Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2)

by Katie Cross

  “Got it.”

  The silence was less burdened after that. When I pulled into the Antique Barn, she popped out, then held up a palm.

  “Wait. Don’t follow. I’ll be five minutes.”

  My hand paused halfway to the seat belt.

  “Okay.”

  Less than ten minutes later, she dashed back outside, clutching a bulky bag in her hands. Whatever lay inside was wrapped in a cardboard box.

  “Very mysterious,” I said.

  Her wide smile returned. “I know. Now can you stop at Bed and Bath?”

  “Can I come into this one?”

  She shook her head, eyes bright.

  With a dramatic sigh, I put the Zombie Mobile in reverse. “Sure.”

  I wanted to go in with her, see what she was like in a store like that. Did she light up? Probably. The girl was practically a living Christmas tree.

  Four stops later—including a kitchen store, a home repair store, and an office supply store—she climbed back into the Zombie Mobile. Bags littered the floor at her feet. Our easy banter had returned while I unsuccessfully tried to guess her mission with all these tightly controlled packages. I couldn’t even peek inside to see what she’d bought. Somehow, she’d had them all double-bagged or covered up.

  Odd.

  What could she possibly be hiding?

  “Okay.” She yanked the seat belt across her. “I think it’s time to head to the restaurant.”

  The steering wheel was already pointing that way, so I hit the gas. The weight of her impending departure felt like my chest was a balloon someone was slowly letting air out of. She was bottled, red-haired sunshine. With resolve, I forced my mind back to the task at hand. I really did have an errand to run in Jackson City. An errand that mattered dramatically to the rest of my life and also involved the petit fours hidden behind my seat.

  But that errand didn’t feel as important as Lizbeth.

  “Just text me when you’re done,” I said. “I’ll be around. And if you need anything in the meantime.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure he’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  At that, I almost snorted.

  “He better be,” I muttered.

  If she heard, she gave no indication. The Zombie Mobile ambled into the street. Cars whizzed past as we slowly built up speed.

  “Do you know this Tyler guy?” I asked.

  “No. Bethany set this up.”

  “She do this a lot?”

  “Not really. He’s a client of hers who’s considering moving here. Just wanted to meet for dinner and ask about life in the mountains.”

  “At Belle Vie?” I asked. “That’s extremely upscale.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe I’m not dressed right.”

  “You’re perfect,” I immediately replied. “Are you anticipating lots of romance?”

  At that, she laughed. I wanted to laugh with her but couldn’t even make a sound because a new wave of annoyance crested in my throat. Tyler would get to laugh with her tonight. She shook her head, her hair like strands of fire.

  “No. Blind dates are not romantic.”

  “Are you sure?”

  For the first time, her unwavering confidence seemed to falter. She covered it quickly, but I sensed a tension in her that was new.

  “Well, I guess they could be.”

  “Probably would be weird if it was romantic too soon, right?”

  She frowned. “Not necessarily. Lots of books have adorable, romantic meet-cutes with total strangers.”

  “Meet-cutes?”

  “The moment the love interest and the heroine meet.”

  “There’s a term for it?” I chuckled. “That’s wild.”

  “It’s smart. Authors need to know what readers expect. You can’t recover from a bad meet-cute, if you ask me.”

  “Of course not.”

  She sent me a smarmy grin, and seconds later, we pulled up to Belle Vie. I let the truck slow to a stop.

  “Seriously. If he’s weird, I’m only a few minutes away,” I said.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “But if it’s not—”

  Lizbeth slipped the seat belt off and smiled as she reached for the doorknob. “Thanks. I anticipate a completely boring, awkward blind date and then a payout after.”

  “A payout?” I cried. “What the hell does that mean?”

  She stopped, then laughed. “No, not like that! It’s from my sister! If these clients close on the house, she’ll give me a bonus.”

  Still didn’t like this. I didn’t have a great feeling about Tyler. Lizbeth hopped out of the car, a small purse slung over her left shoulder. Just before the door closed, she paused. “Oh, JJ? Don’t open any of them.”

