The evening shift at Cozy Coffee is brutal. After being up since dawn, I’m running on fumes and caffeine. Every tourist in Colorado needs aplicated coffee drink fifteen minutes before we close. My body is sore from Jessie’s torture session, I smell like espresso and pumpkin spice, and there’s definitely whipped cream in my hair somewhere.


    “Go,” Tracy says, practically shoving me toward the back. “Your man’s been sitting outside in that ridiculously expensive car for ten minutes.”


    “He’s early.”


    “He’s eager and putting in effort. There’s a difference.” She waggles her eyebrows. “I’ll finish closing. You’ve been glowing all day, and I want that energy to continue through your date.”


    I nce through the window and see Nick scrolling on his phone in the driver’s seat. Even from here, even after a long day, the sight of him makes my stomach flutter.


    “Thanks, Tracy.”


    I grab my stuff from the back and head outside. Nick looks up from his phone and smiles, getting out to open my door.


    “Hey,” he says. “Long day?”


    “The longest. Plus, I’m sore from yoga, and I smell like I bathed in sugar coffee.” I gesture at myself. “Can we stop by my ce first? I desperately need a shower before dinner.”


    “Of course. We have a reservation at eight thirty, so there’s plenty of time.”


    “Bookers doesn’t take reserva?—”


    “Money talks.” He grins as I slide into the passenger seat.


    “I could get used to this,” I say with a wink.


    The drive to my condo is two minutes, tops. When we step inside, I immediately kick off my shoes.


    “Make yourselffortable,” I say, heading toward the stairs. “Actually,e up with me. You can sit on the toilet and talk to me while I shower.”


    “I’m sorry, what?”


    I pause halfway up the stairs, grinning at his expression. “ire does it all the time. We chat while I shower. Otherwise, you’re just sitting down here, alone, like a weirdo.”


    “How is that any different from sitting in your bathroom like a weirdo?”


    “Oh,e on. I want to talk!”


    His ears turn pink, but he follows me up the stairs. “This is what female friendships are like?”


    “Oh, yeah. Prepare to be educated.”


    He follows me into my bedroom, immediately distracted by the organized chaos.


    “Is that a stuffed ma wearing a sombrero?” He points to my bed.


    “His name is Fernando. He helped me get through a rough patch, so no judgment.”


    “I already like him.” Nick picks it up, then notices my bedside table. “You read three books at once?”


    “Different moods require different books. Romance, thriller, and self-help.” I head into the bathroom, scooping up my workout clothes and throwing them in theundry basket. “Come on, boyfriend. Bring Fernando if you need emotional support.”


    He follows me in, still holding the ma. “We’re really doing this?”


    “Yes! Now, be a good boy and sit.” I point at the toilet lid. “And close your eyes while I get in.”


    “This is definitely not what I expected when you invited me up.”


    “What did you expect? A striptease?” I say, turning on the water.


    “A man can only dream.”


    “Eyes closed, dreamer.”


    “They’re closed. Scout’s honor.”


    I undress quickly and step into the shower. “Okay, you can open them. Tell me about your afternoon. What did you do after you dropped me off?”


    “Spent an hour arranging those bear pillows you made me buy,” I say.


    “Please tell me you took a picture,” I say, as I scrub away the remnants of a day in the life of a barista.


    “No, I absolutely didn’t document my pillow arrangement.”


    “Should have. It’s always nice to have evidence that you’re being a real human. And you could’ve updated your Phase One slides for your PowerPoint presentation.”


    “Harsh.” I can hear him shifting on the toilet lid. “Oh, I picked up a coffee maker.”


    “Why? I saw one on the counter at the cabin.”


    “I bought a normal one that makes normal coffee for normal people.”


    “Look at you, embracing your inner basic bitch. I love this for you.”


    “Is that what we’re calling it?”


    “Of course. You’re giving up your rich people’s elitist ways and living a humble, regr-coffee-maker life. But I’ll be honest with you, an espresso machine is a must. It’s one thing I’m a total snob about. But then again, caffeine runs in my veins.”


    Nick howls withughter as I finish rinsing my hair and washing my body.


    “Can you grab me a towel? In the closet next to you.”


    I hear him moving around, thenughing.


    “Jules?”


    “Yeah?”


    “Why do you have seven bottles of the same shampoo?”


