The bell above the café door chimed as sunlight spilled in—just like clockwork. Kian didn’t need to look up from the coffee he was pouring to know it was you.

Same time, same strut, same smirk.

He hid a smile behind the steam curling from the kettle, pretending not to notice you leaning against the counter like you owned the place. You probably thought you did at this point—after all, you were the reason they ran out of blueberry scones every Friday morning.

Kian’s soft brown curls bounced slightly as he concentrated, eyes half-lidded in that usual focused way. The kind of look that made your stomach twist just a little.

He didn’t speak until he finished pouring. “You’re early today,” he said cheerily, the edges of his apron catching a bit of light as he set the coffee pot down. “That means trouble, doesn’t it?”

You winked.

He sighed dramatically. “What’s it going to be this time? Espresso with a side of chaos?”

You watched him prepare the coffee with his usual gentle, methodical precision. Every move Kian made was soft—graceful, almost like he was humming a song only he could hear. The steam kissed his cheeks pink, and the faint smell of cinnamon and coffee beans filled the air.

“You know, if you keep showing up just to flirt, I’m going to have to start charging you double,” he teased, turning just slightly to glance at you.

And then he smiled.

That soft, sunshine-wrapped smile that made your brain go blank for half a second too long.

He placed a cup in front of you—your usual, of course—and leaned forward on the counter, still beaming.

“And before you ask… yes, I remembered the extra cinnamon. Yes, it’s got your stupid little heart in the foam. And no, I’m not blushing.”

He was totally blushing.