Page 35 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"You too."

"I'll do my best."

He grins and runs toward two boys waiting near the sidewalk. I watch until all three disappear through the doors. Then I pull away.

My morning stretches open in front of me. In New York, an empty hour is something I have to fight for. Here, entire pieces of the day seem to appear without asking permission. I could go home. Instead, I turn toward Main Street. Coffee sounds better.

The bell above Betty's door rings when I walk in. She looks up from behind the counter.

"Morning, Maddy."

"Please tell me coffee still solves things in Oakridge."

"Some things."

She reaches for a cup.

"Latte?"

"You're my favorite person today."

"It's early."

"Don't ruin it."

She smiles and starts making my drink. I take a seat at the counter and look around. The coffee shop has changed since I lived here. The old counter is still the same, but the mismatched tables have been refinished, plants fill the front windows, and a chalkboard menu hangs behind Betty's espresso machine. It feels familiar without being exactly the way I remember it. A little like Oakridge itself.

Betty sets my latte in front of me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I take a sip. Perfect.

"The place looks good, Betty."

She glances around. "You sound surprised."

"I'm impressed. There's a difference."

"I'll take impressed."

"When did you redo everything?"

"Little by little. New tables a few years ago. Paint after that. The espresso machine nearly bankrupted me, but we're on speaking terms again."

I laugh.

"And Main Street?"

"What about it?"

"Half of it looks different."

"Half of it is."

So we talk. About the bakery that moved two doors down. The old hardware store that became a bookstore. The farmers market getting bigger. Businesses that opened after I left and a few that didn't make it. People I remember. People I don't. Fourteen years of Oakridge compressed into ten minutes over a latte.