by Quinn, Taryn
Well, except those two exceptional moments yesterday.
Someday, I’d stop cringing about it.
When I was ninety maybe.
I worked on shower prep for a bit and then passed the rest of the day on my sofa. Watching TV and surfing online seemed to be about the extent of what I had energy for.
As was driven home to me with sterling clarity when I woke up with my neck bent at an unnatural angle and my face smushed into a Febrezed cushion the next morning.
What was my damage lately? This was like a super stealth bug or something. Kept coming and going without warning. But today was the shower, and I needed to get my butt moving.
Making a fleet of paper cranes from a tutorial I found on YouTube seemed safe. I could always spray them down with Lysol. Not that they should hold germs in the oxygenated air—thank you, weird science trivia lodged in my brain. In that regard, I shouldn’t be causing any problems with the women and children who would probably be in attendance.
Before I’d fallen asleep last night, I’d spent a couple hours swearing at my smart TV since the little screen of my phone wasn’t enough. Apparently, I needed the videos approximately forty-two inches in size to learn how to make the paper cranes. I fell asleep dreaming of them.
I really had to stop sleeping on the sofa. Especially before nine o’clock. What was I, seven years old? It wasn’t as if I didn’t have a truly stupendous new bed to sleep on. But sleeping there made me think of Dare, and thinking of Dare made me think of wall-knocking sex or puke.
Right now, neither of those options did much for me. So…couch it was.
Lame. So lame.
After a shower and no other stomach episodes, I used part of the morning to finish my little project.
I started with the big ones that we’d hang from the trees in the backyard. When I only mangled fifteen of the hundred sheets of origami paper or so, I moved on to little ones that would perch on top of the cupcakes from Sugar Rush, a super cute bakery in town. Okay, possibly the only bakery.
When my hand started cramping, I switched to texting Ally to make sure everything was ready.
I got three replies and finally a photo reply with her middle finger in crystal clear focus with a half dozen tables already set up in her backyard. Okay, so I was being a little anal about the party.
But I really wanted it to go well. I liked having girlfriends. Was it so wrong to show them that?
I frowned down at the pile of paper cranes. Okay, maybe I was overdoing it a little. But then again, Sage was the one who told me stories about how many of these crazy paper animals Oliver made her.
I sniffled and wiped my hand under my nose. Why the hell were my eyes leaking? I huffed out a breath and got up to wash my hands and face and blow my nose. Maybe I was sicker than I’d thought. There was no reason for me to be getting all teary about paper cranes.
Just because I’d never had a guy in my life who cared enough about me to obsessively make little paper animals didn’t mean my life was incomplete. And okay, so what if my ex-boyfriend had treated me more like an afterthought than his partner? That was on me too. I was the one willing to take scraps.
That was so over. Crescent Cove was my fresh start.
I exhaled and waved a hand near my eyes to dispel the rest of the tears then stalked over to my phone and opened my music app. I didn’t have to sit here in silence and cry about dumb stuff.
Because the dumb stuff pushed me into thinking too much about a certain single dad I had no business worrying about. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell me he had a child, let alone that said child was in my class.
Who got the name Dare from Charles, dammit? Not that Charles suited him. Maybe Charlie, but definitely not the name fit for a royal. A guy with that name would not have the kind of oral prowess that made me dream about him four weeks-plus later. Even just remembering it made my toes tingle.
And other things.
The fact that I’d never had such things happen between my legs in my life could account for some of it. Like never to the tenth power of ever. But that didn’t mean I should still be thinking about him.
I couldn’t even do a one-night stand properly. Okay, so it was two nights, but it wasn’t even like it was a wild weekend. Two distinct moments of madness.
Three if I counted the way he pushed me up against my desk. Until memories of almost tossing my cookies in his face made me reach for my phone. Talk about ruining the moment. I didn’t need to relive that particular personal movie reel.
Cranking the volume on the Matt Nathanson song, “Faster,” did the trick. I shook my booty a little as I gathered the cranes carefully and put them in a huge box to take to Ally’s house.
Next was the little name cards for the mason jar favors. I should have done them a week ago, but getting the reports ready for the parent-teacher meetings had consumed most of my evenings. Falling asleep before nine each night wasn’t exactly helpful for getting things done either.
As I finished the tag for the last of the mason jars on my counter, they all began to rattle from the rumble of something downstairs with a heavy bass. I’d put on my cleaning playlist, but growl rock was not my preferred genre. Nor could my little speakers hit that volume. I reached over for my phone and hit pause.
Sure enough, music was pulsing through my floorboards. One person had moved into the other end of the building on my floor, but the storefront beneath me had been empty even prior to me moving in.
I stuffed my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and went to investigate. The blast of the scent of coffee when I opened my door threatened to put me on my knees.
Whoa, nelly.
I drank my morning coffee to perk up my brain, but it had never been a staple in my life beyond that. In fact, a Diet Coke was just as effective for me. I crept down the stairs to the lobby of the building. The unmistakable scent of chocolate and coffee beans hung in the air like a fog. The butt end of a truck blocked the double doors of the previously newspapered windows.