  “What?”

  “The bags. Leave them closed, okay?”

  I hesitated, shot her a grin, and finally agreed. “Fine.”

  For half a second, I saw hesitation in her gaze.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Thanks, JJ. Talk soon.”

  “Be safe, Lizbeth.”

  It was the best I could do. She shut the door and walked away, looking gorgeous in her sleek gray jacket. This Tyler guy would be an idiot if he didn’t gobble her up. Which said nothing good about me.

  Resigned, I turned the Zombie Mobile and headed downtown. I had a date of my own, but it wasn’t with an adorable, perky redhead.

  17

  Lizbeth

  Blind dates stressed me out.

  Normally, I put too much pressure on a new guy. Mentally catalogued whether they fit my idea of a storybook romance. What kind of love interest would they make? Would they dance in the rain? Kiss me senseless in the kitchen? Would they be safe, gentle, and kind?

  Tonight felt twenty times worse, and it was all because of JJ. His perfectly easy smile while I shopped for him without him even knowing it. The unaffected way he took me to the date. It had been a bit weird when I asked them for the ride, but now he seemed as unattached as ever. Like he’d friend-zoned me.

  Again.

  One could argue that all the romance books covered this, and he was secretly seething with jealousy, but I doubted it. He certainly wasn’t coming off that way. At all.

  Disappointing.

  The Zombie Mobile let out a belch of black smoke and then pulled back into traffic. At the door, I stopped, pulling in a deep breath. My phone vibrated, so I stepped to the side.

  From JJ, maybe?

  Ellie: Good luck on the date and be safe. I slipped a handheld taser into your purse before you left for Adventura, just in case.

  A quick inspection confirmed. I rolled my eyes.

  Lizbeth: Thanks. You’re worse than Mav, you know?

  Ellie: I know. Devin and I are driving to Jackson City now to hit up a movie. If you need anything, we’re literally up the road.

  Lizbeth: How ironic is the fact that you’re driving from little old Pineville to Jackson City right now?

  Ellie: It’s entirely on purpose. I wanted to make sure you’re safe because blind dates can be weird. Dev talked me out of doing dinner at the same restaurant, so be grateful.

  A little smile graced my face. Ellie’s obsession with safety wasn’t new—it had always been a bit extreme. A pang tugged at my heart. I already missed her, and it had only been a few days. Devin, even as a football player, wouldn’t be half as scary as my sister if I found myself in a bad date situation.

  Lizbeth: I’ll be safe. JJ is in Jackson City too. He gave me a ride.

  Ellie: On the date?!

  Lizbeth: No, that would be totally weird.

  Ellie: So are we if you need us. Seriously—we can be there in minutes. If he’s some weird serial killer . . .

  Lizbeth: What is it with everyone and the serial killer thing? We’re in a very public restaurant! And I’m good, but thank you. I’m going to go in, enjoy that date, then go back to my cabin in Adventura alone, take off my bra, and enjoy a romance novel. Easy night!

  Feeling better for som
e reason, I shoved my phone in my purse, drew in a deep breath, and banished JJ from my mind. I was fine. This was fine.

  Everything was fine.

  The smell of wine and grapefruit hit me with a gentle wave when I stepped inside Belle Vie. Grapevines curled around the pillars at the entrance. Live violin music sang from somewhere within the restaurant. In the background, a few waiters bustled past in white shirts with black ties and pocketed aprons. A couple in the foyer wore an evening gown and a tux.

  Whoa.

  This place was something else.

  “Lizbeth?”

  A broad-shouldered man strode toward me from near a potted palm in the corner. He smiled warmly, a hand extended, the other behind his back.

  “Tyler?” I asked.

  A bright smile greeted me as our fingers touched. He had a firm shake and kind, soulful green eyes in a face framed by dark hair. His curls glistened in the dim light, and I wanted to run my hands through them. Holy swooner, but I wanted to lean in and smell him. He smelled like Acqua di Gio and perfection.

