She blinked. “Don’t you want to know how much?”
He looked over at the café, shrewdly taking in the place. “I’m guessing a hundred, hundred fifty grand.”
“Yes, a hundred grand would work just fine.”
This was amazing. She could buy Shane out and get his inheritance back. He would go back to being just the supplier. Things would go back to normal. She wouldn’t be in debt to him anymore. Sure, she’d be in debt to Barry, but he was such an easygoing guy, she couldn’t imagine that being a problem.
Barry held out his hand to shake on it. She raised a palm, holding him off. “You’d get a fifty-percent share in the profits,” she said, “but I run the place. You’d be a silent partner.”
“Sounds perfect! Cash or check?”
“Um, check is fine.”
Barry had that kind of cash lying around? They shook on it.
“I’ll have my accountant cut a check,” Barry said. “You should get the money on Monday.”
Relief rushed through her. “Thank you, thank you so much. It’s very generous.”
He smiled. “I know a good investment when I see it.”
Now she just had to tell Shane. She decided not to mention Barry by name, seeing as how Shane still saw him as annoying at best, the enemy at worst. She’d just tell him he would be getting his investment back and he could reclaim his inheritance.
~ ~ ~
Shane smiled as Rachel stopped by his shop. His shop was empty, the lull between morning coffee and afternoon ice cream. He wasn’t sure she’d come to him after the way they’d left things last night with him reminding her it was her move, but she had. He wouldn’t make this difficult. It was enough that she came to him.
“Hey,” he said. “Long time no see. How are you?”
She played with the end of her braid, a sure sign she was nervous. “I’m okay.” She bit her lip. “Got a minute to talk?”
His stomach twisted. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be the good kind of talk.
He untied his apron and came out from behind the counter. She took a seat at a table near the front window. Did she want witnesses?
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I just wanted you to know I found an investor.”
“You did?”
“Yes. And I’ll have the money on Monday. Enough to buy you out and pay off the loan you gave me for my share. You can get the Shelby back.”
He crossed his arms. “What if I don’t want to sell my share?”
She turned pleading eyes to him. “Please let me do this.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to owe you. I don’t want you to sacrifice. It’s too much.”
“Rach, I’m okay with it.”
She gripped her hands tightly together. “It’s your inheritance. I want you to get it back.”
“I’m not buying back the Shelby,” he said. “And I don’t give a shit about the money.”
She stiffened. “Please don’t make this harder than it is. Just take the damn money!”
Something wasn’t sitting right with him. She was pushing him away.
“Just tell me this…” He paused, almost afraid to hear the answer. “Are you trying to push me out of the café or out of your life?”
“The café,” she said gently. “I just don’t want you to invest. Besides, I miss you. I miss our friendship. We never hang out anymore.”
Back to that again? Friends?
“You’re scared,” he said. “Scared to give a real relationship a chance. I’m not one of those loser guys you have to endlessly discuss with your friends, trying to figure out how to fix them and send them on their merry way.”
Her eyes narrowed. She stood. “Barry’s accountant will cut the check, and then you’ll have your money.”
He jumped up so fast the chair went flying out from under him. “Barry? Barry from The Dancing Cow? Are you fucking kidding me?”
She gave a quick nod and stepped carefully away.
“I’m not selling out to Barry!” he roared.
“I’m sending you the money either way,” she said, and then she left the shop, leaving him furious and ready to destroy Barry and his stupid dancing cow.
He closed up shop and got in his car, determined to end this deal right now.
~ ~ ~
Late on Monday, with no small amount of trepidation, Rachel crossed the street to Shane’s shop to give him the check she’d received from Barry. She’d asked that it be made out to Shane. She also brought the paperwork canceling her debt to Shane and naming Barry as silent partner in the shop. Gabe had helped with the paperwork while shaking his head at her. She hadn’t appreciated the reminder. She knew Shane wouldn’t be happy. But this was the only way to fix things.
She hadn’t called Shane to give him the heads-up, too afraid she’d lose her nerve. Instead she’d waited until just before Shane’s shop closed for the day before rushing across the street to catch him.
“Hi, Shane,” she called.
He was closing up the register. He eyed her. “Hello, Rachel,” he said flatly.
She swallowed and approached him. “Can we talk? About the business.”
