The door swung open for what had to have been the thousandth time that morning.

But this time . . . this time, my entire being took note.

The breath burst from my lungs in a rattled gasp, and my feet wanted to give out from under me.

It sent my heart taking off at a sprint, banging around in the confines of my chest like a big spoon whipping up something sweet in a metal bowl.

Jarring and vibrating.

Penetrating all the way to the bone.

I tried to swallow around it and focus my attention on where it should be—the customers lined up at the front register during our normal morning rush. Today it seemed as if the traffic had been multiplied.

Jenna, Claire, and I had been hustling nonstop, trying to keep up with the demand.

But as soon as he walked in the door, it seemed impossible. All my eyes wanted to do was get lost in the sight set in front of me.

Kale was back.

All tall, lean body and easy, casual way. His grin was pure confidence as he strode through the door. His crop of blond hair burned like white fire in the rays of bright morning sun that poured in from above him.

Lighting him up. Making him glow.

As if the light couldn’t help but be drawn to him, too.

I blinked through the daze, scolding myself under my breath as I finished swirling the whipped cream on the café mocha I’d been making, quick to move on to the plain coffee that went with the order.

I was being ridiculous, wondering if he was back for any other reason than coffee. He’d told me he had started a job just down the street. It wasn’t as if him swinging by would be out of his way.

Still, three days had passed.

Three days, and I’d begun to think I would never see him again. Oh, I knew the overwhelming sense of disappointment that thought left me with made me a fool.

Just asking for trouble when every time the bell jingled over the door, I looked that way.

Like a beggar who was looking for anything to hope for.

Even if it was just a spec of his time.

A moment in his day.

Because I’d forgotten what it was like to feel this way.

To have my tummy turn and my pulse race. To have someone make me toss sleeplessly in my bed, imagining what it would be like to be touched by those big hands.

Adored.

And there he was.

His fancy suit from the other morning had been ditched in favor of a crisp, white button-up, dark gray dress pants tailored to fit and accentuate every immaculate inch of his body.

A shiver traveled my spine, spreading out, drenching every cell.

No man should be that gorgeous. Or that sexy.

It was just unfair.

He shot me a knowing smirk.

I jerked, realizing I was just standing there.

Staring.

I hopped back a step to keep from spilling a cup of coffee straight down my blouse when I realized the cup I was holding had tipped to the side. The splash I’d dodged hit the floor.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered to the customer, turning to make a new coffee.

From the corner of my eye, I kept watching him, the way he began to meander around my shop rather than get into line.

His fingers drummed over the displays, as if he couldn’t fully appreciate something without touching it. The imported boxes of teas and packaged goods in gift baskets wrapped in clear cellophane and big bows.

The large cups with inspiring quotes.

Tumblers with the store’s logo.

Not that I was paying attention or anything.

Jenna squeezed by to get to the latte machine. She elbowed me in the ribs when she did, and her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Looks like someone has a visitor. Look at all that deliciousness standing right there. Told you he’d be back.”

“I’m sure he’s just here for a cup of coffee,” I defended under my breath, facing away as I filled a medium cup with hazelnut.

“Well, you just keep on thinking that, Harley Hope, but that man right over there is thinking about you naked.”

I swatted her. “Stop it.”

Her eyes went wide with innocence as she dipped into the case to get two pumpkin muffins. “What?”

“You know what. I swear that you are nothin’ but a pain in my ass.”

“What you need is a good kick in the ass.”

“I need nothing of the sort,” I mumbled, lidding the three cups. I turned and slid them to the customer waiting for her order. “There you are. Have a great day.”

She uttered a thank you and moved on her way. I was quick to fill the next customer’s order, trying not to pay attention to Kale, who’d taken note of the big lollipops displayed in a pink wooden decorative box. To keep them all standing, the sticks had been stuck in Styrofoam, which had been hidden by the fake moss that covered it.

So what if Pinterest had become my lover, keeping me company in the lonely nights.

From the side, I took in the way his blue, blue eyes narrowed in curiosity, the way he pulled one out.

I bit down on my lip.

