scent of a fresh brew.

Damn, if it didn’t almost make me lightheaded, my mouth watering with anticipation.

I blamed my addiction on med school.

My stomach was quick to catch up to the reaction, rumbling a greedy sound when I caught onto the subtler aroma—rich cream and decadent sugar—something sweet baking in an oven.

Score.

I stepped farther into the quaint shop. A bunch of round and square tables with mismatched chairs were set up in the open space.

Bookshelves, which were filled with a mess of knickknacks and games and worn hardbound books, lined the back wall.

The place rustic and quaint.

Of course, none of that was what captivated me. My attention homed in on the huge display case attached to the front counter.

Every kind of cupcake and muffin a man could hope to imagine teased from behind the glass.

Behind the counter were about ten different industrial-sized silver coffee urns.

Heaven.

I’d just stumbled upon my new favorite place.

Big chalkboards hung from the ceiling, and I looked up, checking out the specialty coffee drinks and flavors they had to offer.

Movement rustled from the back kitchen before the swinging door flew open.

A tiny gasp echoed through the air.

For a beat, I froze. Somehow knowing it was familiar. That I’d heard it before.

My attention, which had been wrapped up in the menu, was suddenly completely otherwise occupied.

Swore, my eyes had to have doubled in size.

No fucking way.

The same girl I couldn’t get off my mind since Friday night, the one I didn’t think I’d ever see again, stood in front of me.

All flowing red hair and pouty lips and freckled nose.

Body as mouthwatering as the cupcakes displayed in the case.

Both times I’d walked away from her that night had left me with this odd sense of regret. Something about her had just . . . struck me. Made me want to get inside her pretty little head just about as badly as I wanted to get inside her tight little body.

She stood there staring at me with those green eyes that had to be as wide as mine, shock freezing her mouth into a perfect “O”.

Tension bound the air, and that crazy attraction that had haunted my dreams all weekend was right there.

Simmering between us like one of those chaotic summer thunderstorms that gathered over the lake. The kind of storm you knew was going to rock your entire world.

Blinking, she inhaled a big breath and seemed to shake herself out of it. She ran her hands over the tiny black apron tied around her even tinier waist, smoothing herself out. Rolling back her shoulders, she plastered the fakest smile I’d ever seen across her pretty face.

“What can I get for you this morning?” The slightest country drawl tumbled out with her words.

She was fucking adorable.

One side of my mouth lifted in a smirk. “You really know how to hit a man where it hurts, don’t you, Princess? Acting like you don’t remember me? Come now, don’t break my heart. Tell me I’m really not that forgettable.”

Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out what to make of me. “Actually, I’m trying to decide if you really are stalking me.”

A light chuckle rumbled out. “Someone seems to be feeling a little full of themselves again this morning.”

There was no way I could stop myself from baiting this girl.

Her eyes roamed over my best suit—the one I’d donned for the day, knowing I would be stepping through the doors of my new office for the first time in partnership with a group of physicians who had years of experience on me.

The day would be nothing but meetings with staff and reviewing cases that I’d be taking on, intermingled with the few patients they’d already scheduled me to see.

Let’s just say those nerves I’d been riddled with all last night had me putting my best foot forward, because in my world, there was always, always something to prove.

Still, I felt like a king with the way she gulped as she took me in, the air flaring with the track of her gaze, her hands visibly shaking.

She seemed to swallow it all down and pasted on an expression of decided indifference. “Says the guy with the five-thousand-dollar suit.”

I tsked. “Seems someone loves to exaggerate. It was only four.”

She pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh my, you must excuse my naivety.”

So fucking adorable.

Taking a step forward, I set my palms on the counter in front of the register and leaned in. My voice dropped. “I think there’s a chance you can be forgiven. I’m not above a bribe.”

So what if I injected about as much suggestion as I could into the simple words.

It worked.

Because this gorgeous girl was fighting a genuine smile as she ducked her head to the side to try to hide the flush splashed across the milky expanse of her chest.

That exquisite color rode up and lit on her cheeks.

Seemed as hard as she tried to front a brash exterior, all I had to do was peel back a single layer to expose the shyness underneath.

She barely peeked at me when she whispered back, “How kind of you.”

Clearly, she was still trying to play along, but I got the feeling this girl didn’t typically flirt or tease. That she felt completely out of her element.

And damn, if I didn’t like that, too.

“Are you?” she suddenly asked, her question an uneasy murmur, not even a hint of playfulness in it.

Confusion drew my brows together. “Am I what?”

Her voice dipped even lower, the girl whispering out of the corner of her mouth. “You know . . . stalking me?”

Soft, amused laughter escaped, and I scratched at my temple, shaking my head.

She was something else, all feisty fire and soft-spoken uncertainty.

“Um . . . I’m pretty sure that’s a question anyone would answer as no, truth or not. But for what it’s worth, I promise you that I’m not. I’m starting a new position up the street this morning. I was a little early, so figured I’d check out what A Drop of Hope had to offer. Name’s Kale. Kale Bryant.”

A small gust of relief blew from her lungs, and she fiddled with her fingers. “Hope. Hope Masterson.”

Hope.

A Drop of Hope.

That feeling was back again. It was the same one that had forced me to walk away from her Friday night. The sense that this girl was way too good to be chased and hunted and played. The game was totally unfair if she didn’t know how to play it back.

She shocked me again when she asked, “So, Mr. Bryant, tell me what kind of bribe you had in mind.”

She said it with the hint of a smile dancing around that soft, plush mouth.

Answer to that was easy.

Exactly the kind there was no chance this girl would entertain.

“How about one of those cupcakes?” I suggested instead, angling my head toward the case.

