Balancing two steaming coffees and a blueberry scone in my hands, I navigate around the counter and through the coffee shop. I stop at the entrance, flip the sign to say "closed" and then make my way over to Juniper.

I feel bad. She's been waiting for me for about an hour and a half now. We had plans to get ready for our final interview and then wrap up all the loose ends of the article tonight, but an unexpected rush of customers kept me tied to the coffee machine all afternoon, and I couldn't leave Nora to handle it all alone.

She sat there patiently, engrossed in her own work. Wearing a tan sweater with jeans and a burnt orange scarf tied up in her chestnut brown hair. But all I could really see was that little light yellow bikini she had on Saturday. It's like it's burnt into the back of my brain. That tiny fucking bikini.

I haven't seen or talked to Juniper since the weekend, but I can't stop thinking about her. That wine cellar. That kiss. We left things unfinished. I think – or at least hope – there's something still between us.

I reach the table where she's sitting and carefully place the coffees down. "Hey. Sorry about that," I offer.

She shakes her head without looking up from her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "That's okay."

I patiently wait for her to meet my gaze, but she remains focused on doing whatever she's doing on the screen. In response, I nudge the coffee and scone toward her.

"What's this?" she asks, glancing over as I slide them in front of her.

"Coffee and a scone," I reply, my thumb brushing along my lower lip. She raises her gaze to me before swiftly redirecting her attention back to the scone and coffee.

She's doing that thing again, avoiding eye contact. Maybe she does regret the other night. Maybe I should have given her more space. More time. After all, it wasn't that long ago that she was in a relationship, and I don't want to rush her into things.

One month isn't that long, and most people don't fully move on until around three months, especially if they were in a long-term relationship.

Well, at least, that's what Reddit user shadowdragon19 said.

But now that I think about it, she hasn't seemed to be too upset by Beckett. In fact, she doesn't even seem remotely saddened by it.

"For me?" she asks, pointing to her chest.

"Yes." I nod. "For you," I say, lifting my coffee cup to my lips, taking a sip.

"It's almost six o'clock."

I furrow my brows. "Juniper, I've seen you drink nearly an entire pot of coffee in the office at four p.m. all by yourself on more than one occasion," I say, nudging the coffee cup a bit closer to her. "I know you want it."

Her hesitation lingers for a moment before she reaches for the cup, her voice muffled as she mumbles, "I do want it."

A smile tugs at my lips. "It's an americano, one pump of hazelnut, and cream," I explain, watching as she brings the cup to her lips. Her eyes meet mine briefly, revealing a touch of surprise.

"Oh. Um, thanks. That's my favorite."

I know it's her favorite because I see her come into the office with it every single Friday. She walks in with the exact order same – an Americano with one pump of hazelnut and room for cream. It's like a self-imposed rule, one she strictly goes by. Never Mondays, never Thursdays, only on Fridays.

"No problem," I reply as I take the seat next to her.

She doesn't look up at me as I settle in. I watch her as she takes a sip and then goes back into whatever she was doing on her computer before I got here, almost as if I'm invisible. She's definitely avoiding me again.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat, opening my laptop. "So, do you like to take the lead on the interview this time?"

"Oh, they canceled," Juniper says nonchalantly taking another sip.

I glance up at her from the rim of my computer, watching her as she hums in contentment as she savors her hazelnut coffee. "They canceled?"

"Mm-hmm," she hums once more. I watch her reach for the scone to take a bite, her lips wrapping around it. I bet she'd taste like blueberries if I were to place my lips on hers right now. "They called about an hour ago, saying they had an emergency," her words slightly muffled by the scone in her mouth.

"Oh, okay," I respond, fidgeting in my seat, my gaze shifting away from her, as I try to regain my focus. "You should have told me. You could have left earlier."

She chews her bite and then looks up at me, her light brown eyes finally meeting mine. "Well, I thought," she clears her throat, "maybe you'd want to finish up tonight instead of having to come in tomorrow."

I nod. "Oh, okay."

"I don't think we really need the last interview anyway. The article is pretty much done as it is," she says, her gaze moving above my head.

I turn to see Nora standing right behind me. "Hey, I'm headed out. Everything is cleaned and ready for tomorrow's shift," she says to me, her eyes shifting to Juniper, with a smile spread across her face.

"Okay, cool, thanks."

"Well, I guess I'll head out," she says, throwing her thumbs behind her, but she lingers, not making any movements towards the exit.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye." Silently, I hope she gets the message to leave.

But of course, she just stands there, swaying back and forth on her heels, while Juniper directs her attention back to her laptop.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Nora finally asks, bumping her hip into my shoulder, causing Juniper to look up again, her gaze shifting from Nora to me.