    “It was on sale, and I had coupons! That stuff is expensive. Stop judging me and hand me a towel.”


    The shower curtain moves, and his hand appears with a fluffy towel, his eyesically squeezed shut.


    “You look ridiculous.” Iugh, taking it, patting the water from my face.


    “I’m just being respectful.”


    “I guess.” I wrap the towel around myself and step out. “You can open them.”


    He opens one eye cautiously, then both, and his gaze does a quick sweep before he deliberately focuses on my face. “Hi.”


    “Hi, yourself. Come keep mepany while I figure out what to wear.”


    “So bossy,” he says.


    “Does it bother you?” I ask.


    “What?”


    “My bossiness.”


    “No,” he tells me. “I appreciate it.”


    That makes me smile.


    Nick follows me to my closet, still carrying Fernando.


    “Friends help each other pick out outfits,” I say, flipping through dresses. “What should I wear?”


    “I don’t know,” he says.


    I stop and look at him. “Haven’t you ever had a female friend?”


    “Not like this,” he admits.


    “You’re missing out. This is where all the best gossip happens.” I pull out two dresses. “Which one?”


    “Either one,” he says.


    “What’s your favorite color?” I ask, shoving them back onto the rack as my eyes scan across the many colors.


    “Green,” he says without hesitation. “Like the color of your eyes.”


    I grin and pull out my emerald silk dress. “Turn around.”


    “Seriously?”


    “Unless you want a show.”


    “I mean …”


    “Nick!”


    He turns, covering his eyes with Fernando. “The ma sees nothing.”


    I drop the towel and slip into the dress quickly. “Okay.”


    He turns back, and his mouth falls open slightly. “That’s … you’re …”


    “Words are sometimes hard.”


    “You’re going to cause idents.”


    “Don’t tter me,” I say with augh.


    “Honest.” He sets Fernando down and moves closer. “You look incredible.”


    “It’s just a dress.”


    “It’s never just anything with you.” He reaches out, fingers barely grazing the silk at my waist. “Tonight will be torturous.”


    “Why?” I ask, picking up the towel and doing my best to dry my hair.


    “Because I’ll have to perform through dinner, pretending you’re mine as everyone wishes you were theirs.”


    Iugh. “So, sell it. Let them know I’m yours. Give no doubts.”


    “Don’t give me permission to be possessive,” he says.


    “Permission granted.” I walk past him and add some product to keep my waves. I hurry and swipe on some lipstick and mascara.


    “Wow,” he says as we head downstairs. “You clean up nice.”


    “So do you,” I tell him.


    I lock up and grab his hand as we make our way to Bookers. It’s only a few blocks away, and the evening air is perfect. It’s cool enough to befortable.


    Leaves from the trees hanging over the sidewalk drift down between us. They’re bright orange and brown and scatter across the sidewalk. The air carries the faint smells of woodsmoke and cinnamon—a reminder that it’s mid-September. Starting tomorrow, the streets will be packed with tourists and will remain that way through the new year, especially after the ski season begins.


    We pass the bookstore, where three teenage girls quickly appear in the window, watching us.


    “Is this kind of interest normal?”


    “Unfortunately, yes,” I say, avoiding their gaze. “They’ll move on to someone else eventually. It’s just been a while since I’ve dated, after everyone thought I’d marry Craig. I think the whole town is shocked. And many of them have no idea who you are yet.”


    The wind picks up, sending more leaves swirling around us like confetti. We pause at the street corner to let a car pass before we cross. Nick turns to nce at me, and I notice how the streemp catches the auburn in his hair.


    “Serious question,” I say. “Could you imagine yourself living here?”


    He hesitates as we cross the street. “Yeah. Zane is here. When we were teenagers, we always talked about living close so our kids could grow up together.”


    “You want kids?” I ask.


    Nick is utterly breathtaking.


    “Maybe one day.” His thumb rubs across mine, and his hand squeezes my fingers a little tighter.


    We approach Bookers, and there are huddles of people waiting outside. Nick opens the door, allowing me to enter first.


    My eyes widen. “I can’t believe you had them reserve a table.”


    “Why not? It’s a Friday night, and they’re packed. I wanted to be guaranteed dinner with my beautiful girlfriend,” he says.


    “You’re going to make me blush,” I tell him, leaning closer.


    The hostess greets us, pulling us away from our conversation.


