by Leah Sanders
The Trouble with Frogs
by Leah Sanders
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE TROUBLE WITH FROGS
©2015 LEAH SANDERS
Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design
Edited by Cathy Valenti
CHAPTER ONE
"QUAD GRANDE BREVE WITH CARAMEL SAUCE, two pumps of white mocha and whipped cream, extra hot and extra stirred." Jory Wendell rattled off her order for the third time to the barista. New guy. That's all she needed this morning.
She hadn't slept well, and little wonder why. Stupid online dating. Why were there no normal human males in this city?
That wasn't entirely true, she knew, but all the normal ones were apparently taken.
Her friend… scratch that. Her former friend, Olivia, had signed her up for eTruLuv.com three months ago. She added the app to her phone and wouldn't tell her the password. It resulted in about twenty or thirty notifications a day for three months. Jory had sworn up and down she would never use an online dating service. But after three months of connection requests overflowing her inbox, she lost her resolve.
Last night was the result.
She had been right to swear.
Jory plopped down in the corner over-stuffed chair to wait for her drink. Her head ached still, so she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with gentle circles. There was no way she was going to make it through the day like this.
"You look like you might need me to make this Irish," the barista said as he handed her the mug.
"Don't tempt me." Jory glanced at the steaming concoction — a bright red mug filled to the rim with liquid heaven, complete with a little heart swirl floating on the top. She cocked an eyebrow.
"It's a new design for Valentine's," he answered before she could ask.
Jory raised the cup to her lips and sipped cautiously until that welcome burn coursed over her tongue.
"Is it hot enough?" The guy was still standing there watching her.
"Perfect."
He stood there another long moment like he was expecting something else.
"Um… thank you?" Jory offered, hoping that would send him back to his business on the other side of the counter.
"Do you mind if I join you?" he finally asked. "I'm on break now, and I'm curious how a drink like yours will affect the human body."
"Well, I…" She really wasn't sure how to react to that. She had been ordering this exact thing for the past five years in this place and had never once had anyone so much as look at her sideways for it. Plus, she didn't really want company right then. But… she didn't want to be rude. What if the guy waited on her again sometime? He might spit in her drink. It was a realistic possibility. "Sure. Why not?"
A broad smile lit up his face revealing his almost perfect teeth. "I'll grab some coffee." He turned back to the counter and filled a mug with black coffee from the self-serve station.
Jory sighed in resignation and leaned her head back against the chair. She wondered if she would be able to convince Olivia to deactivate her eTruLuv account now that she had actually given it a chance.
The sound of air squeezing out of the puffy chair beside her brought her attention back to the barista.
"So… do you always order caffeine in such quantities?" he asked with no preamble.
"Every day. You doing research or something?"
"No. Not really. Just wanted to know if I should have 911 at the ready when your heart explodes." His friendly smile set her at ease.
Jory chuckled and sat up straighter in her seat. "I'm fine. This is my usual drink. Keeps me going all day."
"So you're not just drinking to forget?"
"Oh, I want to forget. It's just that I also want to survive the day."
"I see. Wanna talk about it?"
"How much time do you have?" Jory snuggled back down in the cushions. She didn't have to be to work for another two hours, but sharing with a complete stranger was awkward.
"Hit me," coffee boy said and took a long sip from his mug.
It probably wasn't any different than all the stereotypical drunks confiding in their bartender while weeping into their beer. And she sure needed to tell someone. May as well be her barista. Even if he was new.
"Okay… so, I went on this date last night," Jory started then paused to re-think her beginning. "Actually, let me go back a little further. My ex-friend signed me up on eTruLuv, you know, that online dating service? Yes. She might be the devil. Anyway, after three months, all the notifications finally wore me down and I accepted a connection request from a guy who looked pretty harmless. I figured if I went on one date, Olivia would tell me the password to my account and I could deactivate it." She raised her mug to her lips and swallowed several gulps of the sweet brew.
"I take it the date didn't go well."
"That is an understatement," Jory said and started at the beginning.
The front door of the shop chimed right at 6:30. I chalked him up a point for being punctual. I've never been one of those girls who kept guys waiting while I finished last minute preparations, and I didn't like having to wait around either.
"Jory?" he asked when I stepped out from behind the counter.
"That's me." I smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand.
"I'm Trevor. You ready?" He was smiling too. Blind dates were always so awkward anyway, it was nice to not read any disappointment in his eyes. As for him, he was decent-looking too, matched the picture on his profile page. That was a plus. Punctual and honest. Not bad for a first try with this thing.
"Yes. All ready." I had asked him to pick me up at work. Figured it was safer than letting him know where I live.
"Wonderful. Shall we?" Trevor gestured toward the door and I stepped around him.
