Chapter 5In October, with pumpkins sprouting in unlikely places—shop windows, street corners, designs on bags and purses—and with the lush red-brown symphony of leaves in the wind, Don experimented with nutmeg, chocolate and spiced pears, coffee and plums. He’d managed a sort of spiced rum—nonalcoholic, though he wanted to try the alcoholic version too—infusion into a mocha, and he’d struck up a partnership with one of his favorite local breweries, and they were collaborating on a coffee stout; he saw Raine every day, even if for only a few moments, and the office cactus was thriving.
He was happy, for the definition of happy that involved his heart skipping a beat or two every time Raine smiled.
They were friends. They’d said so. That was good.
It wasn’t enough for his heart, which wan
