The bell above the door of Sweet Haven Pastries jingled as Ethan stepped inside, escaping the bitter December wind. He hadn't planned to come here. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd driven to this small, out-of-the-way bakery.
The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread filled the air, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. The shop was simple, with mismatched tables and chairs, but there was a charm to it—a coziness that starkly contrasted with his usual world of glass towers and steel.
"Welcome to Sweet Haven!" a bright voice called.
Ethan turned, and his breath caught.
The waitress—no, the woman—standing behind the counter was striking. Not in a polished, magazine-cover way, but in a raw, unfiltered sort of beauty. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, stray strands framing her face. Her hazel eyes were sharp, guarded, and entirely uninterested in him—a rarity for someone of his stature.
"Can I help you?" she asked, raising a brow when he didn't respond.
"Coffee," Ethan said finally, his voice lower than usual. "Black."
The woman nodded, grabbing a cup. "Anything else?"
"No."
As she turned to prepare his order, Ethan found himself studying her. She moved with a quiet confidence, her movements fluid yet efficient. There was a fire in her eyes, a stubbornness that intrigued him.
When she set the coffee in front of him, he couldn't resist. "What's your name?"
She tilted her head, suspicious. "Why do you want to know?"
"Curiosity."
Her lips twitched, as if she was suppressing a smile. "Mia. Now, do you always interrogate your baristas, or am I special?"
Ethan smirked. "You're special."
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