Comfortable warmth is the first thing I notice when I wake up. It’s not the kind thates from the firece in my condo. It holds me tight. I drift in that hazy space between sleep and reality, feeling safer than I have in months, maybe years. Everything smells like expensive cologne mixed with clean cotton.


    My eyes jolt open, and I see the gray shirt and feel solid muscles.


    Shit. Shit. Shit.


    I’m on Nick’s couch, but more specifically, I’m lying on top of him, holding him like he belongs to me.


    My head rests on his chest, his strong arm wraps heavy around my waist, and our legs are tangled in a way that suggests we’ve been like this for hours. Because we have.


    Memories fromst night rush back, and when I try to lift my head, it pounds. We shared pizza and wine, then talked until our voices became rough. We shared a lot. At one point, Iughed so hard that I nearly cried.


    We eventually started streaming When Harry Met Sally because neither of us had ever seen it to the end. We spent half the movie arguing about whether men and women could have sex and be just friends while Billy Crystal proved it was impossible.


    Truthfully, I dislike that movie. I know it’s a romanticedy ssic, but there’s something about it I can’t stand. Every year, I try to watch it all the way through, but I always give up. Nick thought we’d be able to pull it off. We didn’t.


    I fell asleep somewhere around one of Harry’s speeches. Total snoozefest.


    Nick shifts, his arm tightening around me. I freeze, unsure of what to do.


    Friends don’t wake up wrapped around each other like lovers. My heart shouldn’t flutter when we shift closer, and we absolutely shouldn’t fit together so effortlessly that when one of us pulls away, it feels wrong. But here we are.


    We’re just friends because anything else leads toplications that neither of us needs or can deal with at this point in our lives.


    I need to leave before he wakes up because I don’t want any awkwardness.


    I stay perfectly still as I calcte my next move. His arms are my biggest hurdle because they’re heavy and warm and make me want to stay instead of pulling away. By some miracle, I slide out from under them, holding my breath when he stirs.


    “Mmm,” he mumbles, still asleep. Reaching for the space where I was before, he turns onto his side.


    My traitorous heart flutters again.


    I quickly find my shoes. One is hidden under the couch; the other is by the leather chair,rge enough to fit two people. I slip them on, trying not to make a sound.


    Before I go, I take onest nce at him with his messy, dark hair and his face rxed. Somehow, he looks unfairly gorgeous without even trying.


    I grab the receipt fromst night’s pizza and write a note on the back.


    Thanks for the pizza and thepany. Needed that. We should do it again sometime.


    Little Red


    The door closes behind me with a click, and I nearly sprint to my car. The crisp autumn air is sharp in my lungs, and I try to gulp it down, wishing it would clear my head. It doesn’t work, not when his cologne still clings to my sweater like a secret. Not when the memory of how perfectly we get along ys on repeat.


    “Friends,” I mutter as I start my car, thenugh at myself.


    I leave the thought in the driveway as I pull away. I’m not searching for a rtionship, and neither is Nick. The reason why we so easily gravitate to one another is because we’re both broken. It’s why we’re honest with one another. There are no expectations, and what you see is exactly what you get. I’ve never met a man like him before.


    Each time we’re together, I realize how much I enjoy hispany and how our conversations flow freely. It’s as if I’ve known him forever when, in reality, it’s the third time we’ve met up.


    Last October, when I was at Bookers, crying about Craig at the end of the bar, Nick talked me off the ledge. I shared my weaknesses, and he told me my ex was an idiot. He also exined how I shouldn’t take rtionship advice from him because he sucked at them.


    He was there for me that night and listened to me bleed out, and his kindness is something I’ll never forget.


    I drive to my condo in the middle of town, watching the thick fog twirl close to the ground. Mornings like this are my favorite—a reminder that fall officially begins on Saturday, and that’s when the town celebration will kick off. I park and check my surroundings before I unlock the door.


    The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it will within the next thirty minutes, which means I have to shower and get ready for work.


    My ce feels too empty and cold inparison to where I just came from.


    I drop my keys on the kitchen ind and grab two aspirin for my head. After I swallow them down, I go straight to the bathroom to desperately wash away the lingering feeling of being held by Nick. I turn on the water, undress, then step into the shower.


    The hot water pounds against my skin, and it barely removes the cologne that still lingers on me.


    “Just friends,” I say aloud, as though repetition might help cement the thought into ce.


