Accidental Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance

by Sienna Ciles

  I tried to ignore her and take in the familiar sounds and smells of the little local cafe. It used to be I could take the whole crowd in with one glance. I could respond to a half dozen pretty female smiles all at once. Now I had to take my time. I couldn't just look around like I owned the world.

  Owning the world. It could be heard in the way Rachel dismissed the entire coffee shop with a few vapid jokes to her friend. She thought we were above them. She thought having money meant we were more attractive, better dressed, and worth more than anyone who worked for a living. She dismissed me heading an international corporation as a stipulation of my inheritance.

  I used to agree with her. I used to flaunt my money, my status, and my attractiveness. I had met Rachel tearing down a popular group of artists at an exclusive art gallery. Men and women alike stared at her more than the art. She was a goddess come to life, complete with a vengeful smile.

  I would have moved on, actually looked at and savored the art, but Rachel decided she had to have me. She saw me as the perfect match to her privileged glamour. With her on my arm, my status skyrocketed.

  We could get back there. Back to before everything faded, including Rachel's interest in me.

  The daydream popped when the coffee shop line moved forward. I shook it off and followed the shapeless gray blob in front of me. Rachel was right; there were too many gray suits. Now everything looked gray to me.

  I tried to focus but the same thought kept ringing in my head. I wish I had looked at the art that night.

  Useless thoughts. I forced myself to take stock of the room and get my mind off the unchangeable.

  Rachel leaned against the front windows and kept up her loud, grating patter. People waited patiently near the other window to pick up their drinks. I could feel the steamy heat of each cup as they passed. And somewhere at the front of the line there was the most melodically soft voice.

  "Brenden! Grab me my favorite!" Rachel squawked from the door.

  I felt my way forward a few inches and waited again in the long line of blurry morning faces

  Chapter 2

  Brenden

  I used to like coming to the coffee shop just because of the crowd. I had been exhilarated by the press of all the other early morning business people. I had enjoyed the camaraderie as everyone was tired and yawning. I had looked forward to the surprises like sleepless mothers with infants still strapped to their chests. Or men in dark leather jackets and black sunglasses who had either been on a concert stage or a motorcycle the entire night before.

  Now it was just crowded and confusing.

  I took a deep breath and centered myself. After a long night mostly alone in a very large house, I needed the jostling and closeness of the coffee shop. It helped me handle the crowded minefield of my work day. It often felt like everyone's eyes were on me. Especially lately. And it didn't help that at age 37 they all still considered me an awkward teenager. The board of directors looked at me like I was about to trip on my own shoelaces or lose my head over some pretty girl and ruin their multibillion dollar corporation.

  I had to remind them each and every day that it was my corporation. It was my family legacy and, while I was being forced to let go of other things, I would never give that up.

  I breathed again and began the meditative exercise my hippie college roommate had taught me. "Get grounded,” he had told me. He was the most ungrounded guy I’d ever met, especially when his homework was too boring, but that never stopped the simple exercise from helping me.

  Listening was easy in the coffee shop where the conversations were close. In the tight corner by the window, two men were arguing over a business deal. The one with a slightly Midwestern accent was being too cautious and if they didn't move soon they would lose the contract.

  Scent was almost overwhelming with the bright bouquet of coffee beans. I knew the person directly to my left had ordered one of the tall, multi-colored gimmick drinks because I could smell the caramel and sugar and almost no coffee at all.

  Then I felt a woman brush by me and there was a warm shock as she let herself linger. I could feel the magnetic pull of her flirty smile as she said hello.

  She reluctantly moved off as it was my turn at the counter. I could almost taste my regular Americano but the anticipation fled as a new voice welcomed me.

  "Hi, what can I get you this morning?" The voice was soft and melodic, the one I had heard sweetly greeting each and every customer.

  Rachel shoved her way to my side and the pitch of her voice was impatient: "We'll have our usual. Like now."

  "Your usual?" The young woman asked, a nervous note entering her voice.

  "Yes. As in we come in here almost every single day and if you knew how to keep your best customers happy you'd already have our usual drinks being made," Rachel snapped.

