Rain tapped against the café windows in restless rhythm. Bella loved days like this—quiet, steady, when customers hurried in for warmth and hurried out again.
She didn't expect him back. She told herself he'd probably return to whatever shiny office he came from and forget all about a small café girl with no time for games.
But when the door swung open and the bell chimed, her breath caught.
Ethan Walker again.
Only this time, no suit. Black leather jacket, white t-shirt, dark jeans. His hair damp from the rain, sticking in unruly strands across his forehead. He looked nothing like the polished man from the last two days. This version of him… looked dangerous.
He strode in like he owned the place, shaking water from his jacket before dropping into a corner seat without ordering. He leaned back, legs stretched out, one arm draped lazily across the chair beside him.
Sophie leaned toward Bella with wide eyes. "Uh… are we serving coffee or auditioning for a biker movie?"
"Stop staring," Bella hissed, though she couldn't tear her own eyes away.
Ethan caught her gaze across the room and smirked, as if he could hear her heartbeat quicken. He didn't move, didn't call out—he just waited. Like he knew she'd come to him.
Reluctantly, Bella approached his table, notepad in hand. "Planning to order, or are you just here to scare away customers?"
He tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. "Depends. Do you scare easily?"
Bella stiffened, caught off guard by the boldness of the question. "Coffee, Mr. Walker."
"Flat white," he said smoothly, finally sitting up. "And maybe a reason you keep pretending not to notice me."
Bella's grip tightened on her notepad. "I don't pretend. I just don't care."
His smirk deepened, like he saw right through her. "Liar."
Her cheeks burned, but she turned and walked back to the counter, forcing her steps steady. Sophie nearly squealed as soon as she reached her.
"Oh my God, Bella. He's so not office-boy today. That's a leather jacket. That's a statement. You know what it says?"
"That he needs an umbrella?" Bella muttered, steaming the milk furiously.
"No," Sophie whispered dramatically. "It says: trouble. The delicious kind."
Bella ignored her, sliding the cup onto a tray and carrying it back to his table. She placed it down without meeting his eyes.
"Anything else?" she asked coolly.
He leaned forward, voice low. "Yeah. Your name."
"You already know my name," she snapped.
"Not the one on your tag."
Bella froze. For a moment, the world outside—the rain, the chatter, the clinking cups—faded into nothing. She didn't answer. Couldn't.
Ethan didn't push. He just sat back, sipping his coffee like a man with all the time in the world. But the look in his eyes made one thing clear: he wasn't going anywhere.
And that terrified her more than she wanted to admit.
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