    But when I close my eyes, my mind drifts back to the effortlessughter, his flirty gaze, and how dangerously good it felt to be close to him. I twist the dial to cold, hoping shock therapy works. It doesn’t.


    After my shower, I stand in my bedroom, staring at the sweater I worest night. It smells like him, and I should wash it immediately.


    Instead, I hold it to my face and breathe deep, wanting to remember that scent.


    “Get it together, Jules,” I mutter, then throw the sweater in the hamper.


    Just as I pull on some clothes for work, my phone dings in the kitchen.


    Autumn


    How was dinner with Mr. I’m Back, Baby?


    I stare at the text, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.


    What am I supposed to say to her? That we talked until three in the morning? That I fell asleep on top of him on his couch and woke up in his arms? That neither of us made it through When Harry Met Sally?


    Another text appears before I can respond.


    Autumn


    Zane said your car was still at the cabin at four a.m., when he drove to town to get doughnuts for me!


    Great. Guess there will be no denying that I stayed over.


    It’s barely after six, but I’d be willing to bet half of Cozy Creek already thinks Nick and I were together doing everything except sleeping. I sigh. By lunch, the Fairy Godmothers of Cozy Creek will be picking out centerpieces for our wedding.


    I turn my phone face down and don’t respond. I can’t deal with this right now, not when I need to be at work in just fifteen minutes.


    My phone buzzes again, and when I nce at it, I’m disappointed to see it’s a reminder text from my coffee supplier, confirming deliveryter today.


    “Get it together,” I tell my reflection as I pull on a cute ck sweater that swoops down in the front and some jeans that make my ass look perfect.


    Last year, ire made me some super-cute ck cat earrings with dangling legs and arms, and I slide them on. After a touch of lipstick and some mascara, I’m ready to leave. I grab a jacket and hurry out the door.


    The streemps lining the sidewalk are still lit, casting pools of soft golden light against the lingering darkness, but the sun will rise at any moment. Several people jog through the town square’s park, others stroll with their dogs, and in the distance, tiny heamps bob rhythmically as runners scale Lookout Mountain’s trail.


    Autumn used to be obsessed with jogging, and I’d always be so worried about her. She and Zane now run it together. The two of them are just a reminder of how much can change in a season.


    When I arrive at Cozy Coffee, I slip inside quickly and lock up behind me again. ire has keys and will arrive in about fifteen minutes, giving me enough time to collect myself and start our opening tasks.


    I start in the office, counting the cash drawers, then move to preheat the ovens. As soon as ire arrives, she’ll dive straight into pastries and brewing coffee. When the doors open, we’ll be mmed with the morning rush for hours. Lately, we’ve been running the day shift with just the two of us, except on the weekends, but I’ll eventually have to start scheduling someone else to help us once fall kicks off.


    After I quickly finish my opening checklist, I carry the cash drawers to the front and slide them into the registers. When I nce up, I spot ire strolling past therge front windows that line the sidewalks, already giving me a curious look. A few early customers gather in line by the door outside, eagerly waiting for their caffeine fix.


    ire enters, locks the door behind her, and immediately tilts her head, eyes sparkling with suspicion.


    “Good morning,” she says, her gaze locking on me. “Someone looks super guilty.”


    “Who? Me?” I ask.


    “Who? Me?” she repeats in a high-pitched tone as she walks to the back. I hear baking racks nking as she quickly makes croissants. “Who else would I be talking to? The Ghost of Christmas Past? Let me guess. You had dinner with Nick after all.”


    I snicker as ire continues running her mouth.


    I grind the beans for the coffee makers. When she returns to the front, she adjusts her quartz crystal ne. It’s the exact one she always wears to repel crazy ex-boyfriends with bad vibes.


    “So,” she says, lingering long enough for me to fill in the silence, but I don’t say a single peep.


    She groans. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re glowing like a humanvamp, or do I need to read your tea leaves before I unlock the door?”


    I busy myself stacking pastries that don’t need arranging. “Nothing to tell.”


    “It’s so weird, but for some reason, I don’t believe you.” She leans against the counter, studying me like I’m one of her tarot spreads. “Your aura is screaming in vivid colors. Bright orange.”


    “Before you even say it, nobody gotid.” The to-go cups suddenly need to be reorganized.


    “Maybe not, but something happened.” She checks the napkin holders and the receipt paper. “And not to mention, you keep chewing on your inner cheek.”


    I didn’t realize I had been doing it.