"Good night, Shelly." That's the woman I work for.
"See you tomorrow, sweetie," she offered back and punctuated it with a little wave.
Trevor and I stepped out into the street and he led me to his car. A nice silver Volvo with four doors and a sunroof. Not that it would be of any use at 6:30 with the sun going down, but it was a nice car anyway.
Point number two, Trevor opened the passenger side door for me. Most guys won't do that nowadays, but it never goes unnoticed when they actually do.
"I thought for dinner we'd go to O'Connor's. That work for you?" Trevor asked.
"That sounds good. I haven't been there in a long time."
It's been probably a good six months since the last time I was on a date of any kind, let alone a blind date, so I was understandably nervous. Pushing past the butterflies, I tried to make pleasant small talk on the way to the restaurant. Trevor responded in kind.
"How was work?" I asked him.
"It was fine. Same as usual, I guess."
"Was traffic bad coming into town?"
"No more than usual this time of day," he answered.
"Do you eat at O'Connor's often?"
"About once a month, I guess."
It went on like that for about ten minutes. The bookstore where I work is located downtown, and O'Connor's is closer to the shopping district, near the mall. Trevor asked me a few questions too about my interests and what the bookstore was like. I answered them, but I could tell by the time we got to the restaurant we ha
d nothing in common and there was no hope for any chemistry between us.
Not that I usually make judgments that fast. I will generally give a guy a full date or two before I come to that conclusion. But this guy…
Yeah, it was pretty obvious he was feeling it too. But we'd come this far, we'd have to finish out the date, just go through the motions and ride this out to the end.
So O'Connor's. That's where the date really went south.
We sat down and the waiter brought us some water and a basket of rolls. He took our drink order and headed back to the kitchen. Little fact about O'Connor's. They give you three rolls. Three. Not two, which would make sense for a couple having dinner. Not four, which could be easily divided up by a couple having dinner. No. They bring three. I have never understood that.
Trevor took a roll and started eating it, tearing off bites with his hands and popping it in his mouth.
I picked up a roll, cut it open, smeared a little honey butter inside, and took a bite.
We continued our dry conversation while looking through the menu.
After a few minutes the waiter came back with our drinks. A soda for Trevor, iced tea for me. Trevor ordered chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables; I ordered grilled chicken with lemon rice. The waiter left.
I knew it would take awhile, because O'Connor's is notoriously slow. I had skipped lunch that day because Shelly needed me to run to the bank, so I was very hungry. After about ten minutes, Trevor still hadn't reached for that last roll, so I figured it was safe to go ahead.
Maybe I should have asked first, but it seemed that ten minutes was more than enough opportunity, and he hadn't even been casting glances at it. Trust me, I was watching.
While Trevor explained the intricacies of his love for the Denver Broncos and his reasons for hating the Seattle Seahawks, I tentatively reached for the last roll, sliced it open, and smeared a glob of honey butter on it.
Right. In the middle. Of a sentence… he stops, glares at me with death in his eyes, and announces, "You failed."
"Um… what was that?" I was certain I had heard him wrong. He had to still be talking about football, right?
"You failed."
I was flabbergasted. And I hardly ever have cause to use that word.
"Failed what?"
"The three roll test. You failed. A considerate person is more concerned about the needs and desires of others. If you had offered me that last roll, I would have known you were a good person. And you failed."
I had absolutely no words. I mean, I ate a roll that had been sitting there unclaimed for ten minutes, and that made me unfit for society? Deep in my gut, I could feel the anger bubbling slowly to the surface.
When the waiter returned with our entrees, Trevor held up his hand to keep him from setting his dish down. "We're gonna need these to go." He flicked his wrist to wave the guy back to the kitchen, then added abruptly, "And we'll need separate checks."
Separate checks!
"It was the worst date I've ever had." Jory took the last sip of her coffee and shook her head in disgust.
"Wow." It was all the barista could muster. No doubt he was as disturbed by the story as Jory was.
As for Jory, the retelling of her evening's experience did little to ease her frustration. In fact, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect, and she was even more riled than when she had come into the coffee shop.
"Well," he finally added as he stood, "I hope you won't let this sour you on all men. That guy is obviously in a class by himself." He glanced back at the counter. The rush had died down a bit and the café was clearing out some. "Can I get you a scone?" he asked. "On me… to cheer you up after your horrible night."
Jory studied him for a moment. The dark blue polo and visor the baristas wore became him. It brought out the blue of his eyes. She smiled dreamily, then nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you."
He tapped on the counter, earning an eye roll from the barista still on duty, but when he turned around, he held the promised pastry in a piece of wax paper. "Blueberry okay?"
"My favorite," Jory answered and accepted it from him.
