Love Over Lattes

by Diana A. Hicks

  “I don’t paint.” I shook my head. “At all.”

  He hunched down a bit, eyes trained on mine. “What do you do? I mean, I can tell you’re a student. What’s your major?”

  “Oh.” I’d never had anyone look at me like this, as if my answer was important, as if it meant everything to him. “Information systems.” I tried to move back, but the line to order had spilled into the sitting section. This was why I always left fifteen minutes before eight. The place was a madhouse, loud and crowded.

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Computer stuff, huh?”

  “Yep. I already have a real job waiting for me. I mean, I have real job now. Just, you know, not a career.” Why did I tell him that? I didn’t need his approval.

  He nodded, as if he knew exactly what I meant. “Impressive. Not everyone gets a real job right after graduation.”

  “I started interviewing last semester.”

  “Let me guess. That was on your list. Find job. Check.” He drew a check in the air, doing a combination of a small chuckle and mischievous grin.

  Holy shit. This gorgeous man was flirting with me. I smiled at the floor as flutters sprung from my center. I glanced at him, doing a bad job of hiding my laugh. “Hey, don’t mock the list. That’s how I get things done.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hid his hands behind his back. His gaze moved from my eyes down to my cheeks before it settled on my lips, and my stomach did a quick somersault.

  “Excuse me,” a short guy said, squeezing in between a table and me.

  “Watch it.” Derek pointed behind me.

  I shuffled forward and held my breath when my side pressed against Derek’s torso. He used his free arm to create a barrier between the guy trying to get by and me. Technically speaking, I was in Derek’s embrace, my hand resting on his muscular chest, hard and warm. I inhaled and took in his smell. I wanted to run my hand up his biceps and bury my face in the nook of his neck and shoulder. I wanted it so badly my skin felt hot and alive. Oh my God, he was dangerous. I needed to get out of here.

  “It also has a private yard,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Okay.” I did my absolute best not to shut my eyes and melt into him.

  “Okay, what?”

  “I’ll add you to my list. Your property, that is.” I stepped back, ignoring the pull, the strange need to be in his arms. It’d been too long since someone held me this close.

  He nodded and exhaled. Had he been holding his breath?

  How could someone I barely knew make me feel this way? Admittedly, he wasn’t a complete stranger. I’d seen enough of him over the past months to know he was courteous, but not too friendly. He stuck to his morning routine religiously and drank watered-down espresso shots. The man intrigued me. What made him stay and talk to a girl crying her eyes out in a coffeehouse? Any other guy would’ve run out. I knew this from experience.

  I wanted to know more about him, but I couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask. His clean-cut look said he was successful in whatever it was he did, educated. And he carried a six-hundred-dollar wallet in his sweatpants. The one he always placed on the table next to him, with a BMW key on top of it. Did men really buy expensive wallets for themselves? Derek didn’t strike me as the type. Or maybe someone gave it to him as a gift. I glanced at his left hand. No ring. No wife. Not that I cared.

  “So where is this amazing rental located? What’s the monthly rent?” I raised an eyebrow, a move I learned from Mom. The woman could command a room with just her eyebrows.

  His chest expanded slightly, and I could swear his body temperature had gone up a few degrees. He relaxed his stance and dug into his front pocket. His sweatpants slid down to where his V-line dipped below the waistband. I wiped my sweaty hands on my skirt, a raw current stirring up a storm inside me. Could I really accept his help without getting close to him?

  If his offer was viable, I owed it to Max to at least consider it. I should ask Dad to run a background check on him. Check for priors. Dad was a retired cop, but he still had a lot of friends in the force. All of them more than willing to run background checks if he asked.

  Derek pulled out his wallet, reached for my wrist, and placed his business card on the palm of my hand. His touch, warm and soft, traveled all the way down to my toes. I rubbed the thick card stock between my fingers while I peered at his name printed in off-white letters against a dark gray background. When was the last time I accepted a guy’s number?