  I internally squealed.

  “Nice to officially meet you,” he purred.

  “You as well.”

  “I appreciate you coming to help me map this world a little better. You see, I’m far more used to a city, and the mountains . . . they’re different.”

  “I understand.”

  Tyler’s other hand came out from behind his back, proffering a sprawling bouquet of red roses.

  “For you,” he said. “As a token of my gratitude.”

  He thrust them toward me. I accepted out of a sense of numb shock. Sprigs of baby’s breath littered the thick greenery nestled around the roses. Crimson veins ran like rivers through the gentle petals. Sweet baby pineapple, but these were the real deal. These were no grocery store flowers. They must have cost at least a hundred dollars.

  “Wow.” I blinked, inhaling their gentle fragrance. “Uh . . . thank you.”

  “Bethany had nothing but praise for you. She mentioned that you’re a romantic at heart.” He straightened and held out one arm, elbow bent. “I am as well. I also believe in the power of first impressions. You can never recover from a bad one.”

  My heart almost seized. Hadn’t I just said that to JJ?

  “Besides”—Tyler waved a hand—“every woman deserves a gorgeous set of flowers. Especially on a first date. Ready? They already have our table set up. I picked the back corner. Hope that’s okay.”

  With the flowers cradled in my right arm, I gave him my left. Not only was I possibly underdressed in black slacks and a silky white dolman-sleeve shirt from Banana’s—I was definitely totally overwhelmed.

  “Of course it’s okay. And the flowers—they’re . . . they’re beautiful. I don’t know what to say beyond thank you.”

  “They pale in comparison to you.” He winked and started to walk.

  Senseless, I followed.

  Was this a little weird? Not at all. This was a man who knew how to impress a girl on their first date. Romance on every axis. Flowers. Offering his arm. Commanding the date. He’s a little bit alpha, I thought. Which piqued my curiosity. Alpha-male romances had always been so exciting. Daring.

  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be so taken care of? If anything, this was an ideal date for my research. So, this was fine.

  Except my throat felt a little hot.

  Tyler led us farther into the dim restaurant, which smelled like a delectable mixture of gardenia and melted butter. Flickering candles danced among the low murmur of couples in dark wooden booths. The ambiance was sanguine and mellow. A violinist slowly sashayed around the tables.

  Storybook romance.

  He led me to a quiet corner all the way in the back, with only one table. The intimacy felt like a cocoon.

  “Oh.”

  The sound escaped my mouth before I could stop it. Pillar candles illuminated our closed-off space. Red rose petals scattered the tabletop and chairs. Half-full wine glasses graced both place settings, along with what appeared to be a wrapped box of chocolates in gold foil on top of one plate. Gossamer curtains could be drawn to give us more privacy.

  Tyler practically vomited romance from the books and right onto the table. The meaning of the quick patter of my heart wasn’t clear even to me. Was this amazing or . . .

  Or something.

  “Dinner for two, my lady,” he murmured.

  My lady?

  That felt a little weird.

  “Are those . . . Norbert Love Signature chocolates?” I squeaked and gestured to the distinctively green box on my plate.

  “Yes.” He brightened. “You know your confectionaries?”

  “Something like that,” I murmured weakly. They were a mere $125 a box. I only recognized them because my roommate Aiko had bought them for her fiancée Tanesha for Valentine’s Day last year. Tanesha had eaten them so slowly they’d lasted into summer semester. She’d cut them in fourths after a bad day and shared them with both of us.

  “I’m not just a romantic, but a hopeless romantic,” he admitted with a wide, unapologetic smile as we sat down.

  “It’s . . . impressive. I mean, I thought we were here to talk about you moving to the mountains.”

  Somehow, I tacked on what I hoped was a charming smile. He returned it.

  “We will definitely do that. Yes, it may seem like I’ve gone overboard, but as I said—you can’t recover from a bad first impression. Plus, this is how I show up in the world.”