    “Nothing happened. I swear. We watched a movie. I fell asleep on his couch. End of story.”


    She grins. “Oh. What movie?”


    “When Harry Met Sally,” I say.


    Her jaw falls to the floor. “You gave him your rtionship test.”


    I make a face at her. “What? No.”


    “Yes, you did. You make every guy you might be into watch that sucky movie. You didn’t finish it?”


    I shake my head. “Nope.”


    ire moves closer. “You know it’s okay to have a crush on him. No one cares.”


    “He’s fun, but he’s not long-term-rtionship material.” I fidget with a loose thread on the corner of my apron.


    She elbows me. “Not everything has to be long-term. Live a little. You can have an autumn hookup.”


    “That’s absolutely ridiculous.” I shake my head.


    “Why?” she questions. “You’re literally glowing, like you swallowed the Andromeda Gxy. Neither of you is in a position tomit. Why not have fun until he leaves in six weeks?”


    I exhale. “I don’t think he’s attracted to me, and it wouldplicate things. We’re trying to be friends.”


    ire refills the brown sugar at the end of the counter. “I vote for friends who fuck. It’s just sex. That’s the point. Leave your feelings at the foot of the bed, have an orgasm, then continue on with your day. New besties.”


    “You make it sound easy.”


    “It is,” she says, like there is no other answer.


    Before we open the doors for the morning rush, ire spends some time making us each atte with extra shots of espresso.


    “Maybe you can help each other with your rtionship issues,” ire says, handing me the first one. “Regardless, I’m happy for you because one of us needs some excitement in their life this season.”


    My phone buzzes. We both freeze, staring at it like it might explode. It’s another delivery confirmation.


    “You’re disappointed that it wasn’t him even though he’s never texted you,” ire says.


    After Nick left in January, I told ire everything. I needed to vent, and she usually has sound advice, even if it’s sometimes sprinkled with a tarot card pull or a crystal being shoved in my pocket.


    “Pretty please, get out of my head,” I tell her as she moves to unlock the door.


    “No can do, babe. I’m reading all your thoughts!” she says, and I toss a rag at her that she easily catches.


    The morning rush saves me from my thoughts, but ire’s words stick to me like honey. An autumn hookup would be fun, and it would have an expiration date. But I know the type of women Nick has had flings with. His list includes models, actresses, tennis yers, and pop stars. I don’t see coffee barista being added anytime soon, which is wee. Honestly.


    I lose count of how many shots of espresso I make, and I’m surprised Mrs. Galloway hasn’te in and called me out for being with Nick.


    We work nonstop, barely able to take bathroom breaks until the afternoon rush has moved to just a few lingering customers. At 2:47, I start counting down the seconds until it’s time to leave. The evening crew is here and restocking supplies while ire and I clean. The night manager, Tracy, has already switched the cash registers and updated the deposit logs.


    I move into the dining room and sweep the croissant crumbs from under the tables, then rearrange the autumn flower basket and sparkly pumpkin decorations on the mantel of the firece.


    When the bell above the door rings, I nce back to offer a wee and see Craig. I have to hold back a groan.


    He immediately smiles.


    I breathe out because he looks good. But that’s not new. I’ve always found him to be attractive with his sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes.


    As he moves toward me, I notice he’s carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, and it takes all my strength not to shake my head. We were together for three years, and he never cared that my favorite roses were pink or white. This is proof that I can’t let him weasel himself between my sheets ever again. It’s over.


    His hunter-green cored shirt fits tight around him, and I can tell he’s been working out and taking care of himself.


    “Jules.” He says my name like it’s sacred as he approaches me with that confidence that used to make me feel special. Now, after realizing he uses it as armor in rtionships, it exhausts me.


    “Craig,” I say, returning to the mantel to rearrange the Halloween town buildings, just to stay busy. “What do you want?”


    “To talk.” He sets the roses on the mantel. “You look beautiful.”


    I give him a pointed look, and his grin widens.


    This is the charming man I fell in love with, but it’s a mask, one he removes when the newness of the rtionship wears off.


    Over my shoulder, I know there are two tables ofdies trying to listen to every word we’re saying. To my right, Mrs. Caldwell sits with a cup of tea while she does a crossword puzzle in the newspaper.


    The Fairy Godmothers are everywhere. This conversation isn’t safe unless I want rumors started.


    “You should go.”


    “Wow,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”


    ire appears from the back room, takes one look at the situation, and promptly disappears again.


    Traitor.


