𝗨𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

Chapter three

Isabella's POV:

"Fuck off, Rowan," muttered Daniel, his gaze lingering on me like I was some kind of ghost. It was unnerving. His weird behavior made me feel unsafe, and I couldn't wait for them to leave.

The man I initially focused on—Andrew, my dad's best friend—finally spoke up. "We'll take what Rowan asked for, plus two hot coffees," he said calmly. "And Daniel, go clean your face before we head to the base."

I couldn't help but smirk as Daniel grumbled, wiping the remnants of pie off his face. Serves him right for being so irritating.

I headed to the kitchen to pull the cupcakes out of the oven while Ava packed the croissants from the display. The tension from the dining area followed me into the kitchen, a quiet reminder that something was off with these men. Especially him—the one who hadn't said a word yet, but whose presence filled the room like a storm cloud.

Once the cupcakes were on the stand, Ava grabbed one to box up while I started on the coffee. The silence was thick as I prepared the cups. Rowan sat down, trying to act casual, while Andrew flipped through a magazine. But I could feel someone's eyes on me, making my cheeks burn. When I finally glanced back, it was him.

Andrew broke the silence, his voice warm. "Isabella's coffee is the best. I've had a lot of coffee, but hers is different." His words made me smile. Andrew's been like an uncle to me, especially after my dad died. He's always supported my decisions, big or small.

When I was a kid, I'd visit New York with my dad and stay at Andrew's place. He's always been there for us, even after moving to New York when I was eight. My dad and Andrew kept in touch, calling each other every weekend. I used to love listening to their conversations—they had a bond I admired.

After my dad passed, Andrew was the first person I called when I decided to move to New York for school. He made sure I had a way to get here and even gave me his house key. He's always been there, and he still comes by the bakery every day for coffee.

"I'm glad you like my coffee," I replied, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot drinks I was making. My secret recipe—a teaspoon of cocoa and a hint of vanilla powder—was something my dad loved, though I never told him how I did it. It's a little piece of him I keep with me.

Normally, we write customers' names on their cups, but we stopped that a month ago after too many awkward mispronunciations. Still, my curiosity was getting the best of me. I wanted to know his name, the man who hadn't said a word yet but had all my attention.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. There was something about him—attractive yet off-putting—that made me uneasy.

Rowan was the first to answer. "His name is Noah."

Noah shot Rowan a glare that could've frozen fire. If I were Rowan, I would've been terrified. But all I did was grab a marker from my apron and write his name on the cup.Noah.

An interesting name. Why was I even thinking about that?

I had sworn off relationships after what happened between my parents. I couldn't handle getting attached to someone, only for them to leave me behind. Besides, I wasn't fully recovered from cancer. I wasn't ready for anything like that.

"Should I write 'Noah' on both cups?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Write 'Andrew,'" Noah replied, his voice deep and husky. It sent a shiver down my spine.I smiled at Andrew as I wrote his name on the cup, my heart warming at his presence. Andrew works for Noah, that much was clear. But the way they interacted was intriguing.

"I'm going to check the stock in the kitchen; condoms will be arriving soon," Ava announced suddenly, breaking the tension.

The men stared at her, clearly confused. Honestly, I didn't blame them.

"'Condoms' is our nickname for the owner. He's a jerk," Ava explained with a smirk.

Everyone chuckled except Noah. He hadn't cracked a smile the entire time.I printed the bill. "Eight dollars," I said, glancing up at him.

Noah handed me a ten-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he said, his tone dismissive.

"Thank you, but I don't want it," I replied, rolling my eyes. If Mr. John, aka "Condoms," found out I accepted tips, he'd probably dock my pay by ten times that amount.

Andrew cleared his throat, trying to smooth things over. "Isabella, darling, he was just trying to appreciate your hard work."

"I get paid for that. I don't need tips," I said firmly. Noah didn't argue. He just grabbed the money back, his expression unreadable.

I handed the pastries to Rowan, who muttered a quick thank you. Then, as I passed Noah his coffee, our fingers brushed. His touch was rough, yet it sent a flutter through my stomach that I wasn't prepared for. My cheeks heated up, and he noticed—of course he did. The smirk on his face told me he found it amusing.

Stupid skin.

I noticed Daniel's expression darkening, which only deepened the unease I felt.

Andrew walked over, took his coffee, and pulled me into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself, Isy," he said softly. The nickname made my throat tighten—my dad used to call me that.Daniel tried to hand me a tissue, but I didn't take it. Instead, I walked over to the counter, grabbed one myself, and wiped my eyes.

"You too, Andrew," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady.

I stole one last glance at Noah, hoping to read something in his eyes, but there was nothing. Just emptiness. I couldn't figure him out, and that bothered me.

After they left, Ava returned, announcing that everything was fine and organized in the basement. I nodded absently, sinking into the sofa. Ava sat across from me, lost in her TikTok feed, while I tried to focus on my studies. But it was impossible.

All I could think about were those dark, intense brown eyes.

Why am I even thinking about him?