  He shrugged a little as he said it. His lack of apology impressed me, but I leaned back against the booth as far as I could. For some reason, I wanted a little extra space from the Acqua di Gio. It filled the booth in a choking way.

  Tyler continued, “For some women, this kind of treatment is a bit too much. I understand that. I believe women should be pampered, protected, and taken care of. It so rarely happens anymore that I like to give it. As a sort of . . . gift, if you will. Any woman with me is always safe.”

  My internal critic immediately shrieked, Serial killer! Serial killer!

  Should a man have to insist he was a safe person? Would he expect a gift in return? With a lick of my lips, I brushed it off. Ellie had clearly gotten to me with her own fears. Tyler didn’t seem like a creep. He was just . . . intense.

  Obviously wealthy, too, with all this extravagance for a blind date.

  So, everything was fine.

  But what did he mean by protected and pampered? His charming routine felt slightly . . . sinister. Something inside of me recoiled at this situation. It felt like I was standing in a box with the walls caving in. Pressure all around me.

  Instead of screaming, I managed a smile. “That’s a . . . lovely sentiment.”

  Tyler leaned back and spread his hands. “Lizbeth, tell me everything about you. I’ve so looked forward to getting to know you. I want to hear it all.”

  “Right! You want to hear about life in the mountains.”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, well, life in the mountains is—”

  “We’ll get to that. What do you do for a living?”

  “Oh. Okay. Well . . . I’m not that exciting. I—”

  “I’ll decide that.”

  My jaw tightened.

  His eyebrows quirked in silent question.

  “Will you give me a chance to finish a sentence,” I asked, “or should I let you decide that too?”

  Although my tone had cooled, a hint of something appeared in his gaze. I hated to call it respect, but it was too intense for amusement. With a flicker of his fingers, he indicated for me to continue.

  “As I said . . .”

  While I explained a few aspects of life in the mountains, his attention focused wholly on me. For a little courage, I sipped at a glass of Dom Pérignon. My mouth warmed as I swallowed the wine. It wasn’t often that I drank. The scent reminded me of Mama, and any other liquor reminded me of Dad. He certainly drank them all, even mouthwash when he grew desperate while the bank account
dwindled.

  “Fascinating,” Tyler said when I finished. He’d fallen into a contemplative expression, but the waiter saved me from the awkwardness of asking what such a face meant. Before I could reach for my menu, Tyler spoke up.

  In French.

  Two semesters living with a French Canadian foreign exchange student who’d quickly become one of my best friends had made me conversant in the language. I followed him with some difficulty. He ordered an elk chop with raspberry sauce, a plate of charcuterie, and sea bass with scallops in lemon butter, then dismissed the waiter with a twitch of his hand.

  The melodic blur of his voice, like a string of velvet letters, left me stunned for a few seconds. Sexy. But kind of annoying. Fish? No thanks.

  Had I missed how high-end this restaurant was on the Yelp reviews? Did he just assume the waiter would speak French? I mean . . . was speaking French really necessary? JJ flickered through my mind, but I couldn’t place him in a restaurant like this, and he flitted back out.

  Tyler turned his attention back to me with another deeply charming smile. “Forgive me,” he said as he leaned forward. “I studied the menu beforehand, and I find the experience far more authentic in its original language. Do you trust my judgment?”

  No.

  The thought came so unexpectedly that I had to recover my thoughts and scramble to remember his question.

  Did I trust him?

  “As long as I get the elk chop.”

  His grin illuminated his handsome, dusky features. Another curl dropped onto his forehead. “You know French?” he asked, delighted.

  “I’m conversational, yes.”

  “How lovely.”

  “Shall we talk about your transition to the mountains? Do you have any questions?”

  “Yes, please, if you don’t mind.” A more sober expression came to his face. “My parents are getting old, and I don’t want to lose what time we have left. If they move here, I may need to move my business here as well. I’m concerned things are just too small. A date may feel a bit . . . odd for such a conversation as this . . . but it helps me feel like I know someone in the area more than just in passing. Besides, I wanted to test the local flavor.”