Tuesday morning at The Daily Grind started innocently enough.
For Lia Henderson, that meant balancing trays, brewing espresso, and trying not to think about how perfect—yet infuriating—Ethan Cruz looked leaning against the counter.
"…Morning," she muttered, glancing at him.
"…Morning," he said, smirking. "…Ready for a calm day?"
"…Calm?" she echoed, laughing despite herself. "…That word doesn't exist in this café."
"Exactly," he said, leaning closer. "…Which is why I'm here."
Her cheeks warmed. "…Stop saying things like that."
"Never," he whispered, grin widening.
By late morning, the chaos escalated:
The espresso machine hissed like it was auditioning for a horror movie. Ethan tripped over a stray bag, sending a scone flying—right into Lia's hair.
"…Ethan!" she shouted, brushing crumbs from her head.
"…I'm sorry!" he said, flustered. "…I just… wanted to help!"
"…Help?!" she shouted, though laughter bubbled from her despite the sticky scone in her hair.
By afternoon, the café quieted. Lia and Ethan collapsed at a small table with hot chocolate, both exhausted but laughing.
"…So," Lia said, brushing crumbs from her apron, "…this… is our life now? Chaos, muffins, almost-death-by-latte?"
"…Exactly," he said softly, reaching for her hand. "…And somehow… I wouldn't change a thing."
Her heart leapt. "…Even with the flying muffins?"
"…Especially because of the flying muffins," he said, grinning. "…It makes me want to hold you more."
Her cheeks heated. "…Stop being perfect at this."
"And yet," he whispered, leaning closer, "…I can't stop."
By evening, as Lia walked home, she reflected: life with Ethan Cruz was messy, unpredictable, hilarious, and completely her own.
And she couldn't imagine it any other way.