His much less godlike friend shook his head good-naturedly, watching Adonis Guy quite obviously flirting with me. “I’ll grab one of those spinach and feta muffins.”
Bailey rang up their order. “I’ll get this, Marcus. I owe you one,” Non-Adonis Guy said.
I squatted down to collect the remaining broken dishes in my hands. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my heart rate to return to normal, and you could have roasted s’mores on my cheeks, they were so hot.
Marcus. His name was Marcus.
“Thank you. We’ll bring those over for you,” I heard Bailey say from my position on the floor.
I peeked over the top of the counter. Marcus and his friend had walked over to the window and were now sitting down at Marissa’s, Cassie’s, and my usual table. Of all the tables in the café, he chose my favorite. Was it a sign?
No, it’s not. I’d given up on love. I needed to remember that, difficult as it may have been in the presence of such manly perfection.
While Bailey expertly worked the coffee machine, I put the fragments of the dishes onto some newspaper, wrapped them up, and placed them in the trash. Once I’d swept up the shards, I washed my hands and paused, deep in thought. I may have given up on love, but I was still a woman. And women liked to look good, right?
I pulled my lipstick out of my bag and slipped the lid off. I held it up to my lips, peering in my small compact mirror, and stopped dead. What am I doing? One hot guy shows an interest in me and I’m throwing that all away? Talk about being flakier than one of Bailey’s cheese filo puffs.
I snapped my compact shut and wound my lipstick down, unapplied, returning it to my makeup bag. I couldn’t let the first cute guy I saw dissuade me from my new path. I’d made up my mind; I was a man-free zone.
My jaw clenched, I returned to the counter. “I’m really sorry about that, Bailey. I don’t know how it happened. You can dock my pay.”
The steamer on the coffee machine made a loud screech as she fluffed the milk for the coffee in a jug. “Don’t worry about it, Paige. Accidents happen. Just don’t let it happen too often, okay?”
“Of course.” I pulled out a couple of plates and put a slice of the cake and a muffin on each. I glanced over at Marcus. He and his friend appeared to be deep in conversation.
Bailey nodded at the plates. “Can you please take those over? I’ll bring the coffees when they’re done.”
Part of me wanted to leap at the opportunity of talking with Marcus again. Another part of me wanted to squirm out of it, come up with some sort of an excuse to avoid the temptation. I told myself I needed to be strong. It was inevitable I was going to meet cute men. I simply needed to learn to deal with them. My inevitable spinsterhood demanded it.
After all, my track record with men had been a miserable failure.
I smoothed my shoulder-length hair behind my ears, took a deep breath, and walked out from behind the counter over to the men’s table. “Here you go, gentlemen,” I said brightly as I placed their respective treats in front of them on the table.
“All recovered from your plate smashing ordeal?” Marcus asked with a cheeky half smile on his face, looking up at me from his seat.
“Oh, yes. It’s all fine, thank you.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Right. I’ll leave you to it.” I turned on my heel without a second glance and walked on wobbly legs back to the counter.
Done. Easy. Well, okay, not easy exactly, but done all the same.
As Bailey took advantage of the lull and got on with some paperwork, she left me to clean up the counter and wipe down tables before my shift ended. There was only Marcus and his friend in the café, and I was thankful they were so deep in conversation they ignored me, so I had free range to make the place spick and span, ready for us to do it all again tomorrow.
I was putting some things under the counter when someone cleared their throat next to me. I bobbed up, ready to serve like the good Cozy Cottage waitress of almost two days I was. My tummy did a flip when I saw who it was.
“Just checking you’re not abusing any more defenseless crockery down there,” Marcus said with a fake brow furrow.
My blush returned faster than you could say hot-guy-flirting-with-me. I let out a laugh. “No, no.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m from the Society for the Protection of Dishes, and we take these matters very seriously, you know.” His face broke into a grin.
Wow, this guy looked like Channing Tatum when he smiled. This was so not a good thing right now.
I let out a light laugh, putting my hand on my heart. “I swear to give the dishes the respect they deserve in future.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Oh, I think you already paid,” I said.
By way of response, he offered me his business card. Dumbly, I took it in my hand, looking down at the words. Marcus Hahn, Attorney-at-Law.
“I would urge you to get in touch if you have any dishes-related concerns.”
“Oh, I . . . thank you . . . Marcus.” I blushed as I said his name.
He flashed me his Channing Tatum grin once more and I swear my legs ceased to function for a moment there. I watched as he sauntered out of the café, turning to shoot me one last smile before he disappeared out onto the street.
Resisting this guy was going to be trickier than I thought.
Chapter 7
THE FOLLOWING DAY WENT much the same as the previous one had at the café: on my feet most of the day, baking, cleaning, washing dishes, serving customers, busy, busy, busy. Only today there had been no broken dishes and no handsome, flirty men distracting me from my new job. Which was a good thing, a very good thing. Or at least, that was what my brain was telling me.
I hadn’t known quite what to do with Marcus’s card, so I’d slipped it into my purse where it now sat, burning a hole in the side. Yes, he was cute and had made it clear he was interested in me, but there was no way I could go there, not since I’d given up on love.
