When we exit the car, Delaney and I head towards the entrance of the charming little coffee shop known as Hansen's Coffee Roasters. It's housed in one of the small brick buildings, tucked between a sandwich shop and a cute little vintage thrift store, on the main street of the lake. And while Ellis immediately starts Instagram storying the moment for her followers, Delaney and I step inside.

We're immediately greeted by the aroma of freshly ground coffee, the gentle hum of Maisie Rhodes playing in the background and the hiss of the espresso machine going off.

It's cozy in here. It's the kind of place where I could easily spend hours reading a book or working on my laptop. Brick walls and warm, dark woods. Like a New York City apartment. There are a handful of customers scattered across benches lining one wall, while chairs are neatly arranged on the opposite side of the tables. My eyes wander to the adjoining room at the back, which is even cozier with bookshelves, a couch, with a coffee table.

To the left of the tables, a bookshelf proudly displays a modest selection of books (that I am definitely going to come back for because, hello, Ali Hazewood and Emily Henry), along with coffee beans, cups, and various other items for sale. All of this is set alongside a neatly framed collection of articles.

As Delaney approaches the counter to look at the menu, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I can't resist perusing a few of the articles. Of course, I'm intrigued, given that they are all articles from the Seattle Sun Times. I figure they must have some connection to the coffee shop's opening, the lake, or maybe the small town itself.

But no. Every single headline appears unrelated to the next: "Apples Surpass Peaches as Top Georgia Fruit Crop," "Don't Put Away Your Shorts: Seattle Summer 'Is Not Done Yet,'" and "Drunk Woman Steals Ferry while Shouting 'I'm Jack Sparrow.'"

And then a sudden realization washes over me as I scan the articles once more, this time paying closer attention to the bylines. There, beneath each headline, the name "Wells Hansen" repeats itself like a mantra: Wells Hansen, Wells Hansen, Wells Hansen, and Wells Hansen.

No, no, no, no, no.

Turning around, suddenly feeling panicked, I ask, "Delaney, what's the name of this coffee shop again?" But instead of Delaney, I'm met with the sight of Wells Hansen leaning casually against the counter.

"Well, if it isn't Juniper Jenkins," he says, a smile tucked at the edges of his lips. "I thought that was you."

His wavy brown hair appears even more tousled than usual. His striking forest green eyes lock onto mine as he leans his tall, lanky, yet oddly athletically fit frame against the counter behind him.

Dressed in light-washed jeans, a dark blue shirt with the coffee shop's logo on it, and a pair of dirty white Converse, he's in a much more casual look than I'm used to seeing him in. Typically, he wears slacks paired with a collared shirt or some sort of muted-colored grandpa sweater to the office. But right now, at this moment, with his T-shirt and tennis shoes, there's an undeniable boyish quality to his appearance, one that some might find cute, but definitely not me.

"Oh my god. No," I exclaim, taking a half step back. The little bell above the coffee shop's door chimes as it swings open, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Ellis walking in.

She looks at me as she walks up, her brow pinched as she asks, "What's wrong?"

"What are you doing here?" I say, directing my question at Wells.

"Well, it's good to see you too, Juniper," he says with a hint of sarcasm. "Did you drive all the way out here because you missed seeing my face in the office?"

"What? No. I didn't even realize you were gone," I lie because I have noticed his absence. My pens have mysteriously remained untouched.

His eyes dip once over my body, and I suddenly feel the need to cross my arms over myself. His brow quirks up as he asks, "Did you mean to dress like a walking traffic cone today?"

I huff out a scoff. "What are you doing here Wells?" I repeat, pointedly ignoring his comments while glancing down at my orange shorts and top. Do I look like a traffic cone?

"Or are you going for more of an 'Orange Is the New Black' look?"

My brows pull together in response, ignoring his jabs. I look down at the navy blue shirt he's wearing, with the logo of Hansen's Coffee Roasters. "What? Did Mitchell finally decide to fire you?"

"No? So, just like a giant orange then."

"Are you stuck here working as a barista now?"

He huffs out a laugh. "Oh no, Juniper. Mitchell would never fire me. Not with five of your articles being reassigned to me this month."

I scoff. It's true though, he has taken on more of my workload in the last two weeks, but I've been incredibly distracted by everything related to Beckett.

"I'm sorry. Do you guys know each other?" Ellis asks as she shifts her attention between the two of us.