    “Two, for Nics Banks,” he says, and she cheerfully leads us across the room.


    As we pass tables and booths, heads turn to watch us.


    “People are staring,” I whisper.


    “Because you’re stunning,” he says, gently cing his hand on my shoulder to pull me close.


    I melt into him as he escorts me like I’m royalty.


    My pulse jumps when I slide into the booth and he sits right beside me. His arm settles around me, and I lean into his warmth. Being close to him is too easy. Our legs touch under the table, and neither of us moves away.


    Menus are ced in front of us, but I don’t need it because I have it memorized. I open it, though, to give myself something to focus on other than him.


    “Would you like to start with some drinks and appetizers?” the server asks, and then pauses when Nick turns to her. “I, uh … Nick, uh … huge fan. I literally had a poster of you in my bedroom.”


    I smile, understanding because Nick has a way of scrambling people’s thoughts.


    “Thanks.”


    “I was devastated when you retired,” the girl says.


    “I was too.” He chuckles, like this is a normal reaction. “I’ll have a whiskey, neat. And my girlfriend wants …”


    “A margarita on the rocks, salt, with an extra shot of tequ on the side,” I say, needing to calm down. “And an order of chips and salsa.”


    She walks away, leaving us alone.


    “Does that happen a lot?” I ask him.


    His brown eyes meet mine. “Not as much anymore. Most people have forgotten I ever yed and know me from other things.”


    “Does it bother you?” I ask.


    “Not really. Being forgottenes with retiring, which is inevitable for every yer. Part of the game is knowing when to quit. That’s why I tried hard to break records—to ensure I’m remembered as one of the best in the league,” he answers, then pauses, realizing I’m devouring every word. I could listen to him talk for the rest of the night. “You’re so pretty.”


    “You don’t have to do that,” I whisper.


    Softughter releases from his lips as he rotates his body more toward me, almost to face me. “Give you apliment?”


    “Yeah,” I tell him.


    “Just so you know”—he leans in close and speaks only loud enough for me to hear—“I don’t give fakepliments. Ever.”


    Nick pulls his phone from his pocket and turns the camera on. He snaps a picture and shows me.


    “Oh no,” I mutter, staring at the picture.


    “What?” His brows are lifted.


    “I have the look.” I gasp.


    “What look?” He stares at the picture, trying to figure it out.


    “I cannot fall in love with you.”


    Laughter rolls out of him. “Then don’t.”


    “This feels too easy,” I say, my voice low, staring at the photo.


    “We look good together, like we belong,” he confirms, and hearing him admit that does something to me.


    “I think we might break some people’s hearts on November first,” I say, hoping mine isn’t one of them. I’m already trying to predict the town’s reaction when I exin why we’re over.


    He smirks. “I’ll be your long-distance fake boyfriend as long as you need, babe. I have no ns to hop into a rtionship anytime soon. Kinda good on that.”


    “Agreed. It honestly feels good not to have to try to impress you,” I tell him. “It might be you and me indefinitely at this rate.”


    “I’m down for that,” he says. “Would make my life so much easier.”


    “Me too,” I admit. “My mom would stop trying to hook me up with a different guy every week. I think she’s scared I’m going to be single until I’m in my prime.”


    “There is nothing wrong with that, if it’s what you want.”


    Our drinks are set in front of us. I lift the extra shot of tequ, downing it, wanting it to shake my nerves loose. Nick sips his whiskey and continues to read the menu. Every once in a while, he steals a nce at me and grins. It’s adorable.


    The chips arrive, along with fresh salsa that has just enough kick to keep my mouth on fire. We order our food. With the lights low and how close we’re sitting, I’m suddenly aware of how intimate this feels. I can smell his cologne, feel his warmth, and I want to be closer.


    “So,” I say, taking a sip of my margarita for courage, “I should probably give you some feedback.”


    Nick turns and twirls a strand of my hair with his finger as he studies me. “I’m listening.”


    “You’re good at this.” The tequ makes me braver. “You actually listen. Being with you doesn’t feel forced or too much. You make itfortable.”


    “Yeah?” He sounds pleased.


    “Yeah.” I pause, then add quietly, “The closeness is nice and not too overbearing.”


    His thumb traces circles on my shoulder. “And what about this?”


    “Not too much.” Goose bumps trail over my arm, and I try to brush them away.


