Quinn didn't show up the next day. Crissy tried not to look up from her work every time the little bell over the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer...but she couldn't stop herself. And every time she looked, a faint stab of disappointment hit her right below the ribcage when it wasn't Quinn.

She really shouldn't care this much. He was a customer, nothing more. She already knew that...so why was she having such a hard time making herself believe it? She could still fill his firm handshake sometimes, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it.

As the day started winding down and there were only a few lingering customers at their laptops, avoiding the swirling Colorado snowstorm outside, Amy wandered into the kitchen, pulled out a container of chocolate ice-cream from the freezer, and set it on the counter next to Crissy. She stuck a spoon in Crissy's hand and pointed at the ice-cream.

"You've hardly eaten at all today," she said.

Crissy shrugged. "Not very hungry I guess. Too busy. I'm ready for Valentine's Day to be over already."

Amy gave her spoon a thorough licking, getting every bit of chocolate left.

"It's a blizzard out there, Cris," she said. "He'll come around tomorrow."

"I don't know who you're..."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, don't play dumb. Quinn. Mr. Sexy."

Crissy pointed her spoon at Amy. "You have to stop calling him that."

"I'm just saying what practically everyone is thinking."

"Not always a good thing. Besides, if you say it often enough, it makes my chances of accidentally calling him that to his face a hundred percent more likely."

"Well that would certainly make for an interesting conversation starter..."

"Amy," Crissy warned.

She sighed. "Fine, I won't call him that." She paused and took another large spoonful of ice-cream. "Out loud anyway."

Crissy started to protest, but she was cut short by the burst of Latin dance music blaring from Amy's back pocket.

"That would be my man," she said, hopping off her stool and pulling her phone out. "I'll be right back." She started to head out of the kitchen then paused at the door. "And don't think this is the end of the discussion. I'm totally pestering you more when I get back."

"I wouldn't expect anything different," she replied.

"Good."

Crissy shook her head. She really shouldn't care. She'd only seen the guy twice, one time to talk to him, and the other ogling him from afar which technically shouldn't even count. But she couldn't quite squash the feeling of disappointment that Quinn hadn't shown up. He'd been...nice. Friendly. She had liked the banter between them, no matter how brief and one-sided it may have been, since she was too tongue-tied to answer most of the time. She hadn't allowed herself to receive that kind of attention from a guy in...exactly two years. And a very small part of her enjoyed it.

Amy popped her head back into the kitchen and waved her phone in the air.

"Manu got stuck in the snow on his way home from the studio," she said. "And of course he forgot to put snow tire chains in the back of the truck. He's not going anywhere."

"That's what you get for dating a guy who grew up on the beaches of Venezuela," Crissy replied.

"Yeah, yeah, but he's cute. I better go rescue my prince charming from the snow-pocalypse. I'll pester you about McHottie later."

"Oh god, don't call him that either," Crissy groaned.

Amy giggled. "I only do it because it gets you all flustered."

Crissy shooed Amy out of the kitchen, half-shoving her towards the door. The coffee shop was deserted by now as the blue-black shadows of dusk stretched through the snow-laden streets outside.

"Go on," Crissy said. "I'll close up. Manu will be frozen solid by the time you get there."

Amy shot her a mischievous look over her shoulder as she stepped out the door, tugging her coat tighter around her against the biting winter wind. "Oh, maybe I should wait a little longer then, let him get really cold so I could have an excuse to warm him up."

"Ew? Leave and take your dirty talk elsewhere."

Once Amy was gone, Crissy let out a sigh. She loved Amy to pieces but when the shop was empty like this, it was her favorite time of the day, a time she didn't really care to share with anyone else. She flipped on some soft jazz music in the background and went around the shop, cleaning up, wiping down tables, drawing the blinds in the front shop windows. When everything was in its proper place, Crissy returned to the kitchen and dug out her box from under the sink. She carried back into the corner of the shop, kicked off her shoes, and settled into her favorite blue armchair.

For a moment, she stopped and took a breath. It was so quiet, so peaceful now. The faint whispers of snow hitting the window cast a soft accompanying undertone to the jazz. The pool of golden light from the single lamp overhead wrapped around her, warm, comforting.

Crissy nudged off the box's top and pulled out her binder, four inches thick and getting bigger every day. She dumped the articles and clippings onto the table. For years, she'd been saving them, tucking them away like the precious little treasures that they were. Clippings of French pastries. Swiss chocolates. Italian breads.

It was one thing, baking pastries of her own and doughnuts and bagels and whatever else the public would consume. It paid the bills. But it wasn't quite the same as working on skilled chefs. It wasn't the same as working in a real Parisian cafe or a real Italian bakery. Crissy ran her hands over the pictures attached to the pages of her scrapbook, some faded, others glossy and shiny. One day, maybe she could go. One day, maybe she could work under the expertise of a real chef, rather than testing recipes a thousand times on her own. One day.

