A/N: I had no idea that the muse would strike again so quickly after finishing Dawnguard. In fact, I thought for sure I was going to have a really hard time coming up with any idea I liked as much as Dawnguard. It turns out, I was wrong! :)

Inspiration for the setting comes from 4x11. Which is actually the town I live in and excited me so much when I saw it flash across the screen in front of adorable little teenage Emma's face that I fangirled about it for a full week. Dumb. Totally wasn't filmed here. But I hope to use it well and make it a refreshing change from the typical New England setting. ;)

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Emma Swan shuddered as she stepped out of her little yellow Volkswagen. She turned up the collar of her red leather coat in an attempt to the shield herself from the brisk wind that whipped around her and made her face ache. She climbed into the back to get her son Henry out of his car seat. He was a little more than two years old and he was a full-blown hurricane of energy and curiosity and sweetness. Like all toddlers, he was also frequently prone to full blown meltdowns, particularly when he was tired or bored or lacking the proper amount of stimulation.

Needless to say, moving to Minnesota in the dead of winter had been particularly trying for little Henry, who missed the freedom of perpetual summer in Tallahassee. Being cooped up all day in a two bedroom apartment with his mother or nanny and occasional trips to Target for apartment decor were not his idea of a good time. Sadly, the brutal weather allowed for little else.

It had been equally trying for his mother. There were a few things that appealed to her about taking the job as Sheriff of Richfield, Minnesota. For one, she was familiar with the area, having spent a few months as a teenager at a foster home in the small, suburban town. While her foster mother had turned out to be completely bat-shit crazy, she'd always enjoyed the area and thought it was a great place for a kid to grow up.

Of course, that had been during the summer. This was her first Minnesota winter. It had been three months - and if the locals could be believed, it would be another three months before the subzero cold and copious amounts of snow would finally give way to Spring. She was not loving it.

Emma also knew when she applied that the job was hers for the taking. She'd served as the deputy for the Tallahassee Police Department for the last five years and her boss, a man named Graham, was close friends with the mayor of Richfield. All he had to do was call in a favor. And so he did. A week later, she and Henry drove across the country, her little bug packed from floor to ceiling with only what they couldn't bear to leave behind.

But the most appealing thing about moving to Minnesota was that it was as far from Tallahassee as she could get. Or at least within her limited financial means.

Emma made her way into the small coffee shop called Ashley's. She'd found it online. It claimed to have a playroom for kids in addition to serving locally roasted coffee and the kind of crunchy organic food she never could afford and didn't much care for.

She'd chosen to go there in a moment of desperation. It was 11 AM on her day off and little Henry had already had six meltdowns, thrown an entire tray full of food on the floor, pulled all his clothing out of the dresser, and utterly refused to nap. She determined that he must be going as stir crazy as she was and so they had ventured forth, braving the arctic tundra of South Minneapolis in search of distraction.

She perused the bakery case briefly before deciding on a fairly innocuous looking oversized muffin and a small cup of coffee.

"Drip or pour over?" The barista asked with a remarkable tone of disinterest. Emma blinked in reply.

"Just... coffee. Please." She slid some cash onto the counter. The underwhelmed barista rolled her eyes and scooped it up, making change and disappearing behind the counter.

Emma had been surprised by how there seemed to be a culture of rude coffee shop employees. It was the polar opposite of everywhere she'd ever lived. Otherwise, every person she'd encountered in Minnesota had been uncommonly friendly. At first, she'd found it rather disturbing. Now she knew it was just how they did things here.

Surprisingly enough for a person surrounded by incredibly friendly people, Emma had made zero actual friends. There was Mary Margaret, the nanny who took care of Henry while Emma was at work. She seemed nice enough. But then everyone was nice here. Or at least they thought they were.

In the last three months, Emma had learned that "Minnesota nice" wasn't actually very nice at all. It meant saying "How are you?" when you didn't actually want to hear any answer but "Fine, thanks, and you?" It meant excessive politeness. It meant a lot passive aggression. It meant saying "That's interesting!" and meaning "That makes me uncomfortable and I don't want to talk to you anymore." It meant a seemingly endless amount of chit-chat and small talk that never progressed beyond that. Emma had once found herself in conversation for a full hour with another mom at a local playgroup and learned absolutely nothing about the woman or her child in the entire course of their dialogue.

It meant that Emma, a single mom in a brand new town full of people who seemed to know each other all their lives, felt terribly lonely.

She plunked herself down on a bench that was pushed up against the wall. The playroom was impressive - larger than she'd expected. There were only a handful of other people there. She couldn't imagine why. A place that serves both coffee and food and a way for your kid to cure his own cabin fever when it's 30 below? It seemed like a gold mine to her. She put her giant diaper bag on the table and helped little Henry out of his boots and winter gear.

"Down! Down! Down!" He pleaded, flailing his legs. Emma obliged and he was off like a rocket for the train table just a few feet away. She worked off her own winter wear and crossed the room to hang it up on the series of hooks she saw on the wall, adding Henry's boots to the pile, before crossing back to her spot and sitting down to take a sip of her coffee.

"I love your boots," said a red headed woman sitting on a couch to her left. Emma glanced down at the tall brown leather riding boots she'd pulled on over her skinny jeans. She'd been in such a hurry to get them both out of the house that she hadn't really noticed what she'd put on herself. She looked back up at the woman and smiled.

"Thanks," She said, a bit sheepishly, "I think I got them at REI? I just moved here and everybody said to invest in a good pair of winter boots."

"They're so cute," The nameless woman said, "I think they're supposed to go over there in the pile though."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Emma gasped, not even realising she'd tracked clumps of snow all over the carpet - a big faux pas in a place where everyone else is only wearing socks. Emma quickly shed her boots and tossed them onto the pile by the entrance to the playroom.