    His brows lift, and before he can say anything, a shadow falls across our table.


    “Jules”—Craig’s voice cuts through the moment—“can we talk?”


    “No,” I say.


    “Come on. Five minutes.”


    Nick’s arm tightens around me. “She said no. We’re actually on a date, and you’re rudely interrupting it.”


    Craig’s eyes narrow at our closeness. “This is ridiculous. You’ve known him what, two days?”


    “Actually, a year,” I say. “Not that it’s any of your damn business.”


    “A year?” Craigughs bitterly, and I can smell beer on his breath. “Funny how you never mentioned him.”


    The dining room quiets, and my heart rate increases.


    Craig’s face flushes red as the restaurant watches our drama unfold like it’s dinner theater.


    “Funny how you never asked about my life when we were together, but care so much now,” I counter.


    “You’re using him to make me jealous.”


    Nick starts to respond, but I squeeze his hand, stopping him. This is my battle.


    “Craig, I need you to understand something.” I keep my voice level. “Not everything is about you. Nick and I are together. You and I are over. Those are two separate facts that have nothing to do with one another.”


    “Jules—”


    “Please leave us alone,” I snap.


    Craig stands there for another moment, giving me his best go to hell look, then storms off, nearly knocking into our server.


    “Well handled,” Nick says quietly.


    “I’ve had practice. It’s not often I have to use my manager tone.” I take a sip of my margarita andugh. “He’ll probably text meter with either an apology or more usations.”


    “Want me to fuck him up?”


    “Yes, but also, he’s not worth it.”


    Our food eventually arrives, and we both ordered steak and baked potatoes. When we’re halfway through eating, Nick’s phone vibrates on the table. He nces at it and frowns.


    “Everything okay?” I ask.


    “Yeah, it’s just my little brother, who has been a total pain in my ass.” He lets it ring.


    “Answer it,” I say. “It might be important.”


    He yfully groans, but picks it up, putting it on speaker but keeping the volume low. “Asher, I’m busy.”


    “You’re always busy. Or avoiding me. Which is it tonight?” His voice is smooth, teasing.


    “I’m on a date.”


    There’s a pause, and it’s followed by sarcasticughter. “Right. You’re on a date. In Cozy Creek. Where the nightlife consists of that one bar.”


    “I’m dead ass serious.”


    “Are you going to keep her around longer than thirty days?”


    I raise an eyebrow at Nick, who looks embarrassed.


    “I’m literally sitting next to her right now, and you’re on speaker, so thank you,” Nick grumbles.


    “Prove it.”


    He looks at me. I shrug and lean in.


    “Hi, Asher,” I say. “This is Julie, and I have a feeling Nick is going to beat his thirty-day deadline this time. Would you like to ce a bet on it?”


    Nick softly chuckles, and it eases his tension. I bump into him.


    The line is silent, but I see the seconds still counting down.


    Asher scoffs. “Holy shit.”


    “Yeah, and our food is getting cold because we’re right in the middle of a date. So, we should probably let you go.”


    “Mark your calendar,” Asher says. “Thirty days from the first date, he will try to run. Don’t let him. Nick will always have the sudden urge to reorganize his entire life or go through a mini self-discovery phase that requires him to be alone.”


    “Why do I care?” I ask him. “His past rtionships don’t affect us.”


    “Also, that’s not entirely true and—” Nick starts.


    “Remember Jessica? You suddenly had to take up rock climbing in Europe. Or Sarah? You realized meditation was the key to your problems. Then there was Emily and Tiffany and Hannah …”


    “Goodbye, Asher.”


    “Julie! Get my number from him and call me. I’ll talk you through every single one of his exit strategies!”


    Nick hangs up, jaw clenched tight. “Sorry about him.”


    “Thirty days, huh?” I tease.


    “It’s not intentional. I get restless. Most people are more into me than I am them. I try to end things before someone gets hurt.”


    “Should I expect you to decide to hike the Appchian Trail in mid-October?”


    Heughs.


    “We’re different,” he says, then seems to catch himself. “Because it’s fake and we’remitted until November first. Already, you’re beating my records. It’s a clean ending. No need for exit strategies.”


    “Right.” I do the math quickly. “That’s two weeks longer than your usual.”


    “You’re right,” he admits. “I guess Asher will have to start telling my dates six weeks, going forward.”