"I have to get back to work." He tossed his head toward the counter reluctantly. "I hope you have a better day."
"Thanks." Jory watched the barista return to his post. He was probably right. Not all guys were as bad as Trevor. There was no reason to give up after only one bad date. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. A few quick taps and she had her e-mail open. There was another rash of connection requests there. She'd check them when she got to work and pick another one. Maybe she'd get lucky.
CHAPTER TWO
JORY WAS BESIDE HERSELF. She was sure the saying was lightning never strikes twice. But it had happened again. A-GAIN.
She shoved open the door to the coffee shop and stomped in to find a line ten people long. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Standing at the back of the line with her arms crossed, Jory tapped her foot and periodically craned her neck to see around the sea of customers. Granted, her present mood and not having had her caffeine fix yet that morning went together like oil and water when it came to her limit of patience. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she silently counted backwards from ten.
There was plenty of time before she had to be at work. The morning rush at her favorite coffee shop was not going to get the better of her today. After several minutes of repeating that sentiment to herself, Jory finally stepped up to the counter and was greeted by sparkling blue eyes and an almost perfect smile.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," the new barista said.
"It's almost like you have something I need," Jory joked back. Jokes were good. Especially on days like this when the last thing she felt like doing was laughing.
He lifted his notepad and held his pencil in writing position. "Okay, I'm ready for you."
The tag pinned to his shirt said Andy. Cute. Jory smiled and spoke slowly for his benefit. "Quad grande breve with caramel sauce. Two pumps of white mocha and whipped cream. Extra hot. Extra stirred."
"That's the one." He wrote down the last of it. "I'll bring this out to you in a minute."
Her usual corner chair was occupied, so Jory moved to the side to let the next person order and scanned the room for a place to plant herself. Just as a table by the window opened up, Andy stepped out with a mug in his hand. He gestured at the vacant table with the empty hand and grinned. Jory nodded and claimed a wooden chair.
"Extra stirred and extra hot," Andy said. He seemed to be studying her face and waiting for a response.
"Thanks," she said and took her coffee from him. Another slightly asymmetrical foam heart floated on the top. Jory couldn't help but shake her head. Two bombed dates in a row. That foam heart was looking less and less enticing.
Andy was still standing there with a crooked grin scrutinizing her. Did he do this to all his customers?
"Do you need something?" she finally asked.
"Just wondering if you're feeling better today."
"Would you like to sit down?"
"As a matter of fact," he waved at the other barista and pointed to himself then gestured at the table, "I am due for a break." He grabbed the other chair and flipped it around to straddle it casually, then drummed on the table a few beats. "So… are you feeling better?"
"Well, let's just say that your advice about not giving up after one bad date came back with razor sharp teeth last night."
"Ew. That doesn't sound good." Andy wrinkled up his nose like he was reacting to a bad odor. "Two dates in a row? What is with the men in this city?"
"I don't know. I keep asking myself that." Jory drew a long draught of the steaming liquid and settled back against the hard chair. She missed her overstuffed easy chair in the corner and cast a longing look past Andy to her favorite spot.
His eyes traced her gaze. "They've been here about twenty minutes. I figure they'll be leaving pretty soon if you're wanting to move."
"How long have you been working here, Andy? I've never seen you until the other day."
"I normally work in another location across town, but they needed a hand over here for a few weeks. The manager is out on maternity leave."
"Ah. That explains your run of the place."
Andy shrugged and drummed on the table again. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You said you work in a bookstore, right? What's that like?"
"I love it. Lots of time to read."
He rubbed his chin and seemed to be considering her answer. "How long you worked there?"
"A couple of years." Jory was grateful for the small talk. Kept her mind off her second failed dating experiment. She shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair and tossed another look toward the corner.
"So…" Andy cocked one eyebrow. "You gonna tell me about it?"
Jory's gaze shot back to his face. "The bookstore?" Sure, she hadn't been overly talkative about it, but come on! He'd invited himself into her coffee time. It'd be nice if he would cut her some slack.
Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze to his hands and smirked in good humor. "Nah. The date. I know you're dying to get that story out."
"I don't know about that. He was worse than the first guy."
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?
The people in the corner stood and began collecting their stuff.
"I'm gonna grab some coffee. You snag our seats," Andy whispered and made a dash for the self-serve station.
Jory gathered her things and made her move the moment her favorite chair was vacated. Within seconds Andy had joined her, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.
"All right. Spill."
Dinner and dancing. That was the plan. Since I was having him pick me up from work, I just planned ahead and brought something suitable to change into after my shift was finished. I'm way more comfortable in jeans, but you know, first impressions and all that. I chose a dark blue spaghetti strap cocktail dress. I hadn't had cause to wear it since I bought it a year ago, so I figured may as well.
