4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Silas

I set the pumpkin spice latte and warmed cinnamon bun on the counter. "Mrs. Geordie, your order's ready," I call to the older woman.

At least I think she's older—Mrs. Geordie wears more makeup than a circus clown and sports decidedly young clothes. Today's combination is a cropped Hello Kitty T-shirt complete with sequins, and ripped jeans so baggy she could fit her dog in there. Said dog is pulling at his leash, salivating at the thought of getting a bite of the cinnamon bun Mrs. Geordie will give him as she gossips about the upcoming royal wedding of Prince Kalle and my cousin, Edie England.

There's enough bun for the both of them; Sweets Ashore, the town bakery that supplies them has been making them bigger and bigger for a while now.

"Nathalia, watch the frother," Leodie says, a note of irritation in her voice.

That note has been there for a while. Three weeks and two days to be exact, ever since I was forced to hire Nathalia because of a lack of anyone else .

I have a good team. Leodie has become one of my best friends, and Jem is a riot to be around with his pop culture genius that has him randomly quoting movie dialogue and song lyrics. Daphne, who used to work here—

But Daphne is gone and I had to find someone else, so Nathalia came aboard. I suspected from the start that it wasn't a good idea, but I was desperate. Having the store open ten hours a day, every day, with only three to staff is a bit much. I'd love to replace Nathalia with two others, but hiring and firing is my least favourite thing to do.

The door opens again, and with it comes a gust of chilly October air. Cheerful fall sweaters and brightly coloured scarves have been the norm around Battle Harbour since early September because when the wind starts coming down from the Arctic, it gets cold around here. Today is one of those days; the bright sun is hidden among ominous gray clouds.

There has been a rumour of snow all morning but I think it's too early. The wind will clear things up and we'll have sun again tomorrow.

At least I hope. We're busier when it's nice out.

I make coffee, warm up pastries. I smile and chat, and wish everyone a nice morning. I do the same thing every day, and I do it well.

Coffee for the Sole might not have been my first love, but it does have a big piece of my heart and I'm happy here.

The door opens again and brings a burst of laughter with it. I don't look up until I hear Leodie's gasp .

An actual gasp, so I check it out.

Prince Gunnar walks in, which is no big surprise, nor is seeing him with Stella Laz, his new girlfriend. Leodie's reaction comes from who is with them: the dark-haired, extremely good-looking man who looks around like my shop is beneath him, and Fenella Carrington.

Fenella Carrington.

I blink and she's still here. Still here and moving closer, close enough for me to take in the drops of rain gleaming like diamonds in her black hair and the way her pink scarf brings out the colour in her cheeks.

"Ash, stop being a Starbucks snob," Fenella says to the dark-haired man as she approaches the counter. "If you want coffee, this is the place to get it."

"Considering we don't have a Starbucks here in Battle Harbour, you'd be out of luck," Stella adds.

"What kind of place doesn't have a Starbucks?" he mutters, and I recognize the etched cheekbones as belonging to Ashton Carrington, Fenella's twin brother.

I'm not sure who catches more of Leodie's attention—her gaze switches from Ashton to Fenella and back again like she's watching a tennis match.

There are two customers between the group and me, and time slows down to a crawl while I serve them.

She's just a girl , I tell myself. She won't even notice me.

Why should she? It's Fenella Carrington. I just saw her very public breakup online.

And what do I say about that? Sorry about your loss? Nice aim with the ring?

"Hi, Silas," Stella says. "Can I get my regular?"

"Sure thing. The dogs don't need you today?" Stella runs Catch a Pet rescue centre and is single-handedly responsible for the lack of strays in town, cats and dogs both.

Is it my imagination, or do Stella's cheeks turn a becoming shade of pink? Maybe not as becoming as Fenella's scarf reflection, but still attractive. "Ajax is there," she tells me stiffly. "And I've hired a couple more because I'm taking time off—"

Prince Gunnar drops his arm around her shoulders and I swear, most of the women in the shop sigh in unison at the affectionate gesture. "More travelling. We're out of here next week."

"Sounds great." I don't have to ask Gunnar what he wants because he always gets the same—Americano with a shot of hazelnut—but I turn to Ashton Carrington with an expectant smile.

I'm a man content with my appearance, but it's hard not to feel intimidated when faced with Ashton's model-like attractiveness. He's a cross between Timothée Chalamet and the tall guy from Euphoria, and I have no idea how he fits those shoulders into a race car.

