Chapter 3
My coffee—fair-trade, hand-roasted, and god-awful expensive in bulk—tasted like it was dipped straight from the Columbia River. The sounds of people passing through the building grated against my ears like a whining weed eater. But Monday didn’t care that I had a splitting headache and the worst hangover I’d had in years.
I had still rolled out of bed at 4:30, rolled up the cart’s metal grating at 5:45, and served my first customer of the day at 6:14. That’s the thing I hated about owning my own business: I couldn’t call in sick. Of course it would have only made me feel sicker to bail on work because I was heartsick over some guy who’d been little more than a crush and was now...
Nothing.
Monday came and went and Tuesday should have been easier but wasn’t. No big surprise that David stayed away. Then Wednesday, just before noon, I spotted him holding the heavy brass door open for some older ladies. He’d cut his hair and his shirt looked brand-new—icy blue, starched into submission, and topped with a silver tie. Tiny changes.
When he approached the cart my chest got tight, my heart clattering with ridiculous optimism despite dark clouds of logic swirling around my brain.
As luck would have it, I had three customers ahead of him. The wait to talk to him felt torturously slow, made worse by him not meeting my gaze. Not that our eyes could say everything that needed saying, but I wanted some sort of sign as to how this was going to go down.
Finally. His turn arrived and thank the goddess there was no one behind him.
“Hey.” He met my eyes. Sunday hung between us, heavy and cold, like laundry someone had been stupid enough to hang outside in November.
“What’ll it be?” I struggled to keep my voice even, keep this casual.
He glanced at my specials sign. Berry season had officially arrived and I had a blackberry smoothie on offer, as well as a blackberry mocha. Personally, I wasn’t one for mixing fruit with coffee, but they’d been among my better-selling specials.
He took a very long moment, breathing hard, like a test loomed. And maybe it did—not from me but from himself. I waited. And waited.
“The usual?” I sighed as I grabbed a cup. “Hot?” The teasing June weather had slipped back to cool.
“Yeah. Wait.” He held up a broad hand. “I’ll try the blackberry thing. Hot. And a short.”
I’ve got hot and short right here. I wished I could be that kind of flirty. But I wasn’t, so all I managed was “Really?”
“Sure.” His shoulders straightened, making him seem taller. “I think it’s time for something new.”
“Yeah?” I had to busy myself with making the drink to keep my hands from shaking.
“Yeah. Look, I’m sorry about Sunday—”
“No biggie,” I lied. My heart thumped out a beat worthy of a dance track.
“Yeah. It was. Or at least to me it was.” He raised his eyebrows, his shrewd gaze calling me on the lie. The queasiness in my stomach increased, but behind it was a pleasant tingle. He wasn’t going to let me escape behind bland niceties. He cared how I felt.
“Okay, it was. But it’s also okay that you weren’t into it or into it in public or whatever . . .”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days. I’m sorry if I’ve led you on.”
“You haven’t.” My heart attempted to touch my toes—emotional yoga. I hated this. Hated everything about this. I accidentally gave him too much syrup, but my hands shook too badly to fix it.
“I like you. A lot.” He was a shade of beet red that my complexion could never manage, but on him it looked adorable, making him more vulnerable, more touchable than his always-professional exterior.
“Yeah?” I grinned at him. “I like you too.” I tossed the drink and started over. When he didn’t say anything I said, “But?”
“But I was with someone for twelve years.”
I did some fast math. He’d likely been a teenager when he got together with a nameless guy he’d obviously been deeply involved with.
“And?” I nodded, encouraging him to keep going.
“And now he’s gone. Dead. And I’m here. And I’ve spent two years and a whole lot of cash on grief counseling, trying to make sense of that. And coming here the last few months. . . it helps.”
Dead. He’d said the word in a rusty voice that seemed to scrape against his throat on the way out. My Brian problems suddenly felt ridiculously self-centered and petty. So what if I had a lousy ex I’d never loved quite as much as I’d pretended? I’d been the one to walk away.
“I can’t imagine . . .” I whispered.
“I don’t think anyone can.” His laugh was as brittle as sugar crystals. “And we weren’t out. Not until after . . .”
“Geez. That sucks.” A whole bunch of things started making sense.
“But he was a sheriff’s deputy and I was an accountant and . . . it made sense at the time. But now . . .” he trailed off.
“Now you’re here.”
“Now I’m here. And the grief counselor my sister found for me—”
“Your family knows?”
“Everyone knows. Now.” He rolled his eyes like that distinction wasn’t supposed to matter, but it kind of did to me, and the heaviness of his words suggested it wasn’t exactly a small deal to him either.
“Sorry.”
“It’s . . . it is what it is. My grief counselor says I should start small. Ask you out for coffee—”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, big peals that helped erode my nervous energy.
He smacked his head. “Heck. I rehearsed what I’d say all the way over here. All the good it did me. Obviously going for coffee would be completely stupid—”
“Hey, just because I sell the stuff doesn’t mean I can’t drink it recreationally.” I reached across the counter and touched the sleeve of his crisp dress shirt. Man, I loved him in dress clothes. Blood rushed south and I had all sorts of ideas that had nothing to do with “starting small.” I told my overeager dick to behave.
“Yeah. So maybe we could . . . uh . . .” He inhaled sharply.
“Brunch? Is that small enough? My friend Chris—ex-boss, actually—his place does a vegan brunch buffet on the weekends. Still coffee, but with scrambled tofu.”
“That is so Portland.” He laughed. “I think that might work.”
“It’s a date.” I smiled up at him. He smiled back, revealing his perfect white teeth. I wanted to feel them sinking into my shoulder.... Oh hell. Behaving was going to be a tall order.
“Yeah.” He looked both terrified and excited, not unlike how I was feeling. “It’s a date.”
“It’s on the house,” I said as I handed him his drink. After all, he wasn’t only a customer anymore. I could take on the risk of giving away more than I should. He’d be worth it.