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Wells nodded, his expression unreadable. “See you later.”

I turned toward the door, but as I stepped outside, I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me.

The crisp morning air did little to clear the haze in my head as I walked toward the Coastal Cup. Each step I took, the events of last night trickled back in slow, mortifying fragments.

Karaoke. The bull. The way I had been openly ogling Wells like he was some kind of godsent cowboy from my deepest, most repressed fantasies.

And then—oh no. “You should stay.”

I cringed so hard I nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

I told him to stay. Not just that—I insisted on it. And he did. Which meant he was there, next to me, all night while I slept off my bad decisions.

Groaning, I picked up my pace, as if walking faster would help me outrun the embarrassment burning in my chest.

By the time I reached the Coastal Cup, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries wrapped around me like a warm hug.

Trish was behind the counter, adjusting the pastry display, but as soon as she saw me, her face lit up.

“Oh! If it isn’t my favorite former co-worker.” Trish came around the coffee bar and gave me a hug. “How have you been?”

I hugged her back, grateful for the distraction. “Oh, you know. Just out here making questionable life choices.”

Trish pulled back, eyeing me with an amused smirk. “Now that sounds like a story I need to hear.”

I groaned, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “I’d rather just drink an unreasonable amount of coffee and pretend last night didn’t happen.”

She snorted, already reaching for a mug. “So, that kind of night, huh?”

I dropped my head onto the counter with a dramatic thud. “It was a mess.”

Trish set the coffee in front of me and leaned her elbows on the counter. “Was it the good kind of mess?”

I hesitated. My immediate answer should’ve been no, because what kind of disaster ends with waking up next to Wells Calloway?

But when I thought about it—the way he looked at me, the way he carried me upstairs like it was nothing, the way he just stayed—the answer wasn’t as simple as I wanted it to be.

I took a sip of coffee and shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

Trish grinned like she had me all figured out. “Then it definitely was.”

We chatted about Solace Blooms for a while, catching up on the shop and the latest gossip, before she finally cracked.

“So… there’s a bit of a rumor floating around Wippowa.”

I lifted a brow. “Oh?”

She leaned in, voice teasing. “You and Wells. People have been noticing you two at the farmer’s market. And I even had a customer come in this morning saying they saw the Wells Calloway looking downright smitten last night with a pretty blonde at a bar.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “We’re just friends. Absolutely platonic. Nothing romantic.”

Trish didn’t look convinced. “Mhm. That’s what they all say right before it stops being platonic. This is a proper love story in the making.”

“It is not a love story.” I didn’t make eye contact; instead I focused on the coffee in front of me.

She hummed like she wasn’t convinced at all. “So you wouldn’t mind if I told this very excited townsperson that there’s absolutely no shot of you and Wells ever being a thing?”

“Tell them exactly that.”