Killian was exhausted by the time he made it to the small café the next day. It was closer to noon than it was to morning, but he was relieved when the same server from the previous evening ushered him over to the same table he'd been seated at the day before, and then handed him a breakfast menu. Killian wasn't the kind of person who needed coffee to survive the morning, in fact, he had never once consumed coffee in his life, but after spending most of the night wide awake reading a romance novel, he was craving something light and easy instead of a heavy lunch.

He ordered a large glass of orange juice and some toast before he cast his eyes around the space. The morning was slightly cooler than the previous one had been, but there were still a handful of tables around the terraced area that were already occupied. A young family was sitting at the one closest to his, eagerly speaking about their plans for the day and how excited they were to head to Nice. A middle-aged couple was sitting a few rows over from him, both reading the day's newspapers as they sipped at their coffee, and a few individuals who were dressed for everything from a day at the office to a morning on the beach were dotted around, consuming pastries and coffee or stew and Cola. But there was absolutely no sign of the angry English woman he'd met the evening before.

Killian ate his breakfast at a leisurely pace, watching the people around him and some from inside the café, come and go as he did. After about an hour of doing so, he reasoned that the angry English woman probably wasn't going to show. He debated asking his server if the guy had seen her at all that day, but quickly dismissed the idea. Killian didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she didn't like to be interrupted while she was reading, and he was pretty sure asking a stranger about another stranger would come off as a little stalkerish. So instead, he paid his bill and left a generous tip for his server, before heading back to his small home.

For the rest of the afternoon, Killian spent his time sitting on the master suite's balcony, working on his memoirs. The silence outside of his temporary home felt almost alien to him after a lifetime spent in New York City, but it was soothing in a way that he would never be able to explain. While Killian adored the city, there was something about the way the birds would go about their business without human interference, as he watched the clouds overhead roll in and out of focus, unobscured by skyscrapers, that felt almost magical.

The glory of nature was doing wonderful things for his muse and by the time he'd finished drafting the chapter he was working on, the night was starting to draw in. Killian considered the idea of skipping dinner and just going straight to bed. While his job gave him plenty of practice at pulling an all-nighter, he wasn't getting any younger, and those all-nighters had started taking a toll on him recently. However, he knew that if he went to bed on an empty stomach he wouldn't get a full night's sleep, so Killian quickly packed up his belongings to stash them away safely inside the house, checked that his wallet and the book were still inside his bag, and then headed out into the growing darkness.

Peillon by night was a little eerie, in Killian's honest opinion. The noise of New York City had always offered some sort of reassurance whenever he'd been out late in the evening. Even when he was alone, he'd always taken some measure of comfort from knowing that there was someone close by, should he need help. That wasn't the case in this tiny little French village. The moment he had his door locked behind him, Killian knew he was alone. There was a soft light in the bottom right window of the holiday home adjacent to his own, but the sound of his footsteps echoing along the street felt a little unnerving. Thankfully, it didn't take him long to reach the small café once more, and he was greeted yet again by the same server from breakfast that morning. Unfortunately, it also didn't take him long to realize that while there were a handful of couples enjoying a romantic dinner inside the café, he was completely alone on the deck.

For the next three days, Killian ate most of his meals at the small café, hoping for another glimpse of the angry English woman he'd met on his first night in the village. He kept her book tucked inside his bag, just in case they bumped into each other while he was out exploring the area, hoping for a chance to return it to her. (He'd already downloaded the sequel to his Kindle, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone else.)

By Friday morning, he had almost convinced himself that the angry English woman had clearly left town, so when he made his usual walk to the café down the street for a spot of breakfast, he was a little surprised to see a woman bent over another book in the same spot the last one had occupied.

It had been so long since he'd seen the angry English woman who'd thrown her book at him Monday evening, Killian wasn't entirely sure that this was the same person. Not while she had her face turned away from him. So instead of taking his usual seat at his usual table, Killian opted for one on the other side of it, so that he could keep her in his peripheral vision. He didn't want to be the kind of creep who flat-out stared at her until she finally raised her head, but he also didn't want to miss his opportunity to return her book.

He tried not to look her way too often. He honestly didn't want to risk offending anyone else while he was in the country, and he certainly didn't want to be labeled as 'the creepy old man staying in the holiday home down the road,' but he found his gaze straying her way more often than he could count.

Killian had just finished his breakfast and was considering ordering his third glass of juice that morning when she finally closed the last page on her book, set it down on the table in front of her, and then lifted her head to the sky. The moment she did, he knew that he'd found the woman he'd been looking for. He wasn't sure he'd ever forget her green eyes or the way her anger had burned brightly behind them.