Crissy didn't know when she fell asleep. She simply leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes for a second, imagining what it would be like spending her days doing nothing but creating authentic works of art in the form of food. The next thing she knew, she was jerked awake by a light tapping from...somewhere. Pale gray-white light seeped under the blinds and pooled across the floor. She'd spent the whole night here....

More tapping, more insistent this time, from the door.

Crissy tugged the purple blanket off the back of the chair, wrapped it around her shoulders, and edged towards the door. She nudged the blinds aside with one finger.

Quinn raised his eyebrows and smiled, holding up a cardboard tray with three cups of coffee. The snow was still coming down as hard as yesterday and it was stacking up on his shoulders, curling around his collar like a cat. A dark stocking cap was pulled low over his ears, creating a distracting compliment to the hard, square line of his jaw.

A small thrill shot through Crissy at the sight of him. And yet she hesitated to open the door. She didn't mean to leave him out in the snow, but she was alone and she hardly knew him.

Before she could make up her mind, Amy came around the corner, her shoulders hunched up against the snow. She waved at Quinn then turned and widened her eyes at Crissy in silent reprimand. Crissy unlocked the door and let them in, along with a gust of icy wind.

"I come bearing gifts," Quinn said. "I promise, it's not from a competing coffee shop. I brewed it at the firehouse, thought that would be a bit more acceptable. Consider that fair warning though."

He handed Crissy the first cup and his gloved fingers trailed over hers as she accepted it. Her throat seized up for a split second before she scolded herself and calmed down. Quinn handed the second cup to Amy.

"If you ever think of giving up the firehouse," Amy said, "you'll always have a place here. Professional coffee brewer."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he laughed.

Crissy said nothing, instead choosing to focus on the coffee and the welcoming warmth of it in her hands. She was very particular about her coffee, couldn't stand sludge at the bottom. But Quinn's coffee was light, with hints of cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla laced through the strong black flavor. She was lost in savoring every taste, rolling it around on her tongue, wondering how he had made it, when, to her horror, Amy held up her phone as she backed up towards the kitchen.

"I've got to take this," she said. "Boyfriend freaks out with all this snow."

Crissy glared at her in the most subtle manner she could at the bald-faced lie. Her phone had been silent the whole time. But Amy was already gone. And Crissy was alone. With Quinn. Shit.

"Did I come at a bad time?" he asked. "I can go, try again later."

"No," she said. "No, I just...I'm surprised you're here so early with all the snow."

He shrugged. "I grew up around here. It never slowed me down much."

Crissy glanced up, surprised. "I haven't seen you around before. Breckinridge isn't that big, we must have run into each other at some point."

"I wasn't here for a while. Left when I was sixteen. You know, stupid kid stuff. I moved back for my sister. She's on her third kid and she needs all the help she can get."

"So you get baby-sitting duty then?" she teased, slightly surprised at herself for feeling more relaxed already.

"I don't mind really," he said. "They're the most well-behaved kids I've ever met." He laughed and shook his head. "Wow, waving the uncle brag rag. Megan would never let me hear the end of that."

"Is Megan your sister?" she asked, gesturing towards a nearby table.

He nodded and eased into a chair opposite her. "What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

Her fingers tightened around the warm cup. "One sister, older than me. She lives in Denver. Works as an attorney."

"Whoa, that's..."

"A bit of a leap, I know," she said. "One sister an attorney, the other one works in a coffee shop. Trust me, it's been a source of debate over every single holiday dinner."

Quinn winced in sympathy. "Ouch, sounds like fun times."

"It feels a bit like a war zone to be honest," she said. This was definitely not the direction she wanted the conversation to be taking. Time for a change in subject. "So how long have you been back in Breckinridge?"

"Two months," he said. "I'm crashing at my sister's house outside of town when I'm off shift. As patient as she is, she doesn't appreciate her older brother bumming on the couch so I'm on the lookout for my own place." He fiddled with his coffee cup then pushed it away. "I didn't come to talk about me, though. I was going to ask you if..."

A rapid knock echoed at the door cut him off. Crissy barely managed to suppress a groan. Mr. Daniels was at the door, huddled in his faded red plaid jacket, the ear flaps on his hat tied into a perfect bow under his chin. He waved and smiled, his eyes disappearing in wrinkle upon wrinkle. He pointed at the CLOSED sign over the door.

"Are you ladies open today?" he asked.

It was as if a spell had been broken. Crissy had forgotten about the coffee shop, about how nervous she had felt when she saw Quinn again. Now the anxiety came flooding back and the weight of her responsibilities had returned in full force. She pushed her chair away and stood at the same time Quinn did.

"I'm keeping you from starting your day," he said. "I didn't even think about that."

"You're welcome to stay," she said.

"Thank you, but I should go anyway."

"Let me at least send you off with something. On the house. For the coffee. Which was amazing by the way."

Before he could protest, Crissy hurried over to the display case and slid three of the fattest caramel cinnamon rolls into a white box.

"What's the surprise today?" he asked as he accepted the box.

A small smile crept across her lips. "You'll have to find out."

�.