"No," I respond simultaneously with Wells saying, "Yes."

Delaney, clearly amused by our banter, interjects with a widening smile, asking, "Who are you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. "Could this day get any worse?" I mutter under my breath, though it's definitely loud enough for them to hear.

I open them to find a smile tugging at Wells's lips, and I shoot him a glare in response.

"We work together at the Seattle Sun Times," he explains to Delaney and Ellis, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on me.

"This is Wells." I gesture towards him.

"Hi, nice to meet you both," Wells says, extending his hand to them.

"Delaney," she says, giving his hand a friendly shake.

"Ellis, nice to meet you, Wells," Ellis murmurs, her eyebrows still pinched together.

"Hansen. Wells Hansen."

"Oh," she says, then catches on with a brighter tone. "Oh! As in Wells Hansen, steals your articles, Wells Hansen?"

Wells, with a grin, directs his attention towards me again. "You talk about me to your friends, Juniper?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Only ever about the bad things."

"But, so you admit there are good things you like about me then?" He responds with a playful tone.

I let out a grunt in response, then shift my attention to Ellis and Delaney, both of whom are smiling at me.

Comebacks have never been my strong suit. And there's something about Wells that makes me feel like he's constantly one step ahead of my thoughts as if he instinctively knows just how to get under my skin.

He straightens up and moves around the coffee bar toward the register. "So, what can I get you guys?"

"What?" I respond, my voice tinged with confusion.

"I'm assuming you came here for coffee," he says, grabbing the apron off the hook against the wall, slipping it on before turning back to face us.

"If Mitchell didn't fire you, then why are you working at a coffee shop?" I ask, watch as his hands tie the apron in the back. He ties it crooked, and I kind of want to fix it for him.

"My sister and I own it. Well, she owns it, mostly," he clarifies, gesturing around the shop. "I come every summer to help during the busy season."

"Your sister lives here?" I ask, pointing downwards and raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not here, in the coffee shop," he chuckles, correcting me. "But yes, in town."

"I thought you said you were from New York."

"No," he says, shaking his head, his eyes tilting upwards towards the ceiling. "What I actually said was I went to school at NYU. I grew up here, just down the street." He points out the window, and I follow his gesture as if I can see his house from here.

"Oh," I reply, turning my gaze back to him.

He shifts his attention to Ellis and Delaney. "So what can I get you guys?"

Ellis clears her throat and shakes her head, stating, "I'll have an iced Americano, with room for cream."

"And I'll take the iced brown sugar latte," Delaney adds.

Finally, Wells turns his attention back to me. As I open my mouth to place my order, he interjects, "Let me guess, pumpkin spice latte?"

Delaney snorts out a laugh, and Ellis's eyes widen in amusement. But I can't help but clench my jaw tight. Irritation seeps into my tone as I correct him, "No, an iced Americano, no cream."

He grins down at his computer as he enters it in and we hand over our cards to pay. Wells then turns to go make our drinks.

"You do kinda look like you're from 'Orange Is the New Black,'" Delaney teases, giving me a once-over. I roll my eyes, giving her a shove in response.

I'm throwing this outfit away.

I cross my arms across my chest and turn to look around the coffee shop, avoiding direct eye contact with Wells. I listen to him make small talk with Ellis instead as he prepares our drinks.

"So are you here for the summer then?" I hear Wells ask.

I turn when Ellis doesn't respond, only to find him directing the question at me. "Oh, um, yeah, we come every year."

He nods, his eyebrows pinched together in thought as he lightly taps the steaming pitcher in his hand against the counter. "I'm surprised I haven't seen you around before."

"I think we've only been here a handful of times," I say, watching as he pours the milk into the Delaney cup, making a heart out of the foam. It's a perfect little heart and it irritates me how good he is at it. "Your coffee shop, I mean."

He nods again, briefly glancing up at me before placing the lid on the cup and sliding over the three drinks. "Here you guys go."

"Thanks," I say, reaching for our drinks.

I follow Ellis and Delaney towards the exit, my hand on the door, ready to step out into the sunshine. Just as I'm about to leave, Wells calls out, "Hey, carrot cake."

I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment as a surge of irritation washes over me, knowing he's referring to me and my outfit.

I turn around to face him. "What?"

He grins. "I'll see you around."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I turn around. Raising my hand, I flip him off from behind me as I walk out. His laughter follows me as the door clicks shut behind me.

