by Ellie Danes
I heard the man I’d been so entranced by earlier grumble again. It was just under his breath. I was almost certain that no one could have possibly heard him except for me. He shifted his balance from one foot to the other. Over and over again. I could tell he was getting impatient, and I couldn't really blame him. We’d been waiting in line for what felt like forever, and it was always a nuisance when it seemed like someone was holding up the line. But come on! It was clear that the poor guy couldn't find his wallet.
I knew just what it was like to be waiting and waiting and waiting and then get up to the counter and feel unprepared. Hell, the poor guy probably had the damn wallet out half a dozen times, just to put it away again the same amount of times from fidgeting.
I knew I was bad about that sort of thing.
“Fucking come on, already,” the guy in front of me hissed.
I couldn’t help but cringe at the harshness. I looked down, knowing that even though he had said it quietly, others were bound to hear him. It was only a matter of time before an asshole in line had something to say.
Well, that is, some asshole that was even more of an asshole than this guy was already being.
I rolled my eyes at the continued wait. With the dreamboat in front of me having a little outburst like that, I couldn’t help but find my mind a little preoccupied. Why was I always attracted to such assholes? It was a gift.
I sighed and shook my mind free before it started in on its spiral into negative memories of my ex-boyfriend. I looked down, trying to busy my mind, and fished for my phone inside of my coat pocket.
But I soon looked back up, somehow unable to tear my gaze away from the scene in front of me. I watched the guy up front continue his search for his wallet. He wasn’t giving up. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I should have admired him for his persistence, or gotten angry about it myself. I mean he definitely was holding up an already long line. Finally, though, he took something out of the inner pocket of his coat.
I sighed a sigh of relief. He’d finally found it.
“About fucking time,” grumbled the man in front of me, clearly relieved as well.
Sadly, though, that relief was not long lived when the next lady made her way up. I should have been relieved that I was so close to the front, and I was, but as soon as I saw her, I realized that the physical location of where I was in line didn't matter.
It was going to be a while.
She was beautiful. Slender, with a cute red peplum pea coat, and gorgeous blond hair that had more body than even mine did. She looked professional . . . and expensive. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all. I probably would have been all goo-goo eyes over the gorgeous leather Coach bag she had slung over her shoulder. But this time was different.
This time, I was annoyed.
Her arm held her cell phone up in the air as she approached the counter, and I knew what was about to come next by the extreme focus she had on the display. She was studying it.
And I knew, from interning back in my college days, exactly what that meant.
“I’d like three mocha lattes. Make one of those a skinny, and one of those nonfat, but with whip. One vanilla bean frap with a caramel swirl. Two hot chocolates…” and that was all I listened to before nothing but pure annoyance washed over me.
And I wasn’t alone.
“Oh, come on!” a bunch of people yelled from behind me, a large chunk of the line groaning, including me.
The woman’s head snapped back to shoot everyone a glare, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned back around and continued to read off her screen. All while several pairs of eyes shot death glares into the back of her head.
I almost felt bad for her. Well, I would have if I hadn’t been so frustrated and annoyed. The wait had been fine in the beginning. It gave me plenty of time to chill out after my morning argument with my dad, and also ample time to look at the hottie in front of me. But now, enough was enough. I really just wanted my damn coffee.
And everyone else felt exactly the same way.
The tension in the room was thick, and so was the air. So thick, in fact, that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everyone was so close. Everything was so hot. The only comforting thing in the whole damned place was the delectable smell of hot roasting coffee beans. And maybe even the asshole eye-candy in front of me.
One moment I was freezing and the next beads of perspiration were forming everywhere I didn’t want them.
He kept glancing at his phone. With every minute or so that passed, he turned on the display, only to turn it off again right after. I could tell that he was checking the time, and I could only guess as to why. He was late, or about to be. I almost felt bad for a second.
Of course, there was probably a reason for him to be so pissed. And it was probably because he was supposed to be at work by now. In all reality, it probably didn’t have anything to do with him actually being an asshole. Who could know, though?
I could only thank my lucky stars that I didn’t have anything important to do today.
My eyes shifted over to my right where a woman looking like the Queen of England came traipsing across. She was swaying her hips as she crossed the middle of the room, toward the checkout counter. “How much longer is it going to be?!” she asked as if she was at a five-star restaurant waiting to be seated.
I scoffed. “You’re at Starbucks, lady, not the Plaza,” I whispered in a volume I knew no one would be able to hear.
Well, at least, I thought it was at a volume that no one would be able to hear.
The gorgeous asshole extraordinaire looked over his shoulder at me and smirked, clearly amused at my comment.
Of course he was.
I rolled my eyes again and looked down to my phone, not even bothering to hear the poor barista or cashier’s defense. The nerve of some people really astounded me sometimes. With a shrug, my eyes fixated on the screen. I sighed with relief at the distraction of Facebook.
For a while, at least.
You know, until the overwhelming pictures of everyone my age getting engaged, getting married, and having children flooded over my newsfeed.