The old plate glass windows had been replaced with more ornate glass with gorgeous arches. A petite woman with the smallest paintbrush ever was slowly drawing something on the window in gold paint. Her lower half was moving to some internal beat that did not match the overhead song. A bright turquoise rag swished around like a tail from the back pocket of her overalls. It matched the Chucks she was wearing. A bright pink T-shirt and high lemon-blond ponytail finished out her ensemble. Oddly, the upper part of her was rock steady, as if it was completely separate from the bottom half of her.
A shrill whistle made me scrunch up my shoulders and stumble back a step as strapping guys wearing gray uniforms with a patch on the pocket that said GF pulled huge pallets of coffee through the main aisle and disappeared down the back hall.
In the middle of all the chaos was a girl—no, a woman. I hated it when people called me a girl. I was twenty-six-years-old, for heaven’s sake. But my red hair and freckles made me look years younger. Especially when I couldn’t be bothered with makeup.
But this woman had a startlingly angular face and an athletic body. She wore a black tank top and slightly faded black jeans with black and white Chucks. She was shouting over the deafening sounds of music and machines. Her inky hair was piled up on her head in a messy bun that I never could quite pull off and her face was completely devoid of makeup. Siberian Husky blue eyes suddenly pierced me where I stood.
“Hi.”
“Who the fuck are you?” she asked.
My eyebrows shot up. “Upstairs neighbor,” I shouted back.
She mouthed, “crap,” under her breath. Only reason I knew that was the champion lip reading capabilities I had thanks to years of teaching kids. Five-year-olds were prime mumblers.
I put my hands on my hips as she walked around the boxes before finally stroking her hand along a very large black and purple commercial coffee machine adorned with…flames? Definitely not the same kind I’d seen in Starbucks. Nope, there was nothing sta
ndard about the beast of a thing. Or the way the woman petted it with a smile on her face.
The smile faded as she got closer to me. She gestured toward the door and I followed her out to the front of the building. We squeezed by the truck as she gave a parting order to a wiry guy with jet-black hair.
She turned to me. “Hey, sorry. I meant to give you a head’s up about the cafe.” She wiped her hand down her denim-clad thigh, then held it out. “I’m Macy Devereaux.”
I glanced down at her hand, then at her eyes. They were a truly startling blue, and I’d never batted for the other team. At least not yet. I shook her hand. “I’m Kelsey Ford.”
“Hope not a relation to the car people, because Fords blow.” She winced. “Sorry. I keep trying to return the rude button, but it comes back like a zit every time.”
I snorted. “I have a babble button. Return policy sucks.”
Macy barked out a rusty laugh, as if she didn’t use it very often. “We should be done around dinner time. Then things will quiet down.”
I had the baby shower today, so that wasn’t a big deal. Every day though? “The music?” I asked.
She nibbled the corner of her lower lip. “About that part.”
I sighed. “As long as it’s not to this level every day, we’re cool.”
“Oh, no. I need to hear my customers.” She smirked and shoved a hank of bangs out of her face. “Rock music tends to get people moving when it comes to unloading so I usually crank it. That and it keeps conversation down to a minimum.”
“Wonder if I can try that on six-year-olds.”
It was Macy’s turn for her eyebrows to shoot up. “Uh, not sure Sesame Street should ever be at that level.”
“More like Magic School Bus these days.”
She frowned. “I think I watched that as a kid.”
I laughed. “You know how it goes these days. They steal all our cool stuff.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Not that I know too much about kids, but the stores are full of stuff that looks like glammed-up versions of our childhood stuff.”
“No kids?” I asked.
“God, no.” She shuddered. “I have two cats and call it good.”
“Me neither.” But the longing was there. I tried not to think about it much, but with everyone pregnant around me, I couldn’t help but wonder.
Work usually stuffed it down. I was exhausted taking care of twenty-three six-year-olds. Did I really want to run after a toddler right now?
A flash of a little boy with bright blond hair and wary blue eyes ran through my head. Why Wes popped in my head, I didn’t know. He was a great kid, but he wasn’t the easiest to get to know. Or maybe that was because his father was equally as wary, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him either.
I plastered on a smile. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry to interrupt.”
Again, Macy gnawed on the corner of her bottom lip. “You like coffee?”
“Not really.” I winced. “Probably shouldn’t say that to the head barista in charge.”
“Change that barista to bitch and we’re close. Actually, that’s probably even better. If I can get a non-coffee lover to dig my stuff…” She shrugged. “Well, it would be pretty rad.”
“Rad?”
She shrugged. “Blame my brother. Anyway, come on in and try the new espresso I’m working on.”
“I don’t know. Espresso is kind of bitter.”
“Not mine. And I have a nice chocolate kick to balance it. And to add to its addictive quality.”
“I do like chocolate.”
“Only assholes don’t.”
I laughed as I followed her back inside. She certainly said what she wanted to on the subject. I had a feeling she’d like Sage and Ally as well. They were also more into coffee than I was.
Macy rounded the counter to the huge L-shaped coffee bar, then stroked her hand down the purple beast of a machine. “What’s your tolerance?”
I climbed on the rich toffee-colored stool. “Are we talking one to ten?”
She shrugged. “That works.”
