I moved about my next day like normal. There were nagging thoughts in the back of my mind but I found them easy enough to ignore for the most part. There were more important matters at hand. The morning was dedicated to a hunt. Not only did I manage to get the target wolf, I also happened to catch him with a partner. Though killing two at once felt good, it came with risk. There was no real way to point two arrows in two different directions and have them hit at the same time which meant that there was no way to silence the alarm. One would fall, the other would howl and scream before I picked them off right after. Then it was a mad dash back to the car before others came to their cries.

Somedays, I wondered what I was living for. I felt stuck in the past, trapped in a routine that hadn't changed in years. I was taking care of parents who would never know me again, living in a small apartment, working a job with no real future. But sprinting away from certain death always brought back the will to keep fighting. Even with all of the routine and numbness, at least I wanted to stay alive.

I stopped in to visit my parents after the hunt and told them about everything and nothing. I promised my dad I would get new tires soon and told my mom about a new clothing store in town. All of the surface things that had nothing to do with the real life I lived. There was no response, not even the twitch of an eyebrow. I did my best to not let it bother me.

I was closing the café that evening. And realities came ripping right back to me. the most inconvenient truth was that Milo was actually gone. Part of me hadn't believed it when he said it because who could just walk away from this cause? Who could see the damage being done and just shrug their shoulders? It was so unlike him. It was unlike all of us because, once you knew, you had to fight. And he was the guy that would fight to the death. I had partially convinced myself that this was all a joke and that he would be showing up today anyway.

He never came, no matter how hard I stared at the back door, willing him to be there with his usual steadiness.

How was the team supposed to take down the royals without him? I was sure that he was the only one of us that would be skilled enough to get the job done. Three hits at once, the most heavily guarded werewolves we knew of. It seemed impossible, even for Milo. Maybe that was what made him run. A challenge like that could be suffocating.

The ringing of the bell over the door made my head jerk up from my phone. To be honest, I had been scrolling for hours but my eyes had been glazed over since the after-work rush ended. Foolishly, my heart filled, thinking I would see Milo striding in.

But when I saw the man approaching me, all of my thoughts about Milo, about werewolves, about my parents, they disappeared into nothing.

In the empty café, grey eyes met mine. A slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and my stomach turned to a puddle. I wanted to give him the standard work-smile. He was no different than any other customer after all, but my body had other plans. My eyes rolled down his tall form, taking in the clean fit of his dark jeans and his sweater branded with a local brewery. When I returned to his face, his smile had grown and I knew that I had been caught.

"Hi, welcome to The Daily Grind," I blurted, feeling heat scorch my face.

"Hi, Rosemary," he said, narrowing his eyes at my name tag.

He was just a guy. I could handle this. "What can I get for you?"

The man settled his elbows on the counter, leaning towards me. there was a brief pause and I couldn't be sure if I was even breathing. What was happening to me? It felt like I had never seen a man in my life. Fighting the odd feelings with all my might didn't seem to be very effective either.

"I want to know your name first," he replied, completely relaxed in my café, grinning as if he knew the exact affect he had on me.

Not a single patron in this establishment needed to know my name. Yet, when I breathed in and his sweet scent hit my nose, I almost caved. It was like a summer adventure trapped in a bottle, like fresh crabapples picked from a tree and the spice of sun on skin. Luckily, my mouth was stronger than my mind. "How do you know my name isn't Rosemary or Sam?"

"I would know," he stated. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head.

"Right." With a sigh, he withdrew, straightening to his full height. "Can you make me the drink you made last time? It was really good."

"What makes you think I would remember what I made?"

"I know you do," he pressed. Such certainty. It was like he was reading my mind and he knew that I had tucked our whole previous interaction away under lock and key.

I spun away, proving him correct as I started making the dirty chia. I wished I had the capacity to even consider how I would have acted normally. Would I have been talking less or more, perhaps asking him about his day? Would my responses have been snider? When had I ever even cared about an interaction with a customer beyond my favorite regulars?

"Here." My frustration led to me slamming down the to-go cup with a little too much force.