That was enough to make anyone shudder and look up.
When I did glance up, though, I was pretty happy to see that a large gap had formed between the sexy stranger and me, because he had actually reached the counter.
“Thank God,” I whispered, as my eyes instinctively fell on his back. I hadn’t meant to, but as I took a few steps up, I found myself staring, particularly at his bulging shoulders. I could just barely see them beneath the thick fabric of his overcoat, but I could tell that they were there. I shivered and clamped my legs together, just from wondering what he looked like without all the layers.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. It wasn’t every day that I just started staring at random men. But damn, he was hot. I watched, almost mesmerized, from behind as he reached into his overcoat.
His movements were quick and panicked as he pulled his hand out of his overcoat and reached back to dig into pants back pocket.
His movements got even quicker, and a whole lot more panicked as his hands patted over his entire body, across all of his clothing, in a very similar fashion to the man just a few moments ago. The one he’d so rudely hissed at.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I must have forgotten my wallet.”
His voice was tired, low and groggy. And he seemed overly upset about not being able to pay for his coffee. Although, after waiting that entire time — I probably would have been too.
Now everyone was waiting on him. I smirked. Karma's a bitch. It was one of those moments where I wanted to burst out laughing at the irony. But I didn't. Instead, I bit my lip and stifled my laughter, no matter how difficult it was.
"Come on!” a man with a thick Brooklyn accent yelled from behind me.
I cringed again, just as I had when the guy in front of me had given his own little outburst.
The beautiful strange
r's head shot over his shoulder, looking back. Our eyes met for a split second before his moved to look behind me, toward the man that had yelled out at him. I could tell, by the bit of red that crept to his cheek, that he was embarrassed.
I would have been, too. Especially after the production he’d just put on with that poor guy a few minutes ago.
But still, I couldn’t help but pat at my side just to make sure that I had my purse. It was silly. I mean, logically speaking, I’d just taken a cab. I had to have some means to pay for it. But still, there was something about seeing someone fumbling for their wallet that made me double-check that I had mine.
I felt kind of bad for him. Especially considering the fact that he looked like he was not only distracted and in a hurry, but he had fidgeted the entire time we stood in line. It was pretty obvious that he needed the caffeine. I could remember days like that—studying for hours during all-nighters, and then having to take a test. Or staying out all night with my friends, and then needing to be at my internship first thing in the morning. We’d all been there, and compassion was cheap.
“Excuse me?” I said quietly from behind him, as I dug my wallet out of my purse and quickly grabbed my credit card. I made sure my voice was hushed, but still loud enough for him to hear. “Step aside for a second.”
He looked over his shoulder just as I moved past a few people who had crowded next to the line to look over the menu. He looked confused, and a little taken aback, maybe even a little annoyed.
He probably thought I was an asshole. That’s probably what I would have thought, too, though. Gotta love NYC — the land of skepticism.
But that made it even better, the fact that he didn’t know what I was about to do.
Hell, I didn’t even know when I decided to do it anyway. I had never done anything like it before. I took my credit card out as soon as I got around the crowd of people and made a movement to slide it through the card-reader. But, almost immediately, his large ringless hand blocked my motion.
I smirked at the sight. What did his marriage status have to do with me?
“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern.
“You’re clearly not a scam-artist,” I laughed, lamely, as I gestured at his expensive clothing.
He smiled, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “Well, no, I’m not.”
He cleared his throat, as if he was about to protest, but instead of letting him continue, I said, “Let me just pay for this. We’re holding up the line.”
He looked pained, almost. I wasn’t sure why, but by looking at him I could take a guess: he was proud.
“What, can't stand when a woman pays your bill?” I said with a flirtatious smile.
“I don’t like when anyone pays my bill,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Look, it doesn’t hurt anything to be nice to people; even when you haven't had your daily caffeine," I said in a stern voice. My teacher voice, as my sister liked to call it.
He looked at me, a little taken aback, and a little embarrassed. Which honestly, he probably should have been. Grumbles and groans were sounding more and more behind us by the second. And they were growing in volume.
“Look, we’re holding up the line,” I said again. This time, my teeth were gritted, jaw clenched.
I glanced back over my shoulder. The line had reached so far that it wrapped out of the building and down the sidewalk. He looked back too, and instantly sighed, almost in defeat. Yet, his hand was still on the card-reader.
“Please?” I batted my eyes, deciding to change up the sternness with something a little lighter.
“Dude! If you don’t take her money, get out of line! And honey, you can buy me a coffee if you want!” the same man, with that same thick Brooklyn accent yelled out from behind.
I laughed a little and gave him the best puppy-dog face that I possibly could have ever mustered in my entire lifetime, without really knowing why I was acting so flirty.
I mean sure, he was probably the best-looking guy I had ever seen in my life, but still…
I sounded — and looked — like an idiot.
Changing tactics, once again, I said, “I insist.”
My voice was stern, probably even sterner than it had been before, and I grabbed his hand this time, roughly. I would like to think that me being intimidating was why his head fell to look at the floor, clearly defeated. But he did.