  Max’s dad’s menacing voice echoed in my head. You were nothing when I found you. And you’re still nothing. My fingertips went cold as I cradled my cheek and welcomed the ghost pain—a reminder of how mistakes could hurt the people I love. My insides quivered, and suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Dammit. What was I doing? Falling for the wrong guy once was enough. Derek seemed nice, but that could change in an instant. No, I couldn’t accept his help, and I couldn’t call or email him. I didn’t need this kind of distraction in my life, the kind that could easily turn into pain.

  After all these years, it was time for Max and me to be a real family. The get job item on my list had been checked. I just needed to find a house. We were almost there. I couldn’t make any more mistakes. Max was my only priority, and that left no room for anyone else. I couldn’t falter now just because a beautiful stranger with a chiseled jaw flashed me a dazzling smile. Love wasn’t for me, and I was okay with that. I’d come to terms with it a long time ago, before Max was born. I couldn’t lose sight of what was important.

  “Are you okay?” Derek tipped his head. A crease formed across his forehead as his hand reached for my face, only to stop halfway when I nodded and stepped out of his reach. “Email me at that address. I’ll forward you the details, and we can set up a meet.” He’d turned on his business voice, deep and determined.

  “Thanks.” I put the card in my bag, just to be polite, and turned to leave. His fingers brushed my elbow, but I didn’t let him stop me this time. Without another glance back, I scurried out the door.

  Good-bye, Derek Cole.

  Chapter Four

  Patch Up This Hole

  Cole

  Well, my gut was right.

  Another day and she hadn’t come back to Cafe Triste. Two weeks had gone by since Valentina ran out of the coffee shop. I’d offered her my cottage in a moment of goddamn weakness. And, yeah, at the time I’d kicked myself for doing it and even wished I hadn’t done it. I’d spent days thinking of ways to get out of it. Excuses I’d make if she called or emailed. Excuses I never got to use because she never contacted me.

  I leaned back in my chair and looked out the bay window. The image of her crossing the street that day was tattooed in my mind. Her long hair, her skirt flowing wildly with every step, exposing toned legs. Like an idiot, I kept my eyes fixed on the street corner, as if my sheer want could make her suddenly appear.

  I checked my phone again. By now, I was sure she wouldn’t email. And here I thought I’d been extra charming that day. Maybe I’d lost my touch. Or maybe she was stubborn as hell. Stubborn and beautiful. Valentina was gone, and I couldn’t stand it. The notion took me by surprise. It shouldn’t matter to me if I saw her again or not, although I’d give anything right now to know what’d kept her away the last two weeks.

  “Would you like a refill on your coffee?” the barista asked, clearing the empty cups off the table. Her knee brushed the outside of my thigh as she leaned forward to wipe the table.

  “No, thanks.” I pushed my chair back and stood.

  She pressed her lips tight, and a look of disappointment washed over her face. That made two of us.

  I shouldered open the coffee shop door and plodded to my car. I wasn’t in a hurry to get home to another day of doing nothing. The days kept getting longer and longer. Without Valentina to break them up, time had stood still. To top it all off, I hadn’t heard from Dom either. Not after he’d called to let me know he was in town and handling things.

  Rush
hour was almost over, with heavy traffic only at main intersections, but I managed to drag out the drive. I beat my previous record and added almost an hour to my commute back up north. In my mind’s eye, I saw Valentina’s big brown teary eyes staring at me. I gripped the wheel tightly. Why did she say no? As I understood it from her call with her mom, she needed a place to live. Bad. Bad enough to make her cry. I’d offered her exactly what she wanted, and she refused it. Why?

  The idea of Valentina in the cottage, so close, made me feel whole again. Without meaning to, I’d open the Pandora’s box that was the small house in my backyard. If I had to be honest, I wasn’t ready to deal with what I’d left there. But I had to face the past sometime. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about the cottage, my divorce, and my next move. Even if Valentina never called, I still had to clear out the place and somehow start moving forward.

  It was fucking time.

  I pulled into the driveway. Gravel crushed around me as the tires rolled half a mile up the hill. I parked the car near the front door and went in to look for my housekeeper.