He indicated a chair, and she sat. Her hands were shaking. Geez, what was she so worked up about? This was business, and she was just doing what needed to be done. He joined her a few minutes later, making her wait just long enough to consider running out of the shop.
She handed him the check. “It’s enough to buy out your share and cancel my debt.”
He stared at it. The check said Barry Furnukle Enterprises in bold right on top. “I told Barry I wasn’t selling.”
“I know. I told him it wasn’t up to you.”
His jaw tightened.
She pushed the other papers and a pen toward him. “I just need you to sign off that I paid my debt and, um, sign here that you’re not a partner.”
He signed off on the debt. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he took the check and ripped it into tiny pieces.
“Shane! What are you doing?” She gathered up all the pieces.
“I’m not taking Barry’s money, and I’m not selling.”
Rachel was feeling positively desperate. “I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to fix things!” She tried to piece the check back together, thinking maybe she could tape it, but the pieces were just too small. She gave up and stared down at the mess. “Now I’m going to have to get another check,” she muttered.
She met his eyes. He stared back, his expression fierce, and an unwelcome frisson of desire ran through her. She pushed back from the table.
He watched her as she stood and gathered the papers.
“We’re not finished,” she said. “I’ll be back soon with a new check.”
She headed for the door. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. She gasped. She hadn’t even heard him get up.
“You’ve got one thing right,” he said, invading her personal space. She took a step back, but his hand was suddenly at the small of her back, keeping her close. “We’re not finished.”
His mouth met hers in a hard kiss. She put her hands up to his chest, pushing him away, but then he gentled the kiss, and her hands weren’t pushing anymore, instead roaming over the hard planes of his warm chest. He took his time, slow and tender, and she surrendered to it, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him.
He pulled back to gaze into her eyes. His arms still held her close in a loose embrace. “Rach, I’m all-in.”
She swallowed hard. “I-I don’t want you to have to do this.”
“I’m in. The question is, do you have the guts to go all-in too?”
Her heart pounded in her ears. “I’ll try my best to make the café work, but I still feel—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Shane, please. You’re making this very difficult.”
His expression shuttered closed, and he dropped his arms, releasing her from hi
s embrace. “Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either.”
He turned and left out the back door of his shop.
Rachel stood there for a minute, speechless.
Was Shane right? Was she too scared to give a relationship a chance? She’d never had a serious relationship. Was that why she’d hooked up with losers in the past? She’d thought she’d just been unlucky. Cursed. But now…
Shit. He was right.
She was scared. Very scared. But what was worse? Her fear of a real relationship and all the possible ways things could go wrong or her fear of losing Shane?
~ ~ ~
Rachel had a restless night, thinking of Shane and his sacrifice. His question ran on repeat through her head: do you have the guts to go all-in too? When she finally dragged herself out of bed, she had no good answer.
Mid-morning, he stopped by to check on the café, and she walked over, needing to talk. She found him in the back assembling shelves.
“Were you ever going to tell me about selling the Shelby?” she asked.
He looked up, still holding a shelf in place. “No. I didn’t do it for any thanks. It means more when you do something without needing to take credit. Know what I mean?”
She’d never known anyone who went around doing good deeds anonymously.
“I guess,” she said.
He tapped the shelf into place with a mallet. “When I finish here, come back to my shop and I’ll teach you how to work the espresso machine.”
“Okay.”
A short while later, she followed Shane across the street, determined to make the best of their partnership and make their café a success. It was the least she could do for all that he’d sacrificed. They started with the espresso grinder to grind a fresh batch of Mexican dark roast beans.
“You want a very fine grind for the espresso," he said before he poured the beans in. "That’s why I have a separate grinder for it.”
She caught herself checking out his very firm ass and forced her gaze back to the grinder. It was the lack of sleep. It made her weak.
“Good to know,” Rachel said, her voice coming out all breathy and Marilyn Monroe-like.
Get a hold of yourself! He’s trying to teach you something very important!
Shane raised a brow, and any further conversation was stopped by the loud noise of the grinder. He took the container of espresso grounds and showed her.
“Take a pinch,” he told her, doing the same. “Slide it between your fingers. We want it to feel like grains of sand. If it feels like sugar, it’s too coarse. Flour-feel is also no good.”
Rachel slid it between her fingers. “Definitely sand.”
He nodded. “You’ll grind the next batch and keep doing it until you know exactly how long it takes in the grinder to get sand.”
