Aurora felt her breath hitch at his words. There was no trace of a smile now, just a calm certainty in Jaxon's gaze that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"Well," she said, steadying her voice, "I hope it meets your standards."
Jaxon finally lifted his cup, taking a deliberate sip. He didn't react right away, only set the cup back down with a quiet clink. Then, the faintest curve appeared at the corner of his lips.
"Not bad," he murmured.
Aurora wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or a challenge.
Vernon, meanwhile, broke a piece of cookie in half and tasted it. His expression barely shifted, but his gaze flicked to Daisy again, who had returned to wiping down the counter.
"These are good," he said simply, his deep voice carrying easily across the small café.
Daisy, caught off guard, looked up. "Oh thank you! Fresh honey and a dash of cinnamon. Our grandma's recipe."
Her smile was warm, unbothered by his reserved demeanor. If anything, Vernon seemed momentarily caught off balance by it.
Mr. Frank chuckled, adjusting his tie as though to lighten the mood. "You see, gentlemen? This place has a charm you don't get in the city. Everything's personal. Genuine."
Jaxon's eyes lingered on Aurora as Frank spoke, as though weighing whether she was genuine too or if she was something else entirely.
Aurora busied herself with stacking saucers, refusing to meet his stare again. But the air between them hummed, heavy with something unspoken.
After a moment, Jaxon leaned back, folding one tattooed arm across the other.
"How long have you had this place?"
Aurora blinked, surprised he was asking. "The café? A little over two years. I wanted to create a space that felt… safe. Warm. Like home."
Jaxon tilted his head, studying her. "And has it been?"
Aurora faltered, his question digging deeper than she expected. "Most days," she admitted softly.
For the first time, Jaxon's expression shifted just slightly. A flicker of something that almost looked like understanding passed through his eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared.
Vernon pushed his empty plate slightly forward. "We'll take another batch of those cookies. To go," he said, glancing at Daisy.
Daisy grinned. "Coming right up!" She disappeared into the kitchen with a little bounce in her step, her energy a sharp contrast to the heavy stillness at Jaxon's table.
Aurora forced herself to breathe normally as she turned back to Jaxon. He was still watching her, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup.
"You run this whole place yourself?" he asked.
Aurora hesitated, her instincts telling her the question wasn't idle curiosity. "Mostly. Daisy helps when she can. But yes, it's my responsibility."
Jaxon's lips curved again, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Responsibility suits you."
Aurora's chest tightened, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. She placed her hands on the counter, grounding herself.
"Running a café isn't glamorous, Mr. Jefferson. It's just… hard work."
Jaxon leaned forward again, his gaze unwavering. "Hard work. Devotion. Control." His voice dropped lower. "I value those things."
The words lingered in the air between them, heavy with meaning Aurora wasn't sure she wanted to unravel.
Just then, Daisy reemerged with a neatly packed bag of cookies, handing it to Vernon. Their eyes met for a brief moment hers curious and bright, his calm but undeniably focused.
Aurora cleared her throat. "Would you like me to wrap up the cupcakes as well, Mr. Jefferson?"
Jaxon finally looked away from her, just long enough to glance at the cupcake box. Then, his eyes returned to hers.
"No. Leave them as they are." His voice was quiet, deliberate. "I want her to see them exactly how you made them."
Aurora's pulse stumbled. She nodded, unsure what to say.
As Mr. Frank began gathering his things, murmuring something about schedules, Aurora realized with a strange certainty: this morning had shifted something. Her café still looked the same sunlight spilling across polished tables, the smell of coffee and cinnamon in the air but the Jefferson brothers' presence had left an invisible mark.
And deep down, Aurora knew this was only the beginning.