Now that he had seen her in the harsh light of day, Killian was painfully aware that he'd grossly underestimated just how glorious she was. Her long blonde hair had been tied into a rough braid that fell over her left shoulder and bobbed enthusiastically as she spoke with the server that approached her. There was a row of glittering gemstones in each of her ears, climbing from the very bottom to the top of her lobe. Her smile was more comforting than the sunshine that was currently warming the back of Killian's neck, and if the two men around her were anything to judge by, it was also highly infectious. The sound of her laugh broke the silence on the deck and Killian felt the hairs on his arms raise with it. She was absolutely stunning, and he hated himself a little when that realization came because along with it was the understanding that the young woman sitting across from him was much younger than he'd first thought.

The server standing beside her gave a firm nod of his head before turning to make his way back into the café, and the young woman continued sitting where she was as her gaze moved over to the mountain range in the distance. Killian took a moment just to gather his thoughts and then reached into his bag to pull out her book. He would return it and then head back to his house to work on his memoirs, just as he'd planned when he'd booked his vacation.

As he approached her table he expected her to turn his way and fix him with another of her fiery stares, so when she didn't, Killian faltered for a moment. She looked deep in thought, and now that he was closer to her, he could see that she had a small notepad spread across her folded legs on her lap. He didn't want to interrupt whatever train of thought she was experiencing, knowing how she felt about interruptions, but he also didn't want to just leave the book and run away. Thankfully, before he could make a decision about what to do, she spoke up.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he asked, a little thrown by the abruptness of her question.

"Was it the good kind of gasp or the bad kind?"

She finally pulled her eyes away from the scenery she'd been staring at to fix him with another heated look.

"I uh… I guess it was a little of both?" he suggested, although it sounded more like a question to his ears. "I mean, it was a terrible place to leave a book if you have to wait for the sequel, but with the sequel already released, it's a clever place to break the story."

"You know about the sequel?"

That smile was beginning to brighten her face again and Killian found himself returning it without any conscious thought.

"I um… I might have Googled the series."

"… And?"

He hung his head momentarily to stare at his knees, and then whispered, "And I might have downloaded it to my Kindle."

She released a short bark of laughter that echoed around the deck, and Killian found himself lifting his head to watch as she did.

"You should have waited a little longer. The second book starts well but the ending is pretty crap. I was half-tempted to hurl it over this balcony but I didn't wanna risk hurting someone with it."

Killian chuckled as he looked down to the table and the novel that was resting upside down between them. Chancing his luck, he picked it up and turned it over, confirming that it was the sequel he'd just downloaded. He flipped through the pages briefly before he returned it to its original place, this time, with the cover staring up at them.

"I haven't read it yet," he said, although he was pretty sure that much had been obvious. "But I will, just so I have some closure about the story arc."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," she threw back at him.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of them. Killian wasn't entirely sure what to say to her now that he had exhausted the book conversation, and she was busy spinning a pen between her fingers, her mind clearly stuck somewhere between the conversation they'd just shared and whatever it was that she was working on.

Killian was considering returning to his table when she froze in front of his eyes, her back straightening and her shoulders rising. He watched with concern for a moment as she seemed to hold her breath completely before finally exhaling as she bent over her notepad and scribbled something down into it. When she was finished she clicked her pen, closed the pad, and slammed them both down onto the table beside her novel.

"Sorry. I've been trying to finish that for weeks now," she mumbled, almost absentmindedly.

"It's okay," Killian replied, because he felt like asking what she was working on would possibly be a little too intrusive for that precise moment. Instead, he decided to offer her a few words of wisdom. "I uh… I tend to find that whenever I'm stuck for words they come to me at the worst possible time. I thank Big Tech every day for making note-taking on phones a possibility. They're much easier to carry around with you than a notepad full of fragile paper."

"You're a writer?" she asked, turning her full attention his way as she leaned into the corner of her seat and draped an arm along the back of it.

"Uh…" This time, it was Killian's turn to freeze as he considered how much information he should reveal to her. He knew that his job wasn't exactly universally respected by everyone. While he tried his best to remain impartial in every aspect of his work, it was hard to hide his own biases at times, and they had earned him a fair few haters throughout his career. But it was also clear to him that the young woman sitting opposite him had no idea who he was, so it was entirely possible that she wouldn't care. Either way, he decided to ere on the side of caution and told her, "No. I'm a journalist."

"You say potato, I say potato," she threw back him, as she unfolded her legs, pushed back her seat, and began to gather all of her belongings. "Anyway, enjoy book two. I need to go and get this down before I forget everything I've done today. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied, a little started by her brusqueness. She had already squeezed her way around the table when he finally plucked up the courage to say, "Can I at least ask for your name?" It would save him the embarrassment of having to continually refer to her as the angry English woman he'd met on vacation.

"You can," she told him, smiling a little as she did.

Killian was pretty sure that the sight of his own smile was what caused hers to brighten, but when she spoke again, he realized that it wasn't quite for the reason he'd first thought.

"But that doesn't mean I'm gonna give it to you."

And with those final words, she pulled a set of headphones from her pocket, slipped them into each of her ears, and then made her way confidently down the street without ever looking back.

Killian watched her go until her figure disappeared entirely from his line of view. It was only when he made his way back to his seat that he realized he was still clutching her battered paperback tightly in his left hand.

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