Finding Love in a Coffee Shop

Cider

My stomach rumbled loudly as I poked my nose into my kitchen. About a thousand different, wonderful scents met my nose. "How's the cooking going?"

Will glanced at me, wrinkling his nose in that cute manner of his and pulling at the collar of his cashmere cardigan. "Hot."

"I'll bet," I laughed, nodding toward the oven, which was not only baking the turkey but also boiling just about every vegetable in the world on its four burners. Will was amazing and could manage to cook everything and anything all at once. He was even making homemade cider.

All the while looking adorable in my Kiss The Cook apron.

"So how'd you make out this morning?" I asked, referring to earlier when he'd gone to his house to scavenge whatever items he could. Someone had come to check it out the day before and dubbed some areas safe enough to walk through. So Will had entered in search of clothing, that way he didn't have to keep wearing my grandpa's old stuff (which was actually a sight to see).

He plucked at his black cardigan. "Well, this was saved. And my jeans."

And thank his jeans were saved. They were just tight enough to show off his ass, but not so tight you could see everything. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, most of my clothing, actually. Luckily. I hate shopping."

I smiled. Someone with money that didn't like shopping. Wasn't that something? "That's good. They figure out what caused the fire yet?" Because it definitely faulty wiring.

Turning his back on me, he shrugged his shoulders. "No, the investigation is ongoing."

"Is it suspicious?" I persisted.

"Maybe."

"Maybe dealing with those guys from your restaurant— oh my god," I said quickly, my eyes widening.

Will glanced over his shoulder at me, his mouth twisted downward. "What?"

"When I first moved in here, there were people looking for you," I told him, shifting my weight onto my left foot and crossing my arms. "I can't believe I forgot. Well, I can, because it's been busy, but that's not the point. I'm pretty sure they were part of the mafia. And the guy who spoke to me didn't sound too happy."

"Why didn't you say something before?" Will demanded.

"Because I didn't know I even had a neighbor. Your house is always dark. Speaking of which, are you a vampire?" I deadpanned.

Will half-smiled and shrugged again. "That's part of the reason why my lights are always off."

"What's the other part?"

"Saving the environment?"

I grinned briefly, before shifting my expression into something more stern. "Seriously, though. You can't tell me that those people, and the people from your coffee shop, and your house getting set on fire, aren't connected."

"Sure I can," he responded calmly.

"Will."

He let out a small sigh. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

I gaped at him, my pulse spiking. "You're kidding... you're part of the mafia?"

"What? No," he replied, eyes wide and amused. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"I don't know, they just seemed like that kind of people."

Will rolled his eyes, running a hand through his messy, dark hair. "No, I'm not part of the mafia. Or any gang. I just caused a lot of trouble when I was younger. You know how I'm the black sheep."