  I put a hand on Rachel's arm and muttered in her ear, "She's new here."

  "How do you know?" Rachel asked me.

  "Tell me your order now,” the barista said. “I’ll remember you.”

  Her words were polite, but I caught the tinge of sarcasm. Rachel was never very good at first impressions.

  "Rachel, why don't you go call Harry?” I said. “I'm sure you want to wear a real statement piece to the event." Harry was a jewelry designer who often lent me outrageously expensive items.

  Even the casual, coded mention of jewelry changed Rachel's whole persona. She turned away from the counter and the unfortunate new employee and gave me a soft caress on the cheek. Luckily she had forgotten completely about coffee or anything else. I could hear the young woman's fingers nervously crumpling an order receipt. She didn't need Rachel ripping into her while there was a still a long, long line to serve.

  Rachel purred. "Oh, Brenden, I'm so glad you finally said something before I had to ask."

  She pushed her way through the tight crowd and started another loud conversation on her phone. I turned back to the new barista and smiled. I hoped she saw that I was trying to apologize.

  "I'll have an Americano and she likes whatever that tall super sweet one with all the syllables is," I said.

  The new barista laughed. "Got it."

  With Rachel's confrontational energy gone, I could feel the young woman's curiosity. She hesitated before she called out our orders, as if she was doing a double take on me. I straightened my jacket and felt the need to make a better impression than Rachel.

  "I'm Brenden." I held out my hand in the right direction.

  She had to reach up to shake my hand, catching and lowering it with a gentle touch. "My name's Faith. Nice to meet you, Brenden."

  I cleared my throat. "So, when did you start, Faith? I don't recognize you."

  "Oh, um, I started a while back but just worked my way up to the day shift. I hope it works out because I could really use the extra hours," she said.

  "Well, I'll give you a good review."

  Faith laughed and the tone made me think she was rolling her eyes. "You haven't even tried the drinks yet."

  "There's more to a good review than just the taste of the coffee," I told her.

  Faith fired up the espresso machine. "I suppose smell also makes a difference in a coffee shop, though the noise can't be the greatest selling factor."

  I chuckled over the loud hissing of the machine. "Your voice is quite nice. Especially this early in the morning. Kind of soft and melodic but still easy to hear. That's not an easy tone to master in a noisy little cafe."

  "My voice?" Faith asked.

  The hesitancy and disbelief in her tone made me grin. "Yes. It's been nice talking with you."

  "Thanks. Um, her drink is going to take a minute. Here’s yours,” Faith said.

  I attuned my ears toward the doors and quickly picked out Rachel's intonations. They were softer now but not quite the wheedling flirtation she usually saved for the jewelry designer. This tone was warmer and reminded me of honey, sort of sweet but cloying.

  "I'll wait until she's done on the phone," I said. />
  Faith cleared her throat. "She's actually done and talking to someone in a flashy suit."

  "Flashy suit?" I asked.

  "Um, yeah. The blue kind with little stripes. What are those called?"

  "Pinstripes," I said. Rachel hated pinstripes.

  "And shiny brass buttons," Faith added.

  "Is she lecturing the poor man on fashion?" For a moment I felt for the unfortunate man that had caught Rachel's attention.

  Rachel’s sugary laugh reached my ears again and I frowned. I couldn't see her in the shifting splotches of the coffee shop crowd. My fingers curled into a fist. The sudden clutch of frustration was confusing: was I jealous or just annoyed that I couldn't see my competition?

  The flirtation must have been working because the man chuckled. A low sound with no rasping. He was around my age and when he spoke I could hear the cultured tones of a well-educated person. Somehow Rachel had zeroed in on another wealthy, Ivy League man.

  I gritted my teeth and realized I wasn't surprised. Rachel had been drifting away from me for a long time now. Slapping my credit card on the counter, I listened while the barista ran it through the machine. A moment later, she handed it back.

  "It'll just be another minute. I had to send someone to the back storeroom to get more sprinkles for her drink," Faith said. "I discounted your order to make up for the inconvenience."