She chewed at her bottom lip, the hard exterior gone. Like it was so heavily fabricated she didn’t have the strength to hold it up. “Do you see something you like?”

There was nothing but innocence in her expression. In her voice. She had no idea what those kinds of words would do to me. The way it sounded like she was offering herself up on a platter.

My gaze traced over her plain black V-neck tee, jeans, and flats she wore today. Her height dropped about five inches from Friday night.

Petite and delicate.

Apparently, good things did come in small packages, and I was about two seconds from telling her that she was what I wanted.

But there was just something that stopped me from saying it.

Something inside me that screamed to turn on my heel and get the hell out of there before it was too late. Warning me she was different in a way I liked far too much.

I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised the really reckless side of myself was begging for a couple more seconds.

I forced my attention from her and turned it to the treats in the display, gaze roaming across the selection, basically salivating at the sight. Each cupcake was oversized, topped with swirls of rich, colorful frosting, finished with little pieces of candies and fresh fruits that matched the flavor and names of the cupcakes.

How the hell was I supposed to choose?

A grin twisted across my mouth when I saw it. Because really, there was no other choice.

I eyed her from over the case, the girl so dainty she was barely peeking at me from over the top.

I inclined my head. “I’ll take one of those.”

Strawberries and cream and everything sweet.

Hope slid the door open, ducking down, hand reaching in. “Which one?”

“Strawberry Shortcake.” I said it like it meant something else.

She heard it, too, and her entire being froze for a fraction of a second, and then she drew a sharp breath before she pulled one out. “Good choice,” she muttered.

“I’ve been told I have good taste.” My voice dropped low with the allusion.

She straightened, and for a beat, our gazes tangled.

Attraction wound tighter and tighter with each breath that passed.

She cleared her throat and turned to the back counter where she placed the cupcake in a clear plastic container. She spoke without looking my way. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Right.

What I’d stopped for in the first place.

Clearly, this girl had the power to make me forget myself.

“Just a large black coffee will do. Medium roast.”

She filled a paper cup adorned with the shop’s name and logo on the side and placed a lid on it.

It was at the same second a clamor sounded from the back. The swinging door banged open as someone came bustling out.

Jenna.

Instantly, I recognized her from the bar.

The sex kitten from Friday night was gone, replaced with nothing but rumpled clothes and messy bun, potholder gloves on her hands as she carried out a large tray of steaming hot muffins.

When she caught sight of me, she stumbled in her tracks.

She recognized me, too.

I stood there trying not to laugh while a completely silent conversation transpired between the two of them.

Widened eyes. Tilted heads. Purses of lips.

Got the feeling they were arguing about me, though I had no idea which side either of them was bickering for.

Jenna stepped around Hope, and I was pretty sure it was a warning glare she shot me when she ducked down to start filling the bottom shelf in the case with muffins.

There was no missing the protectiveness that blazed in her brown eyes. Though I was pretty sure that was only the half of it, and she was restraining herself from grabbing Hope’s wrist, dragging her around the counter, and shoving her in my direction.

Go for it. But if you hurt her? I’ll gladly cut off your dick.

I heard it loud and clear.

Apparently, all three of us were proficient in silent communication.

Hope turned back around, slid the cup of coffee my way, and put the container into a brown paper gift bag.

I dug in my pocket for my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

She shook her head. “It’s on the house.” She offered me the sweetest kind of smile before it turned wry. “It is a bribe, after all.”

That grin on my mouth was growing wider with each second that passed. There was just something about this girl that put it there. So damned easily. Flickers of a blaze that’d been dead a really long time.

Before I went and did something stupid, I pulled a twenty from my wallet and stuffed it into the tip jar. “Thank you for the cupcake and coffee, Hope. I think this was exactly what I needed to kick off this new adventure in my life this morning.”

“Kale, that’s completely unnecessary,” she said, eyes dipping to the jar.

Clearly, she wanted to refuse the small offering. Still, there was an undertone of gratefulness that there was no chance of missing.

“Sure it is, Shortcake. You made my day.”

She just stood there, staring at me, strawberries and cream and all things sweet.

I sent her one last smile before I spun on my heel and headed for the door. All this shit on the tip of my tongue. I pulled the handle, and the door opened to the sound of the bell jingling overhead.

My guts twisted in the same second I was spinning back around, striding to the counter in a flash. Faster than I could process just what it was I actually thought I was doing.

“Go out with me.”

Startled, Hope blinked in surprise, her pretty mouth trembling at the edges. “I . . .”

“Just dinner.”

What the fuck?

I hadn’t asked anyone to dinner in . . .

I slammed a lid on the thought, hammered it down with a bunch of rusted nails, swallowed hard. “Just dinner.”

Head shaking in regret, she took a step back, like she needed to put space between us. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She was completely, one hundred percent right. It was a terrible idea. But fuck . . . I wanted it.

I let a grin tweak up one side of my lips. “How could hanging out with me ever be considered a bad idea?”

That stunning face flushed again, an affected smile wobbling around her delicious mouth. That was right before a sorrowful kind of regret took hold of her features. “I have a lot of stuff going on in my life right now. It wouldn’t be right.”

I nodded around the impact of the rejection, hating the way it bit and stung. At the same time, I did my best to convince myself it was for the best. I’d just dodged my own damned bullet. Because, really, what was I thinking? “All right, then.”

Awkwardly, I lifted the bag and the coffee in front of me. “Thank you again for these.”

She wrung her fingers. “You’re welcome. I hope you have a really great day at the new job.”

I didn’t respond, just pushed out the door and into the spill of the bright, morning sun, the bell chiming as it swung shut behind me.

I rushed for my car, feeling all kinds of shit I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

The whole way, I wished at least one of those feelings were relief.