by R. C. Martin
Daphne laughs, knowing right away what Sarah is referring to. “Trevor tells me I’m being ridiculous every time I say it, but I tease him all the time about how he picked this ring as a representation of the size of his dick. Since he’s not whipping it out for anyone but me anymore, he doesn’t get to hear girls say that unless I’m showing off the ring he’s proud to admit he chose all on his own.”
“You and Trevor?”
Daphne nods. “Can you tell? Our little worm looks just like him.”
With my eyes still trained intently on Sarah, I don’t miss it when something like sadness flickers across her face. Then she looks down at Caroline and smiles. “Congratulations, Daphne. Dammit—I’m gone a little longer than a year and it feels like the whole world has changed.”
“Here, you should sit with us,” Daphne offers.
I stand to offer her my seat, more than happy to have this beautiful stranger—who apparently isn’t a stranger—join us. When I reach my full height, she looks up at me and our eyes meet for the first time since she walked into the shop. “Have my chair. I’ll get another.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Don’t mention it,” I insist, pushing my vacant chair closer to her. She sits and I’m quick to grab another seat from a nearby table.
“So, what are you doing here? In town, I mean,” asks Daphne.
“I just moved back,” she murmurs, looking from me to Daphne, to Caroline, to me. “Actually—” She hesitates, looks down at Caroline and then back up at me. Every time our eyes meet, my heartbeat kicks up a notch. “I think I’m here to see you.”
“Me?” I mutter lamely.
“Brandon, right?”
I fold one arm across my chest as I stroke my chin with my free hand, kicking myself for being the only clueless one at the table. Why can’t I remember who she is? How is it possible that I knew her but didn’t notice her?
“Yes,” Daphne answers with a chuckle on my behalf. “Don’t mind him. He’s not as good with names and faces as I am. He’s currently racking his brain, trying to figure out how he knows you.”
“My bad,” I finally manage.
“It’s fine,” she says with a smile.
Damn. I want to own that smile.
“It’s been a while. We’ve only hung out a couple times—back when I was a senior at CSU. I’ll admit, I kind of cheated. I remembered your face but not your name. Lucky for me, it’s on the door. Anyway—I’m actually here because I saw you were hiring,” she tells me, pointing back at the sign I’ve got propped in the window. “I’m interested.”
Me, too, gorgeous...
“You’re hired,” Daphne proclaims, smacking her hand against the table, effectively pulling me from my thoughts. “Wait—aren’t you a teacher or something?”
“Um—” The same distraught look that shadowed her features a moment ago reappears. She looks down at Caroline, finds her smile, and then addresses Daphne. “Yeah. Well, I was. Or—I am. I just—I’m on hiatus. I just moved back into town this weekend and I really need a job. I have a little bit of experience as a barista,” she tells me. “But I’m a quick learner so—”
“Oh, no need to convince him,” says Daphne with a grin. “He’ll hire you. He needs you. Brandon—she’s it. She’s your new partner-in-crime. Hire her.”
For a second, I think about just saying yes. Something about her voice conveys the sincerity behind her need and I want to take that away—I’m caught off guard by my instant desire to do whatever I can to insure that she wants for nothing. Then I remember that the person I’m looking to hire will be responsible for helping me keep up with Little Bird—which isn’t just the coffee shop where I work; it’s the coffee shop I’ve always wanted. The business man in me wants to handle this the right way.
“I’d be more than happy to talk to you about the position.”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
Daphne rolls her eyes as she stands. “Fine,” she mutters. “Do the boss thing and interview her properly. I’m going to go order a drink. Are you alright if Care stays? She seems pretty content right now,” she asks Sarah.
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” she says with a wave. She heads to the counter, leaving the two—and a half—of us alone at the table. I regret that I don’t remember Sarah more, but I can tell that Daphne approves of her, which speaks volumes in my book.
Who knows. Maybe she’s exactly who I’ve been waiting for.
I HAVE EVERY INTENTION of walking out of Little Bird Cafe with a job today.