What’s more, I liked him, which was a sure sign as anything he was wrong, wrong, wrong for me.
I’d shrugged my jacket on at the end of my shift and walked out into the empty café to say goodbye to Bailey. My feet were screaming at me, and I was almost cross-eyed with tiredness, having gotten up before any sane person should be out of bed two days running. Bailey was sitting at one of the tables, poring over her laptop.
“Hey, I’m going to head off,” I said.
“What?” She looked up at me, bleary-eyed. “Oh, sorry. I’m trying to work out something on the webpage. It’s doing my head in.”
“Here, let me take a look. I know a bit about html.” I pulled up a chair next to her, dropping my purse on the floor. “What are you trying to do?”
“I heard about this café that gets new customers through coupons. I’m trying to work out how to put that onto the website. It’s not working.”
“What are the coupons for? Free coffee?”
She nodded. “Yup. Just for a limited time, though, to attract new customers. I’m not running a charity here!” She smiled.
“Okay.” I put my hands on her laptop. “Do you mind?”
She leaned back in her seat. “Be my guest. It’s driving me insane.”
I sized up the website. The homepage had the Cozy Cottage’s name in the handwriting style I knew so well, an image of a cup of coffee, and one of the outside of the café. So far so predictable. I clicked on the menu tab and up popped the location of the café and its opening hours. I looked for other tabs, but there were none.
“Is this it? No other pages?”
Bailey nodded. “A friend did it for me last year. What do you think?”
I tried to be positive. “It’s a good . . . start.” I was no expert on web design, but I knew a thing or two about marketing. This website told people the Cozy Cottage was a place where you could get coffee. That was it. Nothing about the food, the character, the charm of the place. It could
have been one of those Joe-average chains, for all you could tell.
“Okay,” she replied uncertainly. “What are you saying?”
I turned to face her. “Look, you just asked me to help you upload a coupon. I can do that for you, no problem.”
“You were going to say something else, weren’t you?” She scrunched up her face. “Is it really bad, is that what you think?”
I could have sugarcoated it, I could have told her that her friend had done an amazing job, stood up, and went home. But I cared about Bailey and I cared about the Cozy Cottage—not just because I used to come here to drink coffee and eat cake most days of my working life, but because it was an incredibly special place.
I chose honesty. “It’s not great. This place is unique. It’s not like any other inner-city café. There’s no glitz and glamour, just good food, great coffee, in a place that feels relaxed and welcoming.” I turned the laptop around so she could see the website. “This says none of that.” I held my breath. What was she going to say?
Bailey bit her lip as she looked at the screen. “It doesn’t, does it?” She let out a sigh. “I can’t go back to her and ask her to do it again. She did it as a favor for me.”
“Well, if you’d like, I could have a look at it for you. Try and inject some of the café’s personality into it? As well as upload the coupon, of course,” I suggested cautiously.
“Would you?” she gushed and I smiled. “Oh, Paige, that would be fantastic.”
“It’s the least I could do after you gave me a job this week. Oh, and those broken dishes.”
She laughed. “I think an improved website might be worth a little more than a few broken plates.”
* * *
That evening, I sat at the kitchen table, working away on my ideas. I was totally inspired. There were so many things Bailey could be doing to attract more customers. I researched marketing plans for cafés and saw the coupon idea Bailey had talked about. I added it to my growing list of marketing ideas as I perused her competitions’ web and social media pages.
“Are you coming to join me?” Dad called from his usual recliner in front of the TV. “MasterChef is nearly on.”
“You watch it, Dad. I’ve got work to do.”
“They work you too hard, you know.”
A spasm of guilt clenched my chest. “Nothing to worry about, Dad. Just that deadline I told you about.”
I didn’t know how to tell Dad I’d left AGD and that I was now working as a temporary waitress at my friend’s café. So, I simply hadn’t. I needed to work out what my next step was before I did that, a fait accompli, as the French would say. That way he wouldn’t worry so much about me—and I wouldn’t feel like I was disappointing him so much.
I planned on researching recruiters and looking for another job in marketing, but to be honest, I was loving the mental break from it all. I knew working as a waitress at the Cozy Cottage was only a short-term solution, but I was enjoying it more than I would ever have thought. I had even learned Bailey’s well-guarded recipes for all those delicious treats, although she’d threatened to have me killed if I shared them with anyone else.
Needing a break, I reached into the back cupboard and fished out my secret tub of chocolate chip muffins. I looked at it and blinked. I was sure there were at least two left. Now it was empty but for some stray crumbs.
I walked into the living room, holding the tub. Dad was so engrossed in his show he didn’t notice me until I stood right in front of him, waving the empty tub around, my eyebrows raised in question. “Dad, either we have a mouse who can open Tupperware or you ate the muffins.”
He gave himself away immediately. “Oh, right.”
“Did you eat these, Dad?”
He pressed his lips together, looking up at me. Eventually, he nodded.
“Dad!” I cried in exasperation. “You’re not meant to have them. Remember what the doctor said? Limit your sugar, not devour your daughter’s secret stash of muffins.”
He hung his head. “Sorry, honey. They’re just so delicious, and you’re such a good baker.”
