Excerpt: Mabel's POV
My mother and I have a way of bickering that would make a therapist cringe—or drive them straight to their own therapist after one session with us. I’ve often thought over the years it might be our love language, but even my old friend Neesha thinks it’s odd how my mother can show one face to Maple Falls while reserving another one only for me.
I go back to scanning the room as she talks to me. She’s moved on, chatting away about her plans for Maple Fest and an Ice Breakers-themed brunch she wants to host, when my gaze lands on someone I am not at all prepared to deal with, at least not right now.
Asher sits at a corner booth, with someone I guess is a fellow hockey player, judging by his size, hunched over what looks like the world’s most serious plate of pancakes. The expression on Asher’s face is like he’s trying to solve complex mathematical equations with syrup patterns. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low, probably thinking it makes him invisible in a town where everyone knows everyone’s breakfast order by heart.
Our eyes meet across the diner for exactly 2.3 seconds—long enough for my stomach to do something that feels suspiciously like figure skating—and instead of looking away like a normal person trying to lie low, his whole face lights up with this ridiculously genuine smile. Like spotting me in a crowded diner just made his entire morning. Real subtle, hotshot.
Mom’s still talking, prattling on about coordinating with the mayor’s office and needing my help with decorations—but her words are starting to fade into the background. Asher looks up again, catching me mid-stare. This time, he doesn’t look away immediately, and I don’t either. Instead, I feel the corners of my traitorous mouth tug upward, unbidden and entirely against my better judgment.
Great, now I’m staring back at him like some kind of diner stalker with a suspiciously enthusiastic grin. Fast as I can, I clamp down on it with such force my jaw practically clicks, replacing it with what I hope is a neutral expression.
“Mabel?” Mom’s voice cuts through my mental spiral. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes,” I lie, still peripherally aware of the hockey player who’s now paying way too much attention to his coffee cup. “Ice Breakers brunch. Very...brunchy.”
Mom follows my line of sight, and I watch her entire demeanor shift from frustrated mother to practically vibrating with small-town excitement. “Oh my goodness, is that—”
Before I can groan or stick out my foot to trip her as she takes off, Mom is in Mary-Ellen mode and headed straight for their table. Honestly, she’s such a stalker but I love her.
“Well, hello, Carson,” Mom says. She turns to me knowingly. “We met at the farmers’ market, what, last week?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the reason I’m here today. You told me about Shirley May’s pancakes, so I’m here to have some.” He looks at me and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Carson.”
“Carson Crane, also known as Bama,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m Mabel McCluskey, her daughter but also a reporter for Athletic Edge.”
Carson grins. “Very cool. You in town for a visit?”
“Here for some interviews,” I say, casting a look at Asher before snapping my attention back to Carson. “Would love to talk to you at some point, if you don’t mind?”
“Hand me your phone,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll give you my cell. Let me know when and I’m happy to talk.”
After he adds himself as a new contact and hands me my phone back, he points across the table to his companion while I slide into a seat at the empty booth opposite them. “Have you ladies met Asher yet?”
“Not me, but”—Mom flicks her hand my way as she joins me—“apparently my daughter has.”
Asher’s lips are pulled up at the corners with the biggest smile, but when I meet his gaze all I see in his eyes reflected back at me is pure delight. Mischief even. He taps his mouth.
“How’s it going?” he asks while Carson and my mother exchange a look.
“It’s fine, thank you. All fixed.” I grab a menu off a nearby table and flip it open, pretending there’s a need to scan it right now. I highly doubt Shirley May has changed anything on this menu since she opened her doors, but today I’m going to make sure of it.
“She’s not allowed solid foods for another hour,” my mother explains as if someone asked. She looks at Carson and Asher as she tosses a sympathetic look my way. “Chipped front tooth.”
“Mom.” The horror. She’s always loved to tell everyone about my business. Don’t get me started on my first menstrual cycle. She announced it to the church choir. “Carson and Asher don’t need to know…”
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