Hazel didn't mean to flirt.
Okay, maybe just a little.
But only because the guy was charming, kind, and—most importantly—not Michael Graze.
He was the barista at the corner café she'd discovered that morning. His name was Luca, and he'd drawn a smiley face in her foam and complimented her earrings.
So when Hazel laughed—just a little too loud—and touched his arm—just a little too long—she didn't think much of it.
Until Michael showed up.
He had been on a business call, walking past the café with his assistant, when his eyes landed on Hazel inside—sunlight in her hair, latte in hand, leaning in toward a man who clearly wasn't just asking if she wanted almond milk.
Michael's voice caught mid-sentence. His assistant blinked at him. "Sir?"
He didn't answer. He was already walking in.
The café door chimed. Hazel turned—and nearly choked on her sip.
"Michael?" she squeaked. "What are you—?"
"I didn't know you were... socializing." He glanced at Luca, who was now politely stepping back, clearly reading the tension.
Hazel cleared her throat. "Oh, um, this is Luca. He works here. And makes fantastic foam art."
Luca smiled, unaware of the storm brewing behind Michael's polite nod.
Michael turned to her. "We have a lunch meeting. I need you there. Now."
Hazel frowned. "We do?"
He didn't blink. "Yes."
"But I thought—"
He leaned in slightly, voice low and firm. "Now, Hazel."
She grabbed her cup, waved awkwardly at Luca, and followed Michael out onto the street.
The silence was thick.
Hazel peeked up at him. "There's no meeting, is there?"
"No," he said flatly.
She snorted. "You pulled me out of a conversation for no reason?"
"I didn't like the conversation."
Hazel stopped walking. "Excuse me?"
Michael turned, jaw tight. "You were... laughing. Touching his arm. Smiling like—like—"
"Like I do with people who are nice to me?" she offered sweetly.
"You're married."
"Oh, now I'm married?"
He exhaled sharply. "You're missing the point."
"No, Michael. You're missing the point. You can't play husband when it's convenient. Especially not when you're the one setting all the emotional distance rules."
He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated for the first time in a while. "I didn't like it. Seeing you with him."
Hazel stared. "Are you saying you were… jealous?"
He looked away. "Don't be ridiculous."
She grinned. "You were totally jealous."
"I wasn't—"
"You were practically vibrating."
"I don't vibrate."
She stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Michael. But I gotta admit—" she rose on her toes, whispering near his ear—"it's kinda hot."
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
But as she walked ahead, sipping her coffee like nothing happened, Michael stood there, pulse racing.
For the first time, he realized:
Hazel wasn't just under his skin.
She was rewriting the code.....