  “Good morning,” Em said, setting the table in the breakfast room.

  I had no idea how early she got up every morning. When I left before five, she was already dressed in that gray uniform she insisted on wearing, her white hair up in a proper bun. God, I didn’t pay her enough to take care of me. And my fucking mess. My eyes fell on the now-spotless living room. The night before had gotten out of hand. My head pounded when I tried to remember what happened after I left the bar.

  After Bridget moved out, I went out with other women to pacify this fucking loneliness that wouldn’t let up. And for a while it worked. But no amount of sex could ever fill the void or make up for everything I’d lost. All I wanted now was for people to stop asking about what happened, to stop feeling sorry for me. I wanted to show them I’d moved on, even if it wasn’t true. I was still angry, still felt like an asshole for what happened.

  “Good morning.” I glanced around, scratching my temple. “Who’s the second setting for?”

  Em narrowed her eyes before she whispered, “Your houseguest. I figured she’d be hungry.”

  I winced. “Shit. I forgot.”

  “Clearly.” She walked to the kitchen and came back with a boxful of mail. Several legal-size envelopes stood out. “I threw the new mail on top. In case you feel like going through it today.”

  “Tomorrow. I promise.” I bit the inside of my lip.

  “It’s time you got your life back, don’t you think?”

  “I need a shower.” I pulled my T-shirt over my head. “Could I ask you for two huge favors?”

  She gave me a knowing smile. “I’ll take care of Tuesday…. Oh, I’m sorry. Today is Wednesday. I’ll take care of Wednesday. What’s the other favor?”

  I deserved that. I let out a slow breath. “We didn’t do anything.”

  She threw up her hands. “That’s your business. I just work here.”

  I rolled my eyes. Em was more than a housekeeper. She was family. “Could you clear the cottage? I need everything gone before the end of the day.”

  And there it was. The pity in her eyes filled the room. “Of course. Consider it done. What should I do with the stuff?”

  “Donate it, burn it. I don’t care.” I dashed upstairs to get cleaned up.

  I didn’t know why I felt as if I needed a cold shower. The thing about Arizona was that cold water was just an illusion. Nothing was ever cold here, not like back East. I set the water temperature to sixty degrees. It’d never get there, but the system would at least try.

  Placing both hands on the tiled wall, I let the cool shower hit my neck and back. The water sprayed my sore muscles, and as usual, my mind formed a picture of Valentina. This time the feel of her hands on me, her scent, and the smoothness of her skin were there to complete the image. I’d gotten too close that day. And now my body craved more.

  I was glad she had decided not to take me up on my offer. She was a complication I didn’t need. Stop thinking about her.

  I shut off the water and grabbed a towel off the rack on my way back to the bedroom. The french doors were wide open, letting in a bunch of hot air. On the terrace, just outside my bedroom, Em had breakfast set on one of the stone tables. Probably so she could make up some bullshit story for Nikki, or Wednesday, as Em called her. She’d use the standard excuse. Mr. Cole had to rush to the office for an early meeting.

  I winced, rubbing a hand over the stubble on my cheek. This thing with Nikki had to stop. Donning a T-shirt and jeans, I wandered onto the terrace. With the sun on my face, I plopped myself down and ate. I had to. Otherwise, Em would nag me about not eating later.

  I chewed on the goat-cheese-and-tomato omelet, not really tasting anything. Across the backyard, at the edge of my property, Em worked on the cottage. She had several garbage bags filled with clothes and God knows what else. I strolled to the low wall and straddled it.

  Minutes went by. Or maybe it was hours. Who knew how long I sat there, pity party of one? Numbed, I watched as Em directed a couple of security guards to haul away the trash bags. They rolled their eyes every time she dumped more stuff for them to take. Manual labor was beneath them, but they wouldn’t dare say no to her. They’d have to answer to me if they didn’t do what she said.

  Back in the bedroom, my mobile rang. I didn’t move at first. It was too early, and I was too damn sober for socializing. The phone stopped its nagging ring. A few minutes later, it rang again. Who could possibly want to talk to me at this hour? Except for… My stomach clenched as I dashed to the bedroom and reached the phone in time to see the missed call message appear.