He gave a slow, sort of shy nod. One that said that he was embarrassed, but I didn’t care.
He’d get over it when he finally got to have the coffee he clearly needed.
I looked at the cashier, who I half-expected to be scowling like everyone else was doing behind us, but she was smiling at me instead. It was a smile that was so infectious that despite my frustration, I couldn’t help but smile back.
That was, until I realized that my hand was still on top of the sexy stranger’s.
“Oh, sorry,” I said with a cringe, a blush creeping up to my cheeks.
He smirked, and his hand finally fell, giving me complete access to the card reader.
“Your name for the order?” the woman asked the gorgeous stranger as I slid my card. Her voice was kind and perky, and she smiled brightly. And I wondered, silently, how many cups of coffee she had to down every morning to be that happy.
“Ian,” he replied, as he glanced over at me and smiled.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he was using that as an opportunity to introduce himself to me. But rather than wonder for too long, I just reciprocated the smile and nodded pleasantly.
He smirked at me before turning on his heel and heading over to the corner to wait for his drink. I looked back to the beautiful cashier, smiling as I finally got to order my long-awaited mocha latte.
“Name for the order?” she asked sweetly, as she had done for Ian a moment before.
“Kate,” I replied, my voice louder than normal, just in case he was listening.
I glanced over to see if he was paying attention — only he wasn’t looking at me. Or anyone else, for that matter. Instead, he was hunched over, with his back facing me. He spoke passionately into what I could only guess was his cell phone.
I sighed. It figured.
“Ian!” a male voice yelled out from behind the drink station. I couldn’t help but watch as the barista reached out to hand the drink to the hot — and apparently really busy — man. Ian switched his phone to his shoulder to grab his drink and nodded — without looking — at the young, baby-faced barista. But the young man didn’t seem to mind. He only looked down to grab another drink and then back up to the gathering crowd before calling out, “Kate!”
And sadly for me, the beautiful stranger hadn’t noticed. But why would he have? He was still on the phone, and it was clearly an important phone call. I’d seen my dad hunched over his phone enough times to recognize an important phone call. Ian’s was probably far more important than finding out what some silly girl’s first name was.
It had been a fun fantasy—me and the well-dressed hottie meeting in Starbucks and starting a whirlwind romance. I smiled to myself at how ridiculous I had been. Then I shoved through the crowd to grab my drink from the barista.
I nuzzled the steaming hot cup closer to me. Then I turned on my heel back toward the door. Time to go back out — right into the cold crappiness of the city.
Chapter 3
Ian
My morning caffeine buzz was finally kicking in. It was like I had suddenly been rejuvenated and electrified with a crazy spark of energy as I walked through the building’s double glass doors. Thanks to a soft-spoken young woman in Starbucks, I felt like a whole new man.
Which was a good thing. A very good thing.
Because every time I walked through the front doors of MTS Inc., it was game time. I had to put on a serious and stern face, and I had to kick myself into overdrive and get to work. No one else was there to do it for me. I couldn’t be a whiney little bitch, dick around, and drag my feet. I didn’t
have time. I had to focus.
I had to be the boss. I had to look like a boss, act like a boss, breathe like a boss, and even shit like a boss. I had to show up and get serious. And I was. I always was, lately.
Immediately after going through the front doors, I glanced over at the first-floor receptionist and smiled. I couldn't for the life of me remember her name, and if I was being honest, it sort of bothered me that I didn’t know it.
I was pretty sure I’d slept with her at one point or another before taking over as CEO. But I couldn’t remember her name — just that she had a tiny birthmark on the underside of her ass cheek.
I wasn’t sure why all of a sudden I had grown some sort of conscience about not remembering names, but somehow seeing this woman — as her boss — and as someone who hasn’t gotten laid in what seemed like forever, I felt a little bad. Would I forget women like this now? I doubted it. I’d had a much less carnal encounter in Starbucks just a few minutes ago, and I could remember every detail with clarity, from the exact reddish gold shade of her hair to the way she’d smiled uncertainly at me. Her firm yet musical voice as she’d insisted on paying for my coffee.
Look, we’re holding up the line.
People were slowing behind me as I’d paused to remember her voice. I was acting like a fool. I shrugged off the memories and continued on — just as I did every day — until I reached the elevator.
I really should be taking the stairs. It was no wonder I could feel my muscles getting weaker. I didn’t have time to work out, and I didn’t even have the extra few minutes to climb the stairs. I was almost five minutes behind schedule as it was, and that meant it was likely that there was some sort of pissed off board member waiting for me on a Skype call set up in my office.
I could hear and even see it. If I were a betting man, I would have bet that as soon as I walked into my office and turned to my left, there would be a huffed up blowfish looking face on the screen of my TV. He would be pissed that I was “wasting his time” and hell, probably “his money,” too.
But that was bullshit; I wasn’t wasting anyone’s time, and I certainly wasn’t wasting their money. Things were going well. Sales were going great.
