Brooding Rebel to Baby Daddy

you—people like to tell me things. As if I’m a hairdresser, taxi driver and priest combined. And you’re the talk of the town.”
Sable shifted on the stool. “And now that you’ve met me what will you tell them?”
“That my doughnuts are fresh and my coffee is the best in town.”
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. For she believed him. And it had been some time since she’d felt as if she had someone on her side.
Then, right as she began to feel better about things, there came a rush of cold air from outside, right as the brass bell rang over the door.
Bear looked up, his smile appreciative. Flirtatious.
And by the way the hair on the back of her neck stood on end Sable knew—someone dark, strong and hot had just walked through his door.
“Hey, Bear,” an all too familiar voice rumbled behind her. “What’s the big emerg—?”
Like a subtle shift in the air, a vibration that sang through her bones, Sable felt the moment Rafe saw her. Recognised her. Even before his words slammed to a halt.
Had he heard she was back? Or did he simply know the shape of her, the way she’d have recognised the shape of him anywhere?
Bear cleared his throat. Motioned to her with his eyes. Reminding her that wanting to be invisible and actually achieving it were two very different things.
Sable turned slowly on her stool. Her cheeks burning. Blood roaring behind her ears.
And she looked up to see Rafe Thorne—the boy next door, her first love, the man who held her future dreams in a simple yes—standing right in front of her for the first time in nearly a decade.
She’d prepared herself for this moment. Practising conversations with herself in the mirror in the bathroom on the plane. But seeing him, in the flesh, it all went out of the window.
For the boy she’d known was no more as he’d been honed into a man with fierce abandon.
She was powerless to stop herself—her eyes roved. Taking in the curl of his cowlick. The bumps of his knuckles. The solid strength of his throat. Hair still thick, still curled, still wild. Stubble covering a hard, tight jaw. Lips that had always made her knees go weak.
Dark chambray shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows showcasing forearms laced with the kind of roping veins that made a girl swoon. Collar unironed, top button undone—no, missing, having fallen from its length of unspooled cotton. Jeans softened in places where they’d been made to work hardest—knees, pockets, zipper. Rugged brown boots with the toes scuffed, the laces fraying.
Twinge, skitter, thump.
Now that there was no longer a planet between them her heart went on a rampage behind her ribs.
In both hands he held a piece of...something. She couldn’t tell what. But it was a habit he’d had, even as a kid. Picking flowers, or grass stalks, as he’d passed, knotting them, stripping them, folding them... Those ingenious hands of his always needed to be occupied.
The flash of familiar brought her consciousness back into her body. Until she could feel the stool beneath her backside. The uncomfortable heat in her cheeks. The tremble in her legs.
For this was why she’d come home.
Not to flee the disintegration of her old life. Not even to see Mercy.
She’d come home for Rafe.
To ask a favour of him she’d never consider asking of anyone else. A favour that would change her life.
For she planned to ask him to father her child.
Not to help her raise it, or even know it for that matter. She wanted nothing from him bar his DNA. Then he’d never have to see her again.
She slid from the stool, the clack of her heels on the tiled floor jarring in the heavy silence. “Rafe,” she said. “Hello.”
Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t say a word. His eyes cavernous, the deep dark depths giving nothing away.
She hungrily searched his face for a way in. For anger. Hurt. Surprise. For pleasure. Something.
Anything but ambivalence. It was the one emotion she’d never been able to match.
Then Rafe’s gaze lifted away from hers, caught on the big man behind him, and he said, “You, I’ll talk to later.”
Then he turned on his boot and walked out of the door. The brass bell singing prettily before the door shut with a decisive snick.
What? Wait! No!
Words spluttered and puffed inside Sable’s head.
Until Bear said, “Go! Go after him.”
And as if she’d received a metaphorical shove in the back, Sable rushed forward, dragged the door open and hastened after Rafe.
Past the trees growing out of little garden squares in the concrete, and out onto the road, her boots slipping on the rain-slicked bitumen. Her coat swung heavily as she spun in a full circle. The avenue was vacant in both directions. Unless he was hiding behind one of the cars parked at an angle towards the shopfronts, he’d vanished.
She let her arms drop to her sides and sighed.
What did she expect, showing up out of nowhere the way she had? That there’d be enough water under the bridge. That time would have healed all wounds. And whatever other naff sayings she could pull out.
She should have planned this better. Worked harder on the first words she’d say when she saw the guy again. Something more persuasive than a breathy, Rafe. Hello.
“Ugh!” Sable went to make the long walk home, to make a plan for a proper ambush, before she remembered she’d left her camera in The Coffee Shop.
She turned to head back inside only to catch a glimpse of blue out of the corner of her eye.
Rafe sat on a set of rusty stairs tucked into the alleyway between the café and Mike’s Bikes next door. One boot on the ground, another on a step, head down as he toyed with whatever was in his hands.
Heart thumping like crazy, Sable headed down the alley. Her shoes scraped on the wet concrete and Rafe stilled, his nostrils flaring, before he tore the piece of grass he’d been