I knew he was hoping flattery would work.
I crouched down next to him, using the remote to pause the cooking show. “Dad, you’ve got to take this seriously. It’s your health at stake here.”
He looked up into my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head at him. “That does it. I’m not baking here anymore.” I stopped myself from adding “I’ll do it all at the café” in the nick of time. “It’s too tempting for you, and you obviously know my secret hiding places, too.”
“All right. Is the lecture over?” he asked, taking the remote from me.
I gave an exasperated huff. “It’s not a lecture, Dad. I love you. I want you here, not in some hospital bed, or worse.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “I know. I love you, too. It’s just you and me, huh, kid?”
I let out a sigh, thinking about my decision to give up on love. “Yup. Just you and me, Dad. Just you and me.”
* * *
Bailey had other staff scheduled in the café for the next two days, so I told Dad I was working on a special project from home and I set to it, designing the website and social media sites and devising a marketing plan I hoped Bailey would love. I knew I was going outside of the brief, but I figured I had the opportunity to really help my good friend out here. Plus, I was loving the work.
My vision for the café’s online presence required a few photos, so I reached into the depths of my closet and hauled out the old Canon I’d bought secondhand back when I’d fancied myself as a bit of an Annie Leibovitz. I knew exactly what I wanted, and one of them was a photo of a good-looking couple enjoying a cup of coffee at one of the tables.
Some may have thought I had some kind of masochistic streak when I decided to ask Cassie and Will if they could model for me. After all, they fitted the bill perfectly and already loved the Cozy Cottage. They were more than happy to oblige, especially when I told them it was to help Bailey out.
I reached the Cozy Cottage late morning, between the morning coffee and lunch crowds, timed so the place wouldn’t be too full.
“You do know it’s your day off today, don’t you?” Bailey said with a wry grin. She was looking particularly beautiful today with her dark hair piled up on top of her head and a pretty pale pink summer dress under her polka dot apron.
I pulled the lens cap off my camera. “Give me one of those fabulous smiles of yours.”
Bailey did as I requested and I snapped a bunch of photos of her looking like an Italian movie star from the fifties behind the counter, flashing her gorgeous grin.
When I lowered my camera, she asked, “I’m all for being the center of attention, but what’s with the photos?”
“They’re for the website, Facebook, Instagram, that sort of thing. Here.” I pulled out my rough plan for the website landing page and slipped it across the counter to her. Although I’d only worked in the café for a couple of days, it already felt odd being on this side of the counter for a change.
She looked it over. “It seems great, but I’m not sure I want photos of me all over it.”
“Are you crazy? You’re a huge part of the success of this place, Bailey. I think you’re a total asset and we should put you front and center.”
She wrinkled her forehead and cocked her head to the side. “It’s not about me, it’s about the Cozy Cottage.”
“I know, but you’re a massive part of that. In fact, without you, this place would just be any other café.”
She didn’t look convinced.
I scooped my plan back up from the counter. “Trust me, okay? I think you’ll love it.”
Her face broke into her trademark smile once more. “Sure. I’m looking forward to it, only, make me just a small part of it, okay?”
I shook my head. We lived in a culture of endless selfies and self-promotion, and Bailey didn’t want images of her beautiful face to dominate her new websi
te. “Deal.”
“Oh, look it’s Cassie . . . and Will,” she said, her eyes wide. “Cassie and Will . . . here. Together.” She looked back at me as concern clouded her face.
I let out a laugh. “It’s all right, Bailey. I’m meeting them here.”
She blinked at me. “You are?”
“They’re modeling for me. I promised to buy them some coffee and cake in return.” I turned to greet them—and ignored the twist in my belly at the sight of them together.
“Hey, Paige,” Cassie said, giving me a hug. “It’s so weird not to have you at the office anymore. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Not the job, though.” I smiled at Will. Giving him a hug felt a step too far just yet. “Hey, Will.”
“Hey, Millsey. Looking good.”
I glanced down at my oversized white linen shirt tucked into a pair of skinny, yellow sixties-inspired cropped pants and slip-on silver flats. “Err, thanks” was all I could manage.
“Paige tells me you’re modeling for the new website today,” Bailey said.
“Sure are. We’re ready for our close-up, Mr. DeMille,” Cassie said, referencing that famous line from Sunset Boulevard. I knew: we’d watched it together. She grinned at me. I noticed Will gave her hand a little squeeze. I chewed the inside of my lip.
“Is it two lattes?” I asked, pasting on a bright smile.
“Yes, please,” Will said.
“And some cake. It wouldn’t be a visit to the Cozy Cottage without cake,” Cassie added solemnly.
Bailey laughed. “True. Your usual, Cassie?” She nodded. “And what about for you, Will?”
“Same for me, thanks, Bailey.”
While Bailey filled their order, I got the happy couple to pose at different spots around the café. I wanted them to look happy, relaxed, and in love. I got all three in spades and it was almost killing me.
Yup, I had definitely entered masochistic territory here. At this rate, I’d may as well have just gone out and found myself a Christian Grey-type billionaire and been done with it—although, I wasn’t sure all that torture room business was quite up my street.
Two Last First Dates Page 6