    We finish our food, and he pays,pletely ignoring my offer to split the check. I’m slightly tipsy, and Nick holds me close as we stroll down the sidewalk.


    Outside, the September air is cool against my skin, causing me to shiver. Nick drapes his jacket over my shoulders without me even asking. We walk back to my condo, our hands linked together. I’m not ready for the night to be over, but I know we’re rounding the end.


    The streets are full of tourists, and music streams from a karaoke bar that opened up on the corner. Laughter and the sound of tes ttering echo from the diner. Cozy Creek is full of life, and the season hasn’t fully started yet.


    “Your brother seems like he enjoys giving you shit,” I say.


    “It’s his favorite pastime. He and Dyson both.” Nick squeezes my hand. “They think my thirty-day thing is hrious.”


    “Is it really that consistent?”


    “Unfortunately.” He nces at me. “You’ll be a personal record.”


    “Breaking records makes a person unforgettable,” I tell him, recalling what he said about his hockey records. The way he nces at me makes my pulse quicken.


    We round the corner to my building, and my stomach drops when Mrs. Mires, Craig’s aunt, steps outside with her ancient poodle, Mr. Whiskers. She hasn’t seen us yet, but she will in about two seconds. Her phone is already in her hand; she’s probably texting Craig right now about her nightly surveince, telling him I’m not home yet.


    “Shit,” I whisper.


    Without thinking, I turn to Nick, grab his sweater, and pull him down to me. Our lips crash together, and for a second, he’s surprised. Then his handse up to frame my face, and he’s kissing me back with an intensity that makes my knees weak.


    This is nothing like our coffee shop kiss. This is pure instinct, pure want. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I open for him, a small sound escaping that I’ll be embarrassed aboutter.


    One of his hands slides into my hair while the other wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel his heart racing, matching mine. The world narrows to just this, us, his mouth on mine, the solid warmth of his body, the way every nerve ending seems to spark to life at once.


    When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. I’m vaguely aware that Craig’s aunt has hurried inside, Mr. Whiskers yapping from being rushed.


    “Jules,” Nick breathes, his forehead resting against mine.


    “She was going to see us,” I whisper, but it sounds like a weak excuse, even to me.


    “Right.” His thumb traces my cheekbone.


    Neither of us moves. We’re standing so close that I can feel his breath on my lips, and it would be so easy to lean back in. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.


    “Kissing you feels too good,” he mutters.


    “It’s just chemistry,” I say, trying to sound practical. “Physical attraction.”


    But his hand is in my hair, and his thumb is still stroking my skin.


    “Is that what this is?” he asks. The question lingers for an eternity.


    We finally step apart, and the loss of his warmth makes me shiver despite his jacket around my shoulders.


    “I should go inside,” I say.


    “Yeah.”


    But we’re both standing there, staring at each other like we’re trying to figure out what just happened because that kiss has made me forget anything else exists.


    “Nick—”


    “Six weeks,” he says, like he’s reminding himself as much as me. “We have six weeks.”


    “Six weeks,” I repeat.


    One wrong move could ignite a fire that will burn us both down.


    “Good night, Jules.”


    “Night. It was fun. Hope we can do it again, boyfriend.”


    “Oh, babe, we will.”


    He waits until I’m inside before leaving. I lean against my door, fingers pressed to my lips, trying to catch my breath.


    My phone buzzes.


    Craig


    I can’t stand knowing you’re with someone else.


    Ig-fucking-nored.


    It’s followed by another one.


    Nick


    I’m sorry if that was too much.


    I stare at the message.


    Too much? Kissing him was everything. I keep that to myself.


    Julie


    Every part of tonight was perfect. We did great. Thank you for being a good sport!


    Nick


    Helps when I have a great partner.


    Julie


    Do you have ns tomorrow night?


    Nick


    I don’t.


    Julie


    Want to join me at the harvest festival kickoff celebration? It’s tradition. I never miss it. Will probably head over there around five.


    Nick


    I’d love to join you.


    My heart skips.


    Julie


    Can’t wait!


    Nick


    Me neither.


    I plop down on the couch, wearing his jacket, with my lips tingling from that kiss. Tomorrow is the festival, and something tells me everything is about to change. I have to remind myself it’s only temporary, and six weeks is all we have. And that thought terrifies me more than anything else.