  "You didn't have to do that," I said.

  I dug into my pocket for some cash, not caring what denomination bills I pulled out. I then swung my hand slowly toward the register's low hum and found the tip jar. I pushed it all in.

  "Thanks," Faith said softly. "I don't get a lot of patient customers here in the morning."

  She must have brushed her hair back from her face because a new, floral scent floated to me from her. I inhaled, glad to be distracted from Rachel's blatant flirtations.

  "Is that lilac?" I asked Faith.

  "What? Where?" Faith asked.

  I breathed again and smiled. "I'm thinking it's your perfume."

  Faith snorted. "I don't wear perfume. That's not really something I like to spend my tips on."

  "Then it's your shampoo." I inhaled again. "Definitely lilac. Such a soft, springtime scent. Is that your favorite flower?"

  "A lot of girls like lilac," she said shyly.

  "So I guessed right?"

  Faith gave an incredulous sigh. "Yes. My shampoo is lilac. It's just some cheap brand, though."

  I shook my head and smiled. "Doesn't matter. It smells wonderful."

  A brisk presence rushed up behind Faith. "Here are the extra sprinkles. Oh dear, Mr. Porter, I didn't see you."

  "Don't worry, I understand," I told the familiar barista. "Nice to see you again, Cheryl."

  She snorted. "'Nice to see you.' I thought you were done with that cheap joke."

  "Would you prefer 'you're a sight for sore eyes?'" I asked Cheryl.

  She laughed, a big warm laugh that filled the small cafe. Then her voice took on a serious edge. "Is this for Ms. Rachel? Oh no, Faith. This is all wrong. Let me redo it really quick."

  "I did it wrong? I'm so sorry!" The panicked tone was back in Faith's voice. "I thought I had the whole menu memorized."

  "Don't worry," I told her. "It's a bit of a special order. Kind of a pain in the ass."

  A nervous giggle escaped Faith.

  "Give Mr. Porter an extra-large oatmeal cookie," Cheryl said as she redid Rachel's drink. "It's the least we can do for holding up his order."

  "I'm in no hurry," I told Cheryl. "I'm just glad you hired someone else to help you out around here."

  I heard someone, likely Faith, rummaging in the cookie display. “Here’s your cookie,” she said.

  I reached for it and heard her shift to meet my open hand.

  Our fingers brushed and I took a quick moment to feel for rings. Faith stilled but she didn’t let go of the cookie. She let me explore her hand.

  She handed me the cookie and drew back. The absence of her touch left me frustrated again. I liked feeling her pulse jumping. It had matched the hammering beats of my own heart.

  "There's no such thing," Rachel snapped, suddenly behind me.

  "What?" Both Faith and I asked at the same time.

  "There's no such thing as a girl that doesn't like diamonds."

  Cheryl interrupted the awkward confrontation before Faith had to say anything and I heard the young woman give a grateful sigh.

  "Here's Mr. Porter's order. Make sure you remember it for next time," Cheryl said. "See you soon!"

  Rachel's overpowering scent of French perfume barreled past me. "What took so long? I swear, Brenden, I don't know why you insist on coming here."

  She grabbed her tall drink and spun away. I lost her in the coffee shop crowd until I heard the same man chuckle again. With a frown, I groped along the counter until I found my own coffee.

  Faith was on to the next order and Rachel was gone. I knew I could navigate the tight coffee shop but the chances of me spilling my hot drink all over someone was high. I gritted my teeth to stop from calling Rachel back. The last thing I wanted to do was to cause more of a scene.

  I took a few steps and heard a woman's sharp intake of breath. "Sorry," I said and headed in a different direction.

  "I have you, sir." Jasper materialized at my elbow. The subtle pressure of his hand steered me down a safe path to the front door.

  "You didn't need to come in, Jasper. I could have just called for Rachel to help me," I muttered.

  "You shouldn't have to, sir."

  Jasper nudged me around a new couple as they entered the crowded coffee shop. Then he held open the door for me. I heard Faith's voice chatting with the next customer and it made me pause.

