He sat alone with a phone resting in his palm.
The screen glowed softly, lighting the angles of his face while a video played. Not live… A recording.
The angle was high and slightly curved, the familiar distortion of a lens built into a smoke detector. The timestamp marked it as earlier that morning.
The café filled the frame from above.
He let the footage roll.
There she was… Aislinn. Moving through the shop, apron strings trailing behind her, hair shifting every time she turned her head. Her dragonfly pendant caught the overhead lights in tiny flashes.
He watched her laugh with the woman beside her. Watched her sit. Watched her soften for a moment in a way most people would miss unless they were looking closely.
He always looked closely.
He tapped the screen, sliding the video back several seconds. A door opened on the recording. Two men stepped inside together. He did not zoom in on their faces. He did not need to.
He watched the way they moved toward her.
The first approached her with familiar ease, leaning close enough that his hand brushed her arm when he reached her. The second came up behind him, posture steady, eyes on Aislinn even before he spoke.
He watched both men in silence.
Watched the way she reacted to each of them, the way they hovered protectively.
Watched the way the first leaned toward her, the way the second squeezed her shoulder.
Then, a moment later… He dragged the bar back again to watch it a second time.
And a third.
Each time, the movements looked the same… her reactions remained unchanged.
His thumb rested lightly on the screen. Not tense. Not trembling. Just… still.
He let the video continue, watching the moment when the two men left the café, boots heavy on the tile. Aislinn stared after them, expression soft with lingering emotion before she shook it off and went back to work.
He froze the frame on her face and stroked his thumb across her face.
He closed the recording and the screen dimmed to black.
His own reflection stared back. Unruffled. Composed. Patient.
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
***
Aislinn eased back into her rhythm behind the register. Swipe. Tap. Smile. Thank you.
Simple movements. Predictable motions. A tiny corner of her life that felt safe, manageable, almost steady.
Hadley wiped the counter like she was trying to erase a traumatic memory. "If one more person orders a caramel drizzle crime scene, I am staging a revolt." Her voice was flat with exasperation but her eyes sparkled in that way that said she lived for this madness.
"You have staged three already," Aislinn said, still focused on the register.
"That just means I am reliable."
"You put it in your wedding vows."
Hadley lifted her chin with haughty offense. "And Cole pretended to cherish it."
Aislinn laughed. The sound escaped her before she could stop it. Soft. Unburdened. It surprised her, tugging something loose between her ribs.
The door chimed.
Hadley's head snapped toward the entrance so hard her ponytail whipped like a weapon.Her eyebrows shot up in a silent holy hell.
She leaned in close, shoulder brushing Aislinn's, breath warm against her ear.Her whisper came out sharp and reverent. "Do not look immediately, but the man who just walked in is illegal levels of gorgeous."
Aislinn smiled to herself, eyes still on the register screen. "Hadley…"
"I am not making it weird. I am making it factual. "She paused for maximum drama. "He also has strong bad-decision-at-a-wedding energy."
Aislinn snorted under her breath. "You need help."
"I need him to need help. Preferably mine."
"Hadley, I will tattle to Cole..."
"No you won't... Look."
Aislinn finally glanced up.
Two men stepped in from the chilly spring air, brushing the cold from their jackets.
The first man was broad-shouldered with an easy, lopsided grin. He moved through the doorway like the kind of person who high-fived strangers at the grocery store.
The second man. Her breath dipped.
He was tall in a quiet way, as if unaware of the shadow he cast. Dark hair, a little unruly, thick enough that her fingers almost itched to touch it. A jaw dusted in scruff, that perfect in-between stage that looked intentional. His fitted work shirt stretched comfortably across strong shoulders and a chest built from actual work, not gym mirrors. Hands rough and capable. Veins pronounced across his forearms. His eyes were green-blue, neither color fully winning, shifting like the ocean under a cloudy sky.
He carried a seriousness, a thoughtful stillness, like someone who noticed more than he said. But there was something soft tucked behind it, something bruised or careful that made her heart tug unexpectedly.
And when he glanced up and their eyes met…
A spark.
A flicker of something warm. Quick. Sharp. Recognition without reason.
Not overwhelming. Not a cosmic collision. Just a subtle jolt, lodged low and quiet in her chest.
Her pulse stuttered.
She looked away fast, pretending to focus on a smudge on the screen that absolutely did not exist.
Hadley exhaled like she had witnessed the birth of romance itself. "Oh, sweetheart. That one is trouble. Sexy, morally questionable trouble."
Aislinn elbowed her, cheeks warming.
Before the men reached the counter, their conversation drifted over.
The broad one nudged the taller man. "Mason," she guessed instantly. He spoke loud enough to entertain the pastry case. "You cannot fix a Victorian banister by glaring at it."
The dark-haired man sighed. His voice was low, textured, a quiet rumble that lingered in the air. "The mortise joint is wrong and you know it."
"I know you think everything is wrong before coffee," Mason said with a smirk.
"You agreed with me yesterday."
"I agreed so you would stop ranting about dead carpenters."
Declan muttered, "Their craftsmanship deserves respect."
Mason clapped a hand on his back like he was comforting a moody grizzly. "This is why we are getting coffee. So you stop trying to invite them haunt the house."
Aislinn bit her lip to hide the smile pulling at her mouth.
The men approached.
Mason grinned, all friendly energy. "Morning."
Declan lifted his eyes to hers again.
Awareness flickered between them. Quieter this time. But unmistakable.
Aislinn straightened subtly, smoothing her apron as if that would steady her voice. "Welcome in. What can I get started"
Mason leaned casually on the counter, elbows splayed. "Triple-shot extra caramel, caramel macchiato, the bigger the better."
Hadley snorted in a way that was only polite if you assumed she had a sinus problem. The teenager waiting for his drink turned at the sound.
Aislinn fought a smile. "Of course. And for you"
Declan hesitated for a breath, his gaze dipping to the dragonfly pendant resting against her collarbone. Something unreadable flickered in his expression.
He forced his eyes back to hers. His Adam's apple shifted in a small, betraying swallow.
"Just… coffee."
"He means a large drip," Mason said brightly.
Declan shot him a jaw-tightening glare. "I can order for myself."
"Sure you can, buddy."
Aislinn's lips curved, soft and amused, as she typed the order with one hand and unconsciously lifted her other to touch the dragonfly pendant, rolling it between her fingertips.
Declan's eyes flicked to the movement. Almost imperceptibly, his breath caught.
***
The video was not live. He knew that. The timestamp marked it as nearly an hour old.
Still, he watched it like it was happening in real time.
He took a slow bite of his sandwich, eyes fixed on the small screen in front of him. His shoulders stayed loose, expression unchanged, the picture of someone casually scrolling during a lunch break.
No one would notice the way his thumb slid the video back a few seconds.
There she was again. Aislinn behind the counter. Laughing softly. Lifting her hand to her necklace. Looking up at the tall one.
That smile. Warm. Real. New.
He watched the moment twice more, quiet breaths steady and controlled.
Her eyes met the man's. A spark jumped between them, too quick for most people to catch.
He caught it. His jaw tightened by the smallest fraction. Barely a change at all.
He replayed a few more seconds. The taller man stepping closer than necessary. The broad one leaning in, talking loudly. Aislinn smiling again.
He paused the screen on her face. Studied it. Committed the expression to memory.
Not fear. Not discomfort. Warmth.
He finally set the sandwich down, wiped his thumb clean, and locked the phone.
Whatever she thought this was. Whatever she felt in that moment. It was new.
He stood and slipped the phone into his pocket, expression returning to its familiar stillness. Lunch break was over.