Rowan Ashford's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

The jacket was the wrong size and Rowan had no way to find the man it belonged to. She stood on the coffee shop steps with the shopping bag hooked over her wrist. The cold pushed through her wool coat. Two days ago she had spilled a full cup on a stranger's jacket, and he had laughed instead of shouting. She had gone back to the store, picked the same brand, and guessed at his shoulders. She had not asked his name. She had not asked his size. Now she had a jacket a size too small and no plan past standing here. She went inside. The girl at the counter recognized her from the spill and said the man had not come in that morning, or the morning before. Rowan asked if she knew his name. The girl said he paid in cash. Rowan bought a coffee she did not want and sat by the window for an hour. She watched every man who passed. None of them were him. When her cup went cold she understood the truth: she had one accidental meeting and no thread to pull. The town was small, but not small enough. She was going to lose him to a crowd of strangers in parkas. She was zipping the bag when a man in a green shirt stopped outside the glass and looked in at her. Black hair. Full beard. Green eyes. He was not wearing a coat, in this weather, which made no sense until he pushed the door open and the smell of onions and butter came in with him. He set a covered dish on her table before he sat down. "I asked the girl behind the counter to tell me if a redhead came in with a shopping bag," he said. "She called me twenty minutes ago. I live four doors down." He nodded at the dish. "My grandmother's stew. I wanted to bring you something before you gave up on me." Rowan stared at him. She had spent two days building a search out of nothing, and he had built a net in an afternoon. She pushed the bag across the table. "It's the wrong size," she said. "I didn't ask." He opened it, checked the tag, and smiled. "Close enough. I'll trade it tomorrow." Then he wrote an address on a napkin and slid it to her. "Come for dinner. Bring the jacket if you want. Don't, if you don't." He left the stew and walked back out into the cold in his shirtsleeves. Rowan folded the napkin into her pocket. The obstacle was gone. In its place sat a warm dish, an address, and a man who had found her first.