Yesterday morning, I got up to go to church. It was more of an excuse to get out of the apartment than anything else. I went to Cavalry Hill Community, where I had attended during my undergrad. It was weird being there without Addie, Avery, Beck, and Gray. It felt unfamiliar after an entire summer of no church. I felt out of sorts there, my head and my heart all over the place. It almost felt like I was trying to force myself back into the version of myself that I was a year ago. I’m not so sure I’m interested in making a repeat visit.
Yet, I’m not so sure giving up on God will make anything better.
Maybe a change of Sunday venue is in order.
Millie slept in, which helped answer the question as to whether or not she is Sunday spiritual. Then again—the way she yelled at me Saturday afternoon seemed to be a pretty good indication as well. I’m wondering if she’s got a single drop of grace in her.
We’ve hardly spoken since the Ghirardelli Incident. She did mumble a pathetic thank you for cleaning up the kitchen and replacing the food stuffs that I had used—I made sure to double up on the chocolate chips for good measure. I assured her that had been my plan all along. I let my actions speak against her accusation that I am a sloth and a thief.
My reflection chastised me for it later, while I was brushing my teeth. I know I need to stand up for myself better. I used to be able to…
With the uncomfortable amount of tension in our apartment, I decided to head out with my laptop and do some online job hunting elsewhere. There are a million and one coffee shops in Fort Collins, so I knew I’d be able to settle myself somewhere. When I found parking just a short walk away from Little Bird, it was like the coffee shop was welcoming me back.
I spent a good amount of time here during my senior year at CSU. Addie, Roman and I had this little tradition. Every month we would get together for the open-mic-night that was hosted here. Addie and I knew Roman from work.
Roman.
For a while, I had such a big crush on him. He was handsome and enchanting and, unfortunately, totally into my best friend. Obviously that didn’t work out in my favor.
It’s a common trend when it comes to my love life.
Then again, things didn’t work out so well for him either. Addie picked the other guy. Her forever love. I wonder what Roman’s life is like now. The little girl in my arms is his niece. I can hardly believe I’m holding evidence of more than a year gone by. When I left, Daphne and Trevor were just friends. Totally and completely in love, but just friends.
When I left—Little Bird Cafe was just that. Now, it’s Little Bird Cafe. Home of Brandon’s Bakery.
Brandon.
Hot. Damn. Brandon.
I’m trying not to stare. I really am. I’m not interested in men these days.
Really. Truly.
But Brandon…
I told him I remembered his face, but I don’t remember it being so distracting. Maybe it’s because I was too hung up on Roman at the time to notice. Whatever the case may be, I can't stop thinking about his smile. I don't know how he does it, but when he smiles, he looks charming and endearing, but also smolderingly handsome. When I look at him, it's like fanning through a rolodex of my favorite book boyfriends. Except he's real. I could touch him.
Shit. Don't think about touching him!
My heart shoves aside my rationale and I try and imagine what it would be like to kiss him. Or what it would feel lik
e to have his dark, honey brown scruff scrape across my skin as his lips leave a wet trail down my neck. My Lord, that low trimmed beard he wears is totally sexy in that rugged, I'm-a-man-and-I-won't-apologize-for-it sort of way. And he most certainly is all man. All six-foot-plus of him, with a beautiful body that looks to be void of a single ounce of fat. I wonder what he would look like in nothing but that black apron he's sporting right now...
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Stop, stop, stop!
Too much smut. I've been reading too much smut!
I want the job, not the man. The job!
Remember the last time you wanted the man?
My heart flips me off, unappreciative of the reminder; but my pulse slows, knowing my brain is right. I want the job. I need the job. Anything else is more than I can handle in my current state. With that in mind, I snuggle Caroline a little closer and then look back over at Brandon.
The job. I want the job. Not those warm, dark hazel eyes. The job, dammit. The job.
I clear my throat, hoping my voice won’t be dripping in lust when I go to use it. “So, when did Little Bird became Home of Brandon’s Bakery?” I manage.