    “Why are you here?” I ce the spooky graveyard scene back where it was and stare at him.


    “I’m back in town. For good this time.”


    He leans forward, almost removing the space between us, but I take a step away.


    “I owe you an apology. I’ve changed, Jules. Therapy has really opened my eyes. After being without you, I know you’re the only woman on this for me.”


    My brows lift, and my mouth falls open. I promptly close it. “d you’re finally going to therapy, but we’re over. There are no more chances. We’re too toxic for one another.”


    I nce at Mrs. Caldwell, who pretends she hears nothing, but I see how she’s leaning in.


    “Julie, baby.” Craig reaches for my hand, but I pull away. “I know I messed up bad, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that never happens again.”


    “No,” I firmly say, not liking to have to repeat that word.


    I’m a people pleaser, and I have the urge to make people happy. Saying no is hard; repeating it is harder. And what sucks is he knows this, but instead, he continues to test me.


    “Now, please leave. You’re embarrassing me. I’m at work.” I nce around and see Harold Jenkins pretending not to eavesdrop on this conversation, but I’d bet every dor in our overflowing tip jar that his wife will know about it before supper.


    Shit.


    “I was an idiot.” He admits it, which is new. “I get it now. You’re meant to shine, and I didn’t let you. I didn’t support you.”


    “Let me?” I re at him.


    He’d freak out on me if I smiled at other men, who were my customers. He’d tell me I was asking to be stared at by dressing certain ways. One thing Craig is wonderful at is gaslighting. His words were chosen wisely, but almost too carefully.


    “That’s not what I meant.”


    “It’s exactly what you meant. You used to make me feel so small. It’s a no, Craig. A very firm no. I don’t need your or anyone’s permission to be myself. I will never change who I am for you or any man.” I move the roses aside, their sickly sweet scent making my stomach turn. “You lost your chance.”


    His jaw tightens, and he’s losing his grip because I won’t lie down for him and submit, like he requires from a woman. “Autumn said you’re seeing someone.”


    It’s not a question, but it doesn’t matter because I ignore him. He doesn’t deserve to know anything about me anymore.


    “Who is he?” Craig steps closer, and suddenly, the space between us disappears. He grabs my left hand, holding it in his. “Because until there’s a ring on this finger, I won’t give up. I still love you. I realize now I always will.”


    I pull my fingers from his grasp, not liking how pushy he’s being. Maybe this is why Autumn was protecting me from his weird persistence.


    “Do you remember what you told me the day you ended things with me?” I raise my voice a little more so that the rest of the eavesdroppers can hear and spread this fact around town.


    “No,” he mutters. “I wasn’t myself.”


    “I think you were exactly who you are.” I smile, but it’s forced. “You said you wanted a more submissive woman, one who wasn’t asking for attention from men and who knew how to listen.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Let me be clear. I’ve not changed. I will not be submissive to you or any man.”


    “I don’t want you to change because I have,” he tells me. “I want you exactly how you are.”


    He looks almost hurt, and my self-doubt kicks in. I try to remember this is part of his maniption, part of the cycle that keeps bringing us back together.


    “Come on. Remember all the good times we had? You were mine, Julie, baby. It was me and you. All thosete summer nights, lying in the back of my truck, waiting for fireflies to appear. We were perfect together. Everyone said so.”


    I think about those summer nights and the vibe of it as the crickets chirped. Then I remember how he humiliated me in front of my friends and family when he brought his new fiancée to town. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe the man who promised to love me forever could’ve been so cruel. It erased the good times for me.


    “Everyone is delusional. They have no idea how controlling you were.”


    Sometimes, when I’m lying in my bed at night, I think about what I’ll say to Craig the next time he tries to beg me back. I promised myself I’d never sleep with him again after thest autumn. It happened to be the same night I met Nick.


    I’d asked the goddesses, how ire had instructed, to give me a sign to never see Craig again. Nick appeared like an angel.


    After Craig and I fooled around, he left and met another woman for a date. That was when I realized I was his hometown fuck buddy, his sneaky link, and he’d used me to get what he wanted. Thanks to ire stalking him, I learned he had taken that woman to his brother’s house. Meanwhile, I went to Bookers and drank the night away.


    “Admit that you feel something when you look into my eyes,” he whispers. “I need to know.”


    “Craig—”


    The bell chimes so hard that the door rattles, and that’s when I see Nick standing in the threshold. His stance shifts when he looks between me and Craig, reading the situation in seconds. He pushes his expensive designer sunsses on top of his head, and I meet his piercing honey-brown eyes.