  The call had come from an unavailable number. I exhaled and waited for it to ring again. It didn’t. This was ridiculous. I needed to get Valentina out of my mind. I took the terrace stone steps down to the backyard. The high-noon sun shimmered across the pool, and the air was still and hot. A bit of rain would be great right about now. We needed the relief.

  “Come to help?” Em asked when I reached the cottage front door.

  I shook my head, leaned my shoulder on the threshold, and peeked inside.

  “I could use some help,” she said over her shoulder, carrying a stack of papers and canvases to a trash pile out on the lawn.

  Everything looked exactly how I’d left it six months ago. The massive hole in the wall, the broken furniture, and the scattered papers. Maybe it was a good thing Valentina didn’t call. Crossing my arms, I trudged to the middle of the room. I felt disgusted with myself. To think I almost killed a man here. For Bridget.

  Ignoring the hole in the wall in my peripheral vision, I picked up a large paper off the floor. It felt heavy in my hand, expensive. A self-portrait of my soon-to-be ex-wife. Bridget, the painter and business manager extraordinaire. I lifted another sheet. This one was a nude, another self-portrait. That was all she cared to paint or draw, it seemed.

  I followed the trail of papers around the house, stuffing them all in a trash bag I found in the kitchen. I’d made quite a mess that day. I’ve drunk a lot of booze since then to make the details of that morning go away, although the gut-wrenching anger was still there. I wanted everything gone, including the memory of her and what she’d done. I hurled the trash bag at the wall.

  In the bathroom, I eyed the crack on the tile. The broken showerhead and the incessant water drip. Just like that day, his face was inches from mine again. So close his stale-beer breath puffed against my flared nostrils. A loud tear, the front of his shirt ripping under my grip as I slammed him against the wall, echoed in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to erase the sight of the two of them in bed together.

  Sitting on the floor, I blinked until the image was gone. What an idiot I’d been, but it was over now. Done. If Valentina called, this place would have a purpose again. I stood, picked up the trash bag, and kept going until every drawing was off the floors and walls. The work felt like closure. The coffee table and broken chairs were next.
I dumped everything outside, ignoring Em’s big smile. I wasn’t in the mood for her pity. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it when my phone rang again.

  “What?” I answered. The words came out like a roar.

  A sigh echoed on the other end, followed by a throat clearing. The sound definitely belonged to a woman. “Mr. Cole, good morning.”

  My body reacted, blood rushing. Tension mingled with… Jesus.

  “It’s Valentina de Cordoba. You probably don’t remember me, but we met at Cafe Triste a week or so ago.”

  Oh, sweetheart, I remember you. And it’s been more than a week.

  I strolled back into the cottage, away from Em’s prying ears. “Hmm. I’m sorry. I don’t.” I was being a jerk. I knew it. Why did she make me wait this long?

  “Well, you said you had a rental I might be interested in. I have your business card.”

  She sounded desperate but hopeful at the same time. I wanted to hold her. “Oh yes. Yes. You’re the computer major looking for a house. Is that correct?”

  She cleared her throat again. The sunlight hit the kitchen window and illuminated the room. Picturing her big brown eyes and that little dimple on the side of her mouth warmed my insides.

  “Well, if the property is still available, I’d like to take a look at it. Now.”

  Now? Her tone was so subtle I almost didn’t catch it. She was giving me orders.

  A heavy weight lifted off my shoulders. I smiled, looking at my bare feet. “I’m terribly busy right now. But let me check my schedule and see when I can squeeze you in.”

  “Sure. I’m available every afternoon until Friday. I’m going out of town then.”

  Where was she going? My pulse quickened. “Well, in that case, how does tonight sound? How early can you get here?”

  “I work until five. I can leave here as soon as I’m done.”

  She was at work. I looked down at my mobile and saved her number to my contacts. Just in case I needed to reach her later. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake as before. Back in the coffeehouse, I’d assumed she’d call right away and didn’t think to get her number before she walked out on me.