“Probably a three. I’m naturally a little high-strung.”
“That doesn’t shock me, Red.” She dumped beans into a grinder and started fiddling with the pots lined up in front of her. “I make a proprietary blend, but have to wait for all my product to get here. I’m missing a truck. It’s somewhere in Rochester.”
“Oh, then it’s coming today?”
“It better.”
I frowned. “It’s Sunday.”
She grunted as she locked a large handled cup into place. “I’m aware.” The machine hummed to life. Instead of the super loud hiss I was used to, the machine seemed to hum and vibrate.
When the espresso was extracted, my mouth literally watered. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened with anything other than the chocolate fountain at my cousin Zelda’s wedding. The espresso was sharp and heavy, and almost warmed the air with the flavor and scent.
Macy steamed some milk and fiddled with something else then poured the chocolate and little metal cup of espresso together into a mug. Next came the milk with a flourish of foam. A pretty leaf appeared with a deft flick of her wrist before she pushed the mug in front of me.
“It’s not overly hot. I don’t like to scald my milk or the customers.”
I looked down at the huge mug. It wasn’t that deep, but nearly the size of a bowl. I cupped my hands around it and groaned. “That smells amazing.”
“It tastes even better.”
“I believe you.” I took a sip and literally groaned. Pretty much as I had when Dare had done that thing with his tongue.
Macy used a rag to wipe down the spigot used to steam the milk. “I know my espresso is amazing, but not usually that good.”
“What?” I swallowed another sip. “Oh, it really is. I’ll need one of these every morning of my life.”
Macy laughed. “Coffee doesn’t make me blush.”
“Oh.” My flush deepened. That explained why I felt as if my temperature had risen a bazillion degrees. “Not sure anything has made me groan like that beyond one thing.” I cleared my throat. “That’s all.”
“Well, I do call it the Chocolate Orgasm, so that’s fitting.”
The foam went down wrong and I coughed.
Macy smirked. “We like crazy names. Welcome to Brewed Awakening, Kels.”
“What a great name.”
“I thought so. The sign is coming this week.”
“When do you open?”
“Halloween. My favorite holiday.”
“That’s awesome. We needed a decent coffee shop. You can get a good cup at the diner, but it’s nothing fancy. Probably why I preferred Diet Coke.”
“Blaspheme.”
I laughed.
“Hey buddy, you mind not blocking my freaking bay?” Angry male reporting for duty.
“We’re working here.” The second guy said it with a rumble. “Piss off.”
I sat up straight.
Macy swore and rushed around the bar. “Crap. Joey!” she yelled as she sprinted for the double doors.
I moved to follow, but went back for two more swallows to finish my coffee. I couldn’t help the secondary groan when I heard the first male voice again.
“What did you say?”
I knew that pissy voice. I scrambled off the stool and followed Macy through the door.
Dare stood beside the truck. His huge shoulders seemed even more massive in the white tank top he was wearing. A grease smear slashed across his chest and shoulder, and the snug material emphasized his ridiculously attractive muscles.
Hell, all his parts were ridiculously attractive.
Parts I knew a little too well and yet not at all. We’d barely gotten our clothes all the way off before we were tearing at each other like two horny teens. Because I would have remembered the star-shaped pattern of freckles on the tanned skin between his shoulder and neck.
I probably would hav
e traced it with my tongue.
Pull it together, Kels. Jeez.
Dare had his arms crossed over his chest and his hands fisted under his insanely ripped biceps. He was crowding into the wiry dark-haired man who had been unpacking the truck.
Dare was a good three inches taller than the guy who had to be Joey. Not that the scrappier dude was backing down. Dare let his arms fall to his sides, but it didn’t stop the ripple of muscle. Instead, it seemed to only flex and vibrate more.
Had he always had so many freckles?
Focus.
Oh, but I am.
“Dare,” I said breathlessly.
He shot those wicked blue eyes my way and my breath stalled. He frowned then refocused his attention on the guy. “I asked nicely.” A little muscle fluttered in his jawline as his teeth clenched. “Twice. I need to get the car I’m working on out of the bay and test-drive it.”
“And I told you we would be done soon.”
“Okay, okay.” Macy moved between them. “Joey, just drive around the corner and park in front instead of taking up half the street.”
“We have two more pallets to get off the truck and we’re done.”
I stepped forward. “We’re…friends.” The frustration vibrating between the men zinged along my skin like a current. Or, possibly, it could just be because I was this close to Dare again. I didn’t really want to think about it. I curled my fingers around Dare’s forearm. “You could give him what? Twenty minutes?”
Joey’s mouth thinned. “Fifteen.”
“Even better.” I tugged Dare inside the coffee shop. “You should try one of Macy’s coffees.”
“I don’t like that shit.” His jaw was still set and his brow was creased with a stubborn scowl.
“I guarantee you’ll like hers.”
Macy glanced between us. “Right. Well, I do straight coffee too, Mr…”
“Just Dare.” He said it to Macy, but didn’t stop glowering down at me.
I wasn’t sure if it was wrong that my nipples were tight and pointing at him like a target or if it was just my natural status around Dare. I let him go and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Just come in for a second.”