"I wasn't planning to," I mumble to myself, running a hand through my hair and exhaling a sigh. I continue, "Nora, this is Juniper. We work at the Times together. Juniper, this is my little sister Nora."

Juniper extends her hand across the table, wearing that charming smile of hers, and says, "Hi, nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Nora says with a wide smile, maybe just a bit too wide. "I've heard so much about. Wells has had so much—"

I abruptly stand up from my chair, the legs scratching against the hardwood floor, before Nora can finish her sentence. "Nora, isn't Liam waiting for you?" I interject, gently pushing her toward the exit.

"No," she lies, her head shaking adamantly as she resists my efforts to steer her towards the exit. "He's not picking me up today."

"Is that not him waiting for you?" I ask, briefly halting us as I point towards Liam's truck parked outside. He waves at us from the driver's seat.

Her brows furrow as she squints her eyes, pretending to make out the details of his truck parked outside like she's never seen it before. "Nope, never seen that truck before. I don't know who that is," she says with a shrug.

I roll my eyes, open the door, and start pushing her out of the exit. "Hey, wait!" She whisper-yells at me, "Just five minutes, please."

"No."

"Wells," she says, her voice trailing off as I shut the door behind her. She watches me as I proceed to lock the coffee shop doors. I give her a wave, and in response, she flips me off before walking to Liam's truck.

"Everything okay?" Juniper says as she leans her chin in her hand, resting it on the table as a smile plays on her lips. She definitely heard Nora.

I clear my throat, the faintest blush crawls up my neck. "Oh, yeah. Just Nora being Nora," I mutter, and then swiftly shift the topic. "So, I'm thinking you should finish up the last bit of the article, and then we can review it together."

"You want me to finish it?"

"Yes," I confirm.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup."

"Hmm."

"Hmm," I echo.

"That's nice of you," she says, looking at me suspiciously.

"Well, I figured I'd let you have one, since I've stolen most of yours," I quip.

"You admit you've been stealing them then?"

"Your words, not mine. Get to work," I say, tapping my finger on her computer.

She diligently types away on the article while I finish off a few emails, waiting for her to complete her work. She seems to be taking an unusually long time to write it, or maybe she always writes this slowly. But I find myself trying to stay occupied with anything other than just staring at her the entire time.

"Okay," she says, a hint of relief in her voice, "done. I sent it to you."

I mutter under my breath, "Finally," and she shoots me a look. I quickly add, "I'll print it out so we can mark it up with corrections."

"It doesn't need corrections," she mumbles, and I can't help but smirk as I stand up and walk to the back room to print the paper. When I return with the printed article, I find her patiently waiting at the counter for me.

"Okay, go ahead and read," I say, handing her the paper from across the counter.

"Out loud?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Right here?"

"No, outside in the rain. Yes, Juniper, here."

"Okay," she says, snatching the paper from my hands, her fingers smoothing out the paper as she leans against the counter behind her. Clearing her throat, she starts, "In opposite corners of the country, two families were on the flip sides of the same tragic mystery."

She continues to read as I make my way around the counter to where she's leaning.

"This left a big question," she pauses, clearing her throat, and glancing at me from the corner of her eye before returning her gaze to the paper. "Why did she do it? Bellinger tried everything in his investigation but found—"

I take a step closer, and she momentarily stops reading, glancing up at me quickly and then back down again. "—nothing. This was very unusual."

A smirk tugs at my lips as I realize that the closer I get, the more nervous and unsteady she becomes.

I take another step closer, and she stumbles through her words, "'E-earlier this year, James'— I mean, sorry, 'Jake'— 'Bellinger grew increasingly convinced that the deceased individual identified as Kaitlyn McClure.'"

I lean against the counter beside her, and she clears her throat as I slide my hand on the counter behind her back, our shoulders brushing against each other.

She continues at a glacier pace, "The path to this point had been long and..." And then suddenly she just stops reading altogether. Her gaze remains fixed on the paper, but no words come out. Does she realize that she's stopped reading?

"Juniper," I say after a long moment, shifting my gaze from her to the paper, but she doesn't look up. Her brow furrows in deep concentration. "You stopped."

"Hmm?" Her eyes glued to the paper.

"You stopped reading," I repeat, as I move to stand in front of her.

She bites on her lip and shakes her head. "No, I didn't."

"I think you did," I say, my hand gently clasping her wrist as I lower her hands. She squeezes her eyes shut. "What's going through that head of yours?"

Her eyes open, and she responds, "I'm thinking about finishing this article so I can leave."

"Are you sure that's what you're thinking? Because you can't even look at me," I whisper, my fingers lightly tracing the edge of her silky scarf, the material slipping softly between my thumb and my forefinger.