Damn it.

Normally, I wanted everyone to buy them up. But there was something about the man holding one that made a rush of unease slip and slide through my body. That achy place throbbing and needy.

As if he was holding a piece of me that was sacred.

All of them were the same. Colorful swirls with a clear wrapper and a white label on the front.

It was just my luck Jenna noticed at the second the last customer I’d been helping walked away with his coffee and half dozen muffins.

“Those are for charity,” she called over the counter.

Cocking his head, he studied the label before he looked up at me. “Anything’s possible if you have a lick of hope?”

He asked it like a question.

As if he were wondering if I really believed it.

Heat flooded my cheeks. The uneasy kind. The kind that had me shifting on my feet.

“Yep,” Jenna said. “Hope here makes those herself. Every last cent goes to charity.”

For a moment, he stared at me, something soft fluttering around his lush mouth before he tucked the stick back into the Styrofoam.

I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.

That was right before he scooped the entire box up under his arm. “In that case, I’ll take them all. I think I have an idea of where I can put them to good use.”

“If you’re taking them all, you should come back and help Hope here make some more. You know . . . philanthropy . . . not at all because you want to hang out with her or anything.”

I sent a glare at Jenna. What are you thinking?

What? She mouthed back with an innocent shrug.

If she what-ed me one more time when she knew exactly what she was doing, I was going to strangle her.

I would have right then, but I was too busy trying not to shake when Kale approached the counter, filling the air the way he did.

All potent, persuasive power.

The space between us growing so thick it made it difficult to draw a full breath.

“Why do you need all those, anyway?” I all but demanded, feeling out of sorts. Hopeful and eager and awed, and that made me scared.

Because him standing there with those lollipops made me feel as if he were stepping into an area that was off limits.

As if he’d dipped his fingers in the places of my life that I protected most.

Touching on the things that were most important to me when he couldn’t come close to understanding.

“Maybe I just have a sweet tooth.”

“You don’t be careful, and you’re going to rot them all out.” I tried to form it a tease, but it came out breathy and almost pleading. He had no idea just what that box tucked to his side meant to me.

He smiled a smile that pierced me straight through my center.

An arrow that nearly dropped me to my knees.

Because that knowing kindness was back. The one that made me feel vulnerable and exposed.

“I think I’ll take my chances,” he said.

I sucked in a breath. Set off kilter. Lightheaded. “All right, then. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Large regular coffee.”

I swiveled away, going for the coffee urns, thankful for the moment of reprieve. Looking at him was making it impossible to stop the foolish notions from racing through my brain, especially when I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he were different.

If there were something intrinsically good at the heart of him.

Caring and . . . and . . .

Giving.

My hands were shaking as I filled the cup, my smile probably more so when I turned back to him and slid it across the counter. He already had his wallet out, pulling out a stack of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.

He set them on the counter.

Another tremble.

“What is this?”

“For charity.” The depths of those turquoise eyes deepened in a way that promised he saw too much.

Part of me wanted to refuse because something about it made me feel weak.

But the money wasn’t for me.

“Thank you,” I offered. “That’s really generous of you.”

He took out a five and placed it on top of the other bills, tapping it as he let that grin ride to his lips, which were getting more and more difficult not to reach out and trace. “And that’s for the coffee, which is delicious, by the way. Though, not nearly as delicious as the cupcake.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I told him. A rush of that shyness pulled fast, getting all mixed up with the crazy desire that thrummed through my body.

It seemed unfair attraction was always immediate.

Natural.

Easy.

It was what came after that left your world in shambles. Battered walls and broken windows, your house falling down around you. It was taking everything I had to rebuild mine—to reconstruct and restore and revitalize. I had worked tirelessly to fill the spots that had been dredged out by cruelty, and I couldn’t falter or misstep.

He hesitated for a second, as if he were struggling to find what he wanted to say, before all that easy confidence came riding back. “Thanks, Shortcake.”

A short laugh escaped, and I shook my head, unable to keep up with him. “You’re absurd.”

“And here I’d thought you’d implied I was cocky?”

“That, too.”