“A couple months ago,” he says with a smile that can’t decide if it’s shy or proud.
Kill me now.
“My team is great, but I really need some full-time help. Is that something that you’d consider?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum with a nod. “Full-time is perfect.”
“You’d essentially be training to be my assistant manager. The pay isn’t exceptional. You won’t be making six figures or anything,” he jokes.
“Not a problem,” I say with a little laugh. “Teacher, remember?”
“Right,” he replies with a grin. “So, tell me a little bit about this barista experience.”
As I list off the tasks and responsibilities I fulfilled while working over the summer, he hangs onto my words like they’re the most interesting things he’s heard all day. I can tell that he’s trying to be thorough and I appreciate that about him. When I’m finished, he fills me in on how much of what I already know would be helpful in the open position. He then proceeds to list off the additional duties that he’d need help with.
Before he can finish, we’re interrupted as Daphne rests a hand on my shoulder. “I know you two are busy with formalities,” she begins to say, winking at Brandon, “but I’ve got an aunt and uncle here who were hoping to get a peek at their goddaughter. Oh, and Logan wanted to check in with you, too, Stuey.”
What she’s said only makes a little bit of sense. As I stand, fully understanding that I’m about to see Roman, I can’t understand how Caroline has an aunt. I’m also a bit confused as to how Logan plays into all of this. I remember Logan like I remember getting gum stuck in my hair when I was eight years old. She was friends with Beckham, which is how my group got to know her—but Beckham was the only one of us who actually liked her. The rest of us could barely tolerate her. We called her the Queen Bee. She was the biggest flirt I’d ever met in my life; she was also the biggest snot.
Having admitted that, I feel like no one can blame me for losing my footing when I turn and see Roman and Logan—holding hands—as they make their way towards us.
I gasp, whether from fear of dropping the precious bundle in my arms or from the shock of seeing Roman with Logan—Holy shit! Are they married?!—I’m not sure. As I clutch Caroline tightly against my chest, someone catches me, steading me with a strong, gentle grip.
Brandon.
Shit! Don’t think about him touching you.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, as if he doesn’t wish for anyone else to hear his words—as if they belong to me and me alone. When I nod, I can feel my hair rub against the apron spread across his chest. I know that if I tilt my head to the side and look up, I’ll see his face. His totally distracting face. I can’t stop myself from acting on my indulgent desire. Best damn decision I’ve made all day. “You sure?” he murmurs with a smirk.
Okay—it’s time I hand this baby over before I drop her for different reasons, I think, offering her to Daphne. “I’m so, so, so sorry for being such a klutz.”
Daphne smiles at me as she props Caroline—who seems not to have noticed her recent peril—lovingly against her chest. “She’s okay,” Daphne assures me before kissing the top of her daughter’s head. “Besides, those two really should come with a warning.” She nods toward Roman and Logan. “When I found out that they were into each other, I went a little bat-shit-crazy. I’m guessing, considering the state of their tolerance for each other when you last saw them, learning that they’re newlyweds pretty much blows your mind. Am I right?”
My mouth hangs open, my response orbiting around my mouth as if there’s some sort of barrier preventing the words from crossing beyond my lips. I know that I need to get a grip, that I probably look like an idiot as I stare at them, but I can’t help it. Logan looks as beautiful as ever—her platinum blonde hair twisted back into a loose bun, her professional attire somehow making her more alluring than I remembered. Roman, who is alternately dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a v-neck t-shirt, looks just as debonair as always.
I have this sudden urge to get out of here—away from these people whose lives have begun to take shape. They’ve found love and happiness and careers and I have never felt so out of place in my life. No matter where I turn, it feels as if I’m the only one who doesn’t have it all figured out. It scares the shit out of me.
Not to mention, the girl from yesteryear would have said some smart-ass, witty comment about Roman and Logan. If she were here, we’d all be laughing and no one would know how panicked I feel right now—how close to tears I am—but that Sarah is gone. She’s gone.