  "The new barista is quite charming," Jasper said. "Brown hair, brown eyes."

  Jasper knew I still liked to imagine what people looked like but he wasn't very good at the interesting details. Was her hair long or short? Or was it tied up tight in one of those bouncy ponytails? I wondered if Faith was tall or short, if she was thin as a rail or comfortably round. My hands itched to feel her shape and the impulse made me smile.

  It had been a long time since anyone new had inspired me to build a full mental picture.

  "Sir?"

  "Sorry, just distracted," I told Jasper. "Where's Rachel?"

  I heard Jasper's teeth grind. "She'll be with you in a minute if I have to fetch her myself."

  I sipped my Americano and waited by the car. "Don't worry, she can see I'm ready to leave. And since I offered her a trip to Harry's today, I highly doubt she'll want to be left behind."

  "Another trip to Harry's," Jasper muttered under his breath.

  I laughed to cover up the awkwardness. "Yes, another trip to Harry's.”

  I held my breath as the coffee shop door swung open. The man's deep chuckle sounded again and it was quickly followed by Rachel's tittering laugh. They said something I couldn't hear and there was another flirty giggle from my girlfriend.

  My driver tore open the car door for me and ground his teeth again as Rachel pushed past me. Jasper begrudgingly helped Rachel into the car.

  "What's the hold up?" Rachel asked sharply as I settled into the seat next to her. "I have places to be."

  Jasper revved the engine harder than normal and took off from the curb. "Sir, if I take short-cuts I can still get you to the office before your first meeting starts."

  "But what about dropping me at Harry's?" Rachel screeched.

  "Don't worry, darling," I told her. "The diamonds will still be there after you drop me off at work."

  Rachel slumped back into her seat and sulked for the rest of the drive. I ignored her and tried to enjoy the last dredges of my delicious coffee.

  She’d get to Harry’s just fine. She liked to get all dressed up and wear glittery jewelry, though she seemed to forget I wouldn’t be able to see her in it.

  Chapter 3

  Faith

  "Wow. You two were firing off spark
s," Cheryl said. She watched Mr. Porter, Brenden, climb into his fancy car.

  "What? No. Why?" I scoffed. I quickly turned to the next customer and tried to stay busy. Luckily the line was long and the coffee shop was always crowded

  Cheryl stayed to lend a hand despite the busy crush of baristas behind the counter. During the morning rush, another set of hands was greatly appreciated but now I couldn't avoid her.

  "He's disgustingly wealthy. Just, you know, by the way," Cheryl said.

  "I know," I muttered. It had been rather obvious. I cranked on the espresso machine.

  As if I hadn't noticed Brenden, Mr. Porter's custom-tailored suit. The flash off his Armani sunglasses had almost blinded me. And when he stepped away, measuring each step, I had noticed the sharp gleam of his polished Italian shoes.

  I stretched my memory as I made the next order. Why did I recognize Brenden's face? Even with the sunglasses, he was startlingly familiar.

  "He's always in the tabloids," Cheryl said. "One of those mega-rich thrill-seekers."

  "But he's—"

  Cheryl interrupted me with a sharp slash of her hand. "Exactly. It happened gradually and he spent over a million dollars making sure he saw every inch of the earth before it faded."

  My heart tripped in my chest. I'd read his story in the headlines. It had been top gossip and there were even rumors of an indie film made from the raw footage of Brenden's quest. I'd dismissed it all as a whim of the rich and bored.

  Until I met him.

  My hand trembled a bit as I handed the next customer a fat-free latte. "The news made it seem so dire."

  Cheryl shrugged and stirred up the mocha. "What's he gonna do? Adapt. Right? Now I just wish he'd move on with his life."

  I sloshed the pitcher of cream and was glad to turn away to grab a rag. My cheeks were on fire. "Move on from what?"

  Cheryl snorted. "You're telling me she didn't grate on your nerves? I don't know how he stands her and she's just getting worse and worse."

  "Not the care-taking type?" I asked.