With a hand sweeping through his dark hair, the man studied the café, oblivious to how desperately I wanted him to leave before I did something stupid. "Looks pretty quiet in here."

"Not many people are brave enough to slam an espresso shot right before bed."

"Come sit with me for a while." It wasn't really a suggestion and any other man talking to me like that would have made my hackles raise. But this was different somehow. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled or the way he cocked his head to one side, as if he were truly hanging off my words.

I had never done anything like that before. This was my job. But Dawn and Armond didn't care about this place. This was all just a cover. And I was taking care of my parents, hunting down a toxic species, and trying to keep my team afloat. I deserved some time to do something for me. even if it was just sitting down with a handsome stranger.

With my jaw set, I undid the apron around my waist and shucked it on the counter. Iced coffee in my hand, I picked my favorite booth. Far away from the door, close to the artwork, snuggled up to a small fireplace. I sank into the leather before I even had a second to wonder what I was doing or why I was giving this guy so much attention.

"I don't know you," I announced before I could consider against it.

He didn't seem bothered, sinking into the thick leather couch across from me. His knee starting bouncing instantly. "Do you know everyone?"

"Probably not everyone in this town, but everyone who likes to have coffee at least once a week and doesn't care to brew it themselves."

"I guess it is a small town," he mused. A thumb ran along his sharp jawline, brushing against dark stubble. "I'm here on work for a few months and I don't think I'll be brewing my own beverages while I'm here." There was a glimmer in his eyes, making the silver ripple like mercury.

Heat rushed to my cheeks and suddenly, meeting his gaze felt too intense. I stared down at my cup, studying my fingers. I wasn't this kind of girl. I never wanted to be this kind of girl. But I felt like I couldn't help it.

"Are you doing construction?" I asked. It seemed like a silly question, but in a quiet, small town, I couldn't fathom what else it could be. We were mostly self-sufficient and with no major cities around, the most common cause for traveling workers was new construction. Not much else happened around here. When the school got an upgrade, it was the talk of the town.

"No, not construction. I work in protection services."

"Oh?" The piqued my interest. "I wasn't aware that there was a celebrity in town or anyone rich enough to have their own task force."

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" he teased, reclining back into the cushions. "To be honest, the people I work for don't really need me. It's more of a public statement than it actually is security."

"Do they travel around like the pope? Because, if not, security is a risk for everyone. Anyone can get their hands on a gun."

He let out something between a snort and a laugh. "Guns aren't really a common issue for us. But my work is boring."

"I doubt being a barista is more exciting," I dismissed, feeling myself soften into the conversation. There was something about this man that was just so magnetic. I felt like I had known him forever, but his words were still so electric.

"Well, you can always tell me about you. You know, normal things, like your name."

I gave him a sly smile but said nothing, confidence blossoming in my chest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a phone vibrating cut him off. Apologizing, he pulled his cellphone out of his front pocket. Eyes roving across the screen, a curse tumbled out his mouth.

"Is everything alright?" I prompted, though I wasn't really certain that I had the right to know.

"Uh, no, not really. Listen, I'm actually really happy we had a chance to talk today." He said the words, but the easiness had left him, turning him almost frantic.

"Yeah, me too."

He was on his feet in a second, hunting down a newspaper from another table. I sucked down a mouthful of my iced coffee, trying to wrangle the feelings brewing in my belly. He reappeared before I could even begin to name my own emotions.

"I really hate to leave," he said. I must have been too far gone, because he sounded quite genuine and I believed him. "Unfortunately, when things go wrong in the security business, they go very wrong. But, I'd like to meet up with you again, preferably not at your work." A piece of the torn newspaper was deposited in my hand, now covered in blue ink. "Call me if you want to meet up sometime."

"I—"

"Please," he insisted.

Then he was gone.

And I was left with nothing but my coffee and the scrap of paper. A phone number stared up at me from my palm. And a name.

Ryder.

~~~Distraction Section~~~

I apperciate all of you being so patient through tax season.

How do we feel about Ryder?

Question of the Day: Who is your hero?