I quickly jog to catch up with Ellis and Delaney, who are halfway to the car now. Flustered, my cheeks flush a tad red from irritation.

"That's Wells?" Ellis questions the moment she spots me. She raises an eyebrow. "Why have you never mentioned he looked like that?"

"Looked like what?"

"June," Delaney says, turning to me as she walks backward, "what Ellis is trying to say is that your friend is hot."

"Oh my god, no. We are not friends. Half the time we aren't even friendly. He's a jerk, and he's annoying, and he's infuriating." I say ignore the other half of her comment because he is not hot.

"Juniper Jenkins," Delaney says, her jaw dropping slightly, "Do you have a thing for your coworker?"

I scoff. "What! No! I don't!" I retort, my voice rising a notch higher than intended. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Oh my god, she does," Ellis interjects, her eyes widening at my reaction as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"No, I—I mean, no." I shake my head.

They both giggle over my reaction.

"Why is that so funny?"

"Well," Delaney begins, biting down on her lip as she tilts her head in thought. "You kinda look at him the way you look at pizza, or like junk food."

I pause, perplexed by the comparison. "What? How does that even make sense?"

I take a sip of my americano as we continue to walk to the car, glancing down at the plastic cup with the Hansen's Coffee roaster logo.

Damn, he makes good coffee.

"You get that look on your face," Delaney continues as we all climb back into the car. "It's like this look that says, 'I hate that I love this so much.'"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I do not have that face."

"You're right," Ellis says, scrunching her nose from the driver's seat. "She kinda does get that face."

"No, I don't," I groan. "I literally can't stand the guy. And besides, when would I have even had time to develop this so-called crush you think I have? I've been with Beckett ever since I started working for the Times."

"Well, you never know, Juniper," Ellis says, shrugging at me through the rearview mirror. She takes another long sip of her coffee through her straw before her eyes widen as she looks at me again. "Oh my god. He could be your Joe Fox."

I scoff again. "He is not my Joe Fox. And even if that were true, which it's not!" I pause to look at both of them, Delaney raising her hand in surrender. "There's a very strict no-dating rule in the office."

It's true. There's a strict no-dating policy at our workplace. After the infamous incident of 2019, which occurred before I joined the team, where the editor-in-chief, my boss, and the associate publisher had a nasty breakup, nearly tearing the company apart and forcing employees to choose sides, they established a strict rule to prevent any more office romances from causing chaos.

"Yeah, but who actually follows those?" Delaney says as Ellis eases the car out of the parking spot, starting our short drive back to the house.

"I do!" I assert, pointing to my chest. "I follow the rules. They're there for a reason."

Delaney thinks for a moment before adding, "But he is cute, though."

I roll my eyes and lean my head against the car window. "Ew, no."

"He is," Ellis chimes in. "He's got that Timothée Chalamet look."

"No." Delaney shakes her head as she takes a sip of her coffee."Shawn Mendes."

"Oh my god, you're right," Ellis says, glancing over at her in the front seat.

"But like a taller, older, and slightly more muscular version," Delaney adds.

"With a professor type of vibe," Ellis says, scrunching her nose playfully.

"Why don't you guys date him then?"

"Maybe I will," Delaney fires back, playfully sticking her tongue out at me.

"No! No boys this summer," Ellis says firmly to Delaney as she pulls into the driveway of her lake house.

Delaney sighs dramatically. "Okay fine, mom."

Ellis huffs out a laugh, shoves Delaney's face playfully, then pauses as she looks at me through the mirror. "You really don't think he's cute?"

I shake my head, letting it roll gently against the car window. "He's just not my type."

"Whatever, June," Delaney teases with a grin as the Audi's engine hums to a stop. "If Kylie Jenner thinks Timothée Chalamet is cute enough to date, then Will Hansen is definitely hot."

I roll my eyes. "Wells."

"What?"

I turn to her, my hand resting on the car door handle, ready to step out. "His name is Wells, not Will."

The two of them pause. Delaney shoots me a smirk while Ellis rolls her glossy lips together.

"What?"

"Nothing." Delaney's smile curves up even more, and she turns back to Ellis, her eyes going wide in a brief, conspiratorial exchange.

"What?" I press.

Delaney's grin widens as she says, "Oh, nothing, Juniper," before they both open the car door, leaving me sitting there, wondering what's behind those smiles.

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