She then made her way back to the table, careful avoid stepping on plastic dinosaurs and small children. She sat down and smiled apologetically at the woman on the couch. But it seemed the red head who'd been eager to strike up a conversation before was now staring at her phone intently. Feeling a little sheepish, she craned her neck to see what it was, hoping to maybe draw her into conversation about it - and saw the familiar blue glow of social media.

Emma sighed and looked out the window. She thought about embracing her own misery. Maybe picking up a box of wine on her way home and a stupid movie and wallowing in her pathetic, friendless state.

Nope. She thought, taking a deep, cleansing breath, Not today. Today, I enjoy my coffee and watch my son explore this new place he seems to like so much. And maybe he'll even consent to play with me once he's touched every single thing in the room.

She smiled as she watched him bang happily away at a toy piano.

She closed her eyes and brought the warm mug to her lips, inhaling deeply, letting it warm her hands. She took a sip and smiled, allowing herself to enjoy the ritual.

It ended abruptly with the sound of Henry wailing.

Her eyes snapped open to find him. She jumped out of her seat, depositing her mug on the edge of the table and hurried over to the piano. Henry was crying on the floor beside it.

He probably fell off the bench, She thought, sighing as she scooped him up in her arms.

"Aw, come here, buddy. It's alright." She carried him back across the room and cradled him, inspecting him for signs of injury but finding none. She set him down on the floor and knelt down to his level. "Tell me where it hurts."

"My feewings," He answered, looking up at her with big brown eyes full of tears. Emma felt her heart melt.

"I'm sorry your feelings are hurt, sweetie. Do you want to tell Mama what happened?"

"I'm so sorry. Is he alright?" said a soft lilting voice. Emma looked up and caught herself dumbstruck for a moment by the handsome man standing before her. There was an adorable little boy with him looking thoroughly abashed. "I think my boy pushed yours off the piano bench."

Those eyes! They were all Emma could think of. Bright blue orbs that seemed to plead with her for… something.

Her mouth moved to dismiss his concern, but no words came out. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. His strong jaw and high cheekbones, the handsome ruggedness of his well-kempt beard that drew attention to his remarkably attractive mouth.

You're staring, Emma! She scolded herself, knowing it had taken her entirely too long to respond to the gorgeous man standing in front of her.

"Liam, apologise to the lad," The man said, his voice firm and low.

"Sorry," the little boy said, kicking the carpet in front of him with his toes. He was all dark curls and long eyelashes and if he were any more adorable, Emma thought she'd surely die.

"It's alright," She replied, finally, standing up. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. He met her gaze and held it, stunned by the way that smile lit up her whole face - even her eyes seemed to smile at him of their own accord.

Now they were both staring.

"I'm bowed. Wanna pway dinosaurs?" Little Henry asked the dark haired boy in front of him.

"YEAH!" He replied with great enthusiasm. And the two took off, bumping into the table and sending Emma's coffee to the floor, effectively soaking her socks.

"Owww," She said, her voice calm as she blinked away the pain.

"God, I'm so sorry," He replied, sounding utterly mortified as he called for his son to return.

"No, no, really. I'm alright. They were both just excited and it's my fault for leaving it on the edge of the table anyway." She flushed a little as she pulled off her soggy socks.

"Are you sure you're alright, love?" He asked, dropping to his knees and helping her clean up the mess with some spare napkins from the table beside them.

"I'm fine. Really," She answered, helping him try to soak up the mess with the post-consumer recycled napkins that seemed to prefer falling apart over actually absorbing anything.

My God, even his hands are sexy! She thought, staring at them as they worked beside hers. Large, rough, calloused, even a few scars. These were the hands of a man who knew a hard day's work. Hands that would have no trouble hanging a shelf or putting together Henry's new IKEA toddler bed. Emma could think of several uses for those hands around her little apartment. Some of them made her blush.

He looked up and saw her flushed cheeks and couldn't help the thousand watt smile that spread across his face.

"No need to be embarrassed, love," He said, still on his hands and knees in front of her.

The hands. The face. The accent. That smile! It was all too much. And he was just too close. If she didn't create some distance between the two of them, she was going to do something crazy. So she sat back on her knees and ran her hand through her hair.

"Who needs socks anyway?" She said, shrugging. "They just get wet as soon as you step out in the snow."

"Ahh, you'll be needing a better pair of boots, then." He said, moving to sit on the floor, resting his elbow on his knee. "That's all anybody told me the first year I moved here. Took me till my second winter to finally come around."

Her eyes lit up.

"So you're not from here either?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

Stupid. Listen to that brogue. He sounds like he just got off the plane. Of course he's not from here.

"No," He said, smiling as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Although he was smiling, he wasn't answering her question. And then she remembered that she was flirting with a complete stranger who had clearly only meant to apologize for his son's behavior. She had to learn how to read these midwestern people better.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to pry," She said, brushing off her knees as she stood up.

"Not at all!" He interjected, quickly following suit. "Won't you please let me buy you another?" He said, setting the toppled mug upright on the table, and tilting his head to gaze up at her from beneath those same long eyelashes with a look in his eye that seemed both hopeful and mischievous.

"I…" She began, about to decline.

About to tell him it wasn't necessary and she was fine. About to lie and tell him she was done with it anyway. About to push away this impossibly good looking stranger, the first person who had shown any real interest in her in months.

She shut her mouth instead, just captivated by the way his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he watched her slowly warming to him.

"Thank you. That would be lovely," She replied, unable to conceal the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

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A/N: Thoughts so far?