He laughed, though, the sound was soft. So different from the guy I’d thought I’d first run into at the bar on Friday night. This man revealing something good every time he invaded my space, making me want to dig deeper, see more.

I was drawn to him in a way I couldn’t fathom.

He blinked at me, and I leaned forward, drawn, unable to stop myself from reacting to his presence.

Then he shook his head as if he needed to shake himself out of a dream.

He jarred me out of my own.

A smile was pinned on his lips, and he hiked the box up a little higher on his side, grabbing his cup and lifting it in the air. “I hope you have a great day, Hope.”

I sucked in my bottom lip. “You, too.”

I watched him stride across the café toward the door, hating the way everything tightened when he did. The way something like regret rippled through the atmosphere when he pulled open the door.

His or mine, I wasn’t sure.

But it was there.

Heavy.

Pressing on my heart.

I couldn’t stop from watching him through the big windows as he started down the sidewalk, the man a scorching silhouette in the blaze of the day.

But he didn’t climb into his car that was parked at the curb.

He began to pace.

A pace that looked like indecision and turmoil.

Back and forth right on the other side of the window.

His head tilted back toward the sky, as if it might hold an answer, before he set his coffee and the lollipops down on one of the open tables, dug in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

“You’re an idiot,” Jenna hissed from beside me. “That guy likes you, and he’s literally the hottest thing to ever walk through that door. And he bought All. The. Lollipops.”

Maybe that was part of the problem.

“I don’t get simple,” was my response.

“What if he doesn’t want simple?”

I would have answered her, told her that in the end, everyone did. They always took the easy way out when the going got tough. Except the café phone rang. I moved for it, thankful for the distraction, something to keep my feet from rounding the counter and running after him.

Because what the hell would that accomplish?

I lifted the receiver from the wall and pressed it to my ear. “A Drop of Hope. How can I help you?”

“Go out with me.” His gravelly voice echoed through the line.

A surprised sound whispered from my lips, and Kale was suddenly at the window, his face pressed to the glass, hand shading his eyes so he could see inside. His other hand was holding his cell to his ear. “Go out with me, Hope. Just dinner. Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. Couldn’t after I saw you the first time at Olive’s on Friday night. It only got worse after I saw you here Monday morning. I don’t know what it is about you . . . but there’s something that makes me want to figure it out.”

My breaths were hard pants, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. “My life’s complicated, Kale.”

“And I’m offering you a night away from it. Don’t you at least deserve that?”

I wanted to beg him, what then? What happened if I fell for that smirk and that smile and those tender eyes?

Fast and hard?

I could already feel myself slipping. My heart tipping his direction.

What happened if Dane found out?

What then?

But I was so tired of that man controlling every aspect of my life, even after I’d made the decision to cut him from it.

Jenna was suddenly in my face, gripping my wrist, her voice a hard, demanding whisper. “You tell him yes, Harley Hope. Don’t you dare hang up that phone without telling him yes. You deserve something just for you. Just for you.”

Indecision swarmed, questions and worries and want.

But it was the feeling balled in my stomach that trembled the floor beneath my feet.

The urge to reach out and touch on the beauty and tenderness that swam in his eyes. To discover if it was real.

The throb of desire that begged, a whisper in my ear that goaded—just one touch.

The hidden need to feel those hands skating my flesh.

I guessed I’d thought I’d never crave that again, my life fulfilled, my spirit content in knowing I was living for what was right.

Jenna squeezed tighter, my bossy best friend mouthing the word as she angled her head with the demand. “Say yes.”

It was at the same second Kale fisted his hand against the window, his forehead rocking against it, his own words a petition. “Come on, Hope. Say yes. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

A hint of playfulness came out on the last, but it didn’t matter, because I was agreeing.

“Yes,” I murmured, wanting to feel something good even though I wasn’t so much a fool that I didn’t know I was making a mistake. That in the end, it wouldn’t hurt.

Because it already felt as if this mattered.

As if he mattered.

“Okay. One night. Just dinner,” I reiterated.

He breathed out in what sounded like relief. “Just dinner.”