    His brow lifts as he approaches us, and he’s already reached the correct conclusion.


    As soon as Nick is close, I reach my arm out, and he wraps his around me.


    “I missed you,” I say.


    “Damn, me too.” He smirks, kissing me on the forehead. “Especially afterst night.”


    Nick tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiles. Those butterflies swoop in, and I wish they’d stop it because it’s too confusing.


    Craig clears his throat, clearly intimidated. Nick’s jaw clenches tight, and it’s obvious how he wants to rip Craig to shreds.


    “Can I help you?” Nick finally asks, treating Craig as if he’s the biggest inconvenience of his life. The confidence, the no-shits-given persona, is sexy as hell.


    “I don’t think we’ve met.” Craig squares his shoulders, trying to match Nick’s presence. It just doesn’t work. “Craig Downing. Jules’s?—”


    “Forever ex,” I interrupt firmly. “Craig was just leaving with these flowers he bought for his mother.” I pick up the bouquet and push it toward him.


    There’s something in Nick’s eyes that makes Craig take a step back.


    “I didn’t catch your name.” Craig’s voice carries a challenge.


    I panic.


    “Because I didn’t throw it to you. However, I’m Nics Banks. Jules’s boyfriend.”


    “Boyfriend,” I repeat as my heart ricochets against my rib cage.


    Holy shit, did he just say boyfriend?


    Heat rushes up my neck, embarrassment mixing dangerously with excitement. Thedies are watching with eyes as wide as saucers. I’m so screwed, knowing this won’t stay within these walls. My cheeks heat more.


    Nick’s smile doesn’t fade when he meets my eyes. “Soon-to-be fiancée, especially if she keeps looking this damn gorgeous. Going to have to make sure to put a ring on that finger so I can keep her all to myself.”


    Craig freezes, and I see his heart rate tick upward.


    “Oh, stop,” I say to Nick with a nervous chuckle, wishing he would, because this will push Craig to spiral.


    His thumb brushes against my cheek, and I stare into his brown eyes. He carefully reads me like a message in a bottle.


    “Come on. We both know you’ll eventually be my wifey. Mrs. Julie Banks. Sounds so sexy.” Nick chews on his bottom lip as he studies me, noticing how I’m not squirming.


    He’s having too much fun, but I know this will backfire.


    “It has a ring to it,” I say.


    Nick grabs my left hand and kisses my ring finger. “Can’t wait to put one here.”


    He’s really rubbing it in, and what I hate the most about it is how damn believable it is.


    “Julie, baby,” Craig whispers, using that stupid nickname he gave me, “I’m not giving up.”


    “On what?” Nick asks, searching between us, dropping my hand, and pulling me into his arms. “What am I missing, darling?”


    “Craig thinks he’s going to steal me from you,” I say.


    Nick chuckles as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m not letting you go, Julie, baby. Especially not for your trash-can forever ex, Craig.”


    I’m not sure what happens next, but Nick leans in, and I lift on my toes. His mouth gently slides across mine, and everything changes.


    The kiss is brief. Just enough to make a point, but itpletely resets my brain chemistry. A moan escapes me as heat slides straight through my veins. My pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that I almost miss the quiet, satisfied sound Nick makes as he tastes my pumpkin pie ChapStick.


    When I pull back, we’re both breathing a little too hard. I don’t know what just happened. Nick’s thumb gently traces my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to lean into him and capture his lips again. It shouldn’t have felt like that.


    “Bye, Craig,” Nick says, not taking his attention from me. His eyes are soft and unreadable as Craig stays nted.


    “We were having a conversation,” Craig says.


    “It’s over. Leave my girlfriend alone,” Nick tells him, ring before returning back to me. “Apologies. I was going toe earlier.”


    “I’m just so damn d you’re here now,” I say, meaning every word. I can’t imagine how this would’ve gone had Nick not shown up.


    Craig’s jaw clenches hard enough that I see the muscle twitch from my peripheral vision. Craig stares daggers into Nick, then storms out.


    Iugh as Nick pulls me into his arms. I’m not sure what just happened, but we stay locked together and giddy. Our eyes meet, and he’s wearing his signature smirk.


    “You can let me go now,” I whisper, half hoping he won’t.


    “You’re right; I could,” he says, his gaze dropping to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “But maybe I don’t want to.”