“Shit! You just reminded me, I have someplace I have to be right now,” I say, drumming up as much enthusiasm as I can muster. “I’m so sorry—it was good to see you. We’ll have to catch up soon, okay? I’ll be around. And congratulations on the marriage and stuff.”
I force a smile before I turn my back on them, anxious to grab my purse and bolt. Instead, I come face to face with Brandon. Err, rather, face to neck. I gasp, instinctively reaching out my hands to prevent a collision, my fingers making contact with his chest. When I look up into his eyes, I can see it—I can see that he knows I’m lying. I try and convey the loudest silent apology possible.
I want this job—I need this job—but I have to get out of here.
I reach for my bag and head for the door.
“I’ll see you,” I call out over my shoulder.
The second I step foot outside, my eyes are full of angry, bitter tears. I’m only mad at myself. Mad. Disappointed. Embarrassed. I just made a fool of myself. Not to mention how rude I was to Logan and Roman!
“Sarah! Wait!”
I stop, not out of obedience, but out of surprise. I don’t turn to address him, but that doesn’t deter him. He doesn’t stop his approach until he’s standing in front of me.
Brandon.
“What just happened?”
I don’t seek out his eyes until I’ve managed to blink some of the excess moisture out of mine. Then I see his concern, tugging at his brow, and I begin to lose my grip on my emotions again. I try and look away but he brushes a finger underneath my chin, lifting my head once more.
“What just happened?” he repeats.
“I’m—I’m sorry.”
“No,” he says, interrupting me before I can say more. “I don’t want your apologies. If we’re going to be working together, I’m going to need you to do better than I’m sorry. Those words just don’t mean very much to me anymore.”
His statement makes me pause. There’s something about the way he said it—those words just don’t mean very much to me anymore—that makes me wonder who or what stole the sincerity behind an honest apology from him?
Then I register the first half of his declaration—the part where he said if we’re going to be working together. He’s still considering me fo
r the position. Right here, right now, my answer means everything.
“Truth?”
“Truth,” he insists with a curt nod.
“I’m a mess,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m trying to figure it out; I’m trying to put myself back together but—I’m a mess. I can’t promise perfection, but I can assure you that I really am trying.”
He studies me for a moment before he speaks. “Can you start tomorrow?”
“Really?” I exhale, more relieved than I thought I’d be at his offer.
“Tomorrow. Seven o’clock.”
“Yes. Yes! I’ll be here. Thank you.”
A small smile plays at his lips and he drags a finger along the length of my jaw. “Keep your chin up. Don’t ever hide those eyes,” he says before he leaves to head back inside.
It takes every bit of will power I have not to turn and watch him make his way back into LB.
I got the job. Not the man. The job.
SHE SMELLS LIKE SUNSHINE, or what I imagine sunshine would smell like. Fresh. Natural. Bright. Completely and effortlessly sexy. As I make my way back into LB, I remember how she felt in my hands when I caught her from her stumble. The moment she looked up at me, those full lips in reaching distance of mine, I knew that hiring her would be a mistake. I also knew there was no way on earth I was going to tell her no. If I’m being honest, the job was hers as soon as she mentioned it. After our short and pointless interview, I’m sure she’ll do fine—it’s me I’m worried about.
She’s gorgeous and sweet and that smile—God, that smile—it pulls me in. There’s also a sadness in her blue eyes that kills me. I want to know her, understand her, figure out what her mess is and help her fix it…but hiring her makes her off limits.
She said she needed the job. Well, I need the help. I can’t go chasing after her—at least, not in the way that I want. I can’t risk losing a good fit by complicating things.
“What was that about? Is she okay?” asks Daphne as I approach.
Caroline is now in Roman’s arms. Both he and Logan look away from her and focus their attention on me, clearly just as interested in my answer as their sister. I barely even think about uttering the truth as the undeniable urge to protect her encourages me to embellish the lie she told before she practically sprinted out of here.