"What's good?" he asks brusquely.

"Everything," Fenella answers for me, pushing her way before her brother. "He'll have the same as me—"

"Pumpkin spice latte with two pumps of pumpkin, one of vanilla, oat milk, and unicorn froth," I say.

Fenella's eyes widen with delight, and her purple eyes are so much more striking in person rather than on-screen. "You remembered."

"That's his job," Ashton drawls. "He gets paid to remember."

Ah. A good-looking jerk. But I force a smile at him anyway. "Pumpkin spice is a fall thing but you ordered it in the summer," I say to Fenella. "Hard to forget that."

She beams, and the brightness of her smile is like the sun cresting over the water."It's my favourite thing in the world."

That smile makes me feel like I'm her favourite thing in the world.

"You said that about the dirty martini you had last week," Ashton points out and Fenella scrunches her nose at him, making her model good looks suddenly more human.

There is nothing else down-to-earth about her—she's wearing a shiny pink puffer coat, open to reveal a tight, cream-coloured sweater tucked into wide-legged cream-coloured pants with a faint pink plaid and pristine pink running shoes.

Folks in Battle Harbour don't walk around dressed like that. Normal people anywhere don't walk around like that—or maybe they do. Fenella is the epitome of someone who has ‘come from away', which is what we call out-of-towners here in Laandia.

I think I may be paying too much attention if I notice the pink plaid of her pants, but how can you not? Fenella Carrington looks like she stepped off a magazine cover right into my shop.

"I'll get your order started," I tell them.

"Can I get a cinnamon bun as well?" she asks, taking out her phone.

"Sure." Because that's my job. I pour coffee and serve warm pastries for my customers, regardless if they are regulars or first-time tourists, if they have saved their change for a coffee or can buy and sell the entirety of Battle Harbour with their pocket change.

And the fact that Fenella smiled at me with her pretty purple eyes means absolutely nothing.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as she takes pictures of my shop. The pictures on the wall. The glass-fronted display case with the selection of pastries from the bakery.

I put that in after I took over the place from my parents.

Fenella continues to pan around the room, focusing on my brand-new and uber-expensive espresso maker and the float of steam drifting up.

Is that a video, because she's speaking to the screen?

"Enough," her brother finally says. "I thought you didn't want anyone to know where you are?"

"No one will know," Fenella says off-handedly. "Even if I post it, no one will recognize this place. It's so cute, though, isn't it?"

"Sometimes I wonder about your taste," Ashton grumbles.

Fenella elbows him. "My taste for pumpkin spice, you mean?"

Despite Fenella's lightheartedness, their comments don't feel great. Coffee for the Sole might be the first choice for coffee in Battle Harbour, but Battle Harbour is a tiny town on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. Big fish, small pond and serving Fenella and Ashton Carrington makes me so very aware of that. We're miles away from anything Fenella would consider interesting.

Why should I care about what she considers interesting?

Order in hand, the foursome waves as they take their leave. Leodie is at my side as soon as the door shuts after them. "Did that just happen?" she says excitedly.

"We have royal customers almost every day."

"Not Prince Gunnar— them ." Stars are shining in her dark eyes. I have seen Leodie's reactions of many things, but I've never seen her starstruck by a model/celebrity influencer, and her good-looking brother.

The Carrington twins are billionaires, but that doesn't make them any different than the rest of us.

I flash back to Fenella's purple eyes; maybe she's a little different. But different isn't always good.

"I heard she's staying at the castle," Leodie tells me excitedly. "Wyatt will blow his mind when he hears. Is he still stalking her online?"

"Who?" I ask, even though I know who she means .

"Fenella Carrington." She gives me a knowing glance. "I saw how she looked at you."

"She's a model. She's paid to look at people like that."

"Nope, there's something there," Leodie insists.

"She needed her morning coffee." I put a hand on the top of Leodie's head. I may not have the Princes of Laandia's height—those boys are tall drinks of water—but I'm a solid six foot and Leodie is pretty short.

She swats my hand away because she hates being reminded of the height difference, which is why I do it. "You're a very silly girl if you think there's ever going to be something there between Fenella and me," I inform her. "That's fairy-tale talk."

"But we live in Laandia and that's better than a fairy tale," she points out.

She does have a point.