Her eyes crawl up from the buttons on my shirt to meet mine. She stares at me, a subtle challenge in her gaze that she can indeed meet my gaze.

"Hmm-mm," she hums, hesitantly.

"You want to know what I think you're thinking."

"No."

I lean in, whispering in her ear, "I think you wanted me to kiss you the other night." My lips barely trace along the skin of her jaw, and she shudders, subtly angling her neck.

"I think you want me just as much as I want you," I whisper as I glide my lips down to the hollow of her neck.

I pull away to look at her. My hands finding her waist, and hers remaining between us, holding the paper she was reading, using it as a barrier to block me from getting any closer.

She flicks her eyes briefly to my lips and then darts them back up to meet mine

"I think you're mistaken," she murmurs. I lean in, trailing my nose along her cheek, gently nuzzling hers. Her chin tilts upward, our lips barely grazing each other, bringing us back to the same spot as the other night. A soft sigh escapes her, and the faintest smile tugs at my lips. 

"I don't think I am," I whisper against her lips.

I slightly withdraw my lips to look at her, but she follows, like she doesn't want me to break away from her. This teasing between the two of us is becoming too much. I feel my restraint is splintering by the second.

I clench my hands around her waist tighter as I bridge the remaining space between us, my lips pressing against hers. The paper she was holding slips from her grasp and flutters to the floor as her hands grip the back of my neck, pulling me closer as I draw her flush against me.

My whole body hums as heat licks down my spine, and I have to steady myself against the heady rush of desire. The sensation of kissing Juniper Jenkins, the way her lips move perfectly with mine, and that lingering hint of hazelnut on her soft lips is intoxicating.

My fingers trace a delicate path up her spine until they reach the tip of her hair. My hand winds around the silk scarf that's nestled in it, and securing it along with a handful of her chestnut brown hair, I gently tug, subtly tilting her head upwards to align more with mine.

A soft gasp escapes her lips as her mouth falls open, allowing my tongue to sweep against hers. She tastes like blueberries. Like hazelnut, sugar, and sweetness. Just like I thought she would but better.

Her hands sift through my hair, curling and tugging around the ends, as a soft moan escapes my lips. It takes all my self-control not to lift her onto the counter and spread her out underneath me. I want this. I want more of this. This can't just be a one-time thing.

I catch her bottom lip between my teeth, and she lets out another gasp, almost as if she's surprised that I'd do such a thing, and I can't help but smile against her lips as I hear it.

"Oh god," she breathes out as I kiss a path down her throat. Even her skin tastes like sugar.

"Oh my god," she repeats, but this time there's a hint of panic in her voice.

I can feel her slowly stiffen in my arms.

She suddenly pulls away, pushing off my chest. "Oh. My. God," she says, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on me.

Was the lip bite too much? Did I hurt her? Maybe she's regretting this already. It's too soon. I knew it was. I should have listened to shadowdragon19.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, trying to conceal my urge to touch my tingling lips.

"I'm going to get fired," she blurts out, turning away from me and running her hands through her hair.

I huff out a laugh, "What? What are you talking about?" I ask, turning to watch her pace back and forth. "Why would you get fired?"

"You're going to get fired too," she says, stopping to look at me.

I burst into laughter. How did we go from kissing to losing our jobs? "Juniper, what are you talking about?"

"Wells," she says, looking at me firmly, "there is a no-fraternizing policy at work."

"Okay?"

"Wells, there is a no fraternizing policy at work," she repeats slower through gritted teeth.

"Okay?" I say, elongating the syllables with a hint of amusement.

"Oh my god, you don't care if we get fired, do you?" she says as she continues to pace.

"Juniper, there is no one here," I say, gesturing around the dimly lit coffee shop. "Why does it matter? It's not like anyone saw us."

"I have to go." She strides over to her computer, swiftly shutting it, and grabbing her bag. As she mumbles to herself, I strain to make out the words: No boy's pact. Joe Fox. And something about living with her parents.

"Juniper, wait," I say, reaching for her elbow, my tone filled with urgency.

"Wells, no," she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "This can't happen."

I follow her to the door and watch as she struggles to yank it open, but it doesn't budge. After two more attempts, she turns around, her jaw clenched, glaring at me, clearly irritated I'm not helping her. I step around her slowly and reach up to unlock the top latch.

"At least let me drive you home," I offer.

She shakes her head, swinging it open. "I'm fine walking," she insists and steps out, leaving me inside the coffee shop.

Notes

What do you think of this chapter?

Sorry, I tried to keep this one shorter. I promise the others will be unless you prefer them longer. Let me know!

Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and voting. It truly means alot! ❤️