“Okay,” she breathed. She gave herself a quick mental slap. She sounded like she’d been running a marathon instead of standing in his shop learning about espresso. She focused on the ice-cream menu, trying to cool it. She caught his efficient movements out of the corner of her eye as he moved over to the espresso machine. Shane standing there in a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and apron was disturbingly sexy.
It wasn’t her fault she was feeling lusty. He was the one that kissed her. Twice long, twice quick. She often thought of those long kisses.
“C’mere,” he said, to which she responded by rushing over in a lust-filled haze.
“I measured out the grounds,” he said. “So now we put it into the portafilter and we tamp the grounds.” He picked up a wooden mushroom-shaped tool and set the portafilter on a steel plate on the back countertop. Then he pounded the grounds down, twisting the tamper to flatten them further. Rachel’s eyes shifted from the tool in his hand to the play of muscles through his biceps and the corded muscle running down his forearm. He stopped and turned to her. She dragged her gaze back to his face.
He smiled, almost a smirk. She smiled back, forgiving his arrogance in light of the male beauty he presented before her. She really did appreciate his trips to the gym now.
He handed her the tool and gave the portafilter a shake. “Give it a try. We want to pack it down so it has good resistance to the hot water pouring through.”
She slammed the tamper down and nearly knocked the whole thing over.
“Easy,” he said, coming up behind her and placing his hands over hers. “We’re tamping it, not killing it.”
She nodded vigorously, enfolded in his warmth. She loosened her grip and let him guide her to the proper tamp. Heat ran through her as she remembered their kiss from yesterday. Just when she thought she might have the courage to turn in his arms and make her move, he stopped and pulled away.
“Looks good,” he said. “Now we attach it to the group, where the hot water comes out. Make sure it’s in there firmly; otherwise the water pressure will push everything out the sides of the portafilter and make a mess. Believe me, I know.”
“Firmly,” she repeated on a sigh. He attached the portafilter to the machine, and Rachel breathed in the scent of espresso and clean, sexy male. She leaned closer, up on tiptoe; even his hair smelled good.
He froze. “Are you smelling my hair?”
She jolted backward. “No. I was smelling the espresso.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “Sure seemed like you were smelling my hair.”
“Nope.” She played with the end of her braid. “So what’s next?”
“We’ve got to brew quickly, like now, or the espresso grounds will start to deteriorate.” He pressed a button and spoke over the noise of the machine. “It’s delicate.” A moment later, he stopped and showed her the cup of espresso. “Twenty seconds of brewing is ideal. Check out the foam, that’s the crema where the sugar is concentrated. We want it a quarter-inch thick and lasting about a minute before it breaks apart.”
Rachel pretended to watch the foam while she pondered how to make a move without being too obvious. Maybe she’d pull out her braid and shake out her hair. Or slide her shirt off one shoulder. No, lick her lips. They always did that in the movies.
“There it is,” he said. “Perfect.” He gave it a sip and handed the cup to her. “Try it.”
She licked her lips, but Shane just stood there waiting for her to sip. She took a sip. “It’s good.”
He nodded. “Next we dump out the grounds and clean the machine. We’ll keep the portafilter in the group so it stays warm.” She watched and sipped the espresso as he efficiently prepared the machine for the next shot.
She felt jittery and a little giddy. She must be hepped up on caffeine. Or Shane. He was her business partner. She shouldn’t let her appreciation for his good deed color her feelings for him. Yet she couldn’t seem to help it. Her eyes trailed down to his firm ass. It was a very nice ass.
He turned. “Eyes up here.”
She blushed furiously. “I wasn’t…I was just lost in thought, and you happened to be in my line of vision.”
“Uh-huh. You’re next.”
Her heart started pounding. “For what?”
He raised his brows. “What do you think?”
She wiped her suddenly clammy hands on her shorts. “I-I don’t know.”
He gave her a strange look. “Are you feeling okay? You’re all flushed and pink.” He put the back of his hand on her forehead. “You feel a little hot.”
I am. I’m way too hot for you.
She stepped away from his hand. Yes, she was hot for him, but she was getting major nerves just thinking about acting on that. Was she ready for what that would open up between them? She knew Shane didn’t do casual. Maybe that’s what had scared her off him in the first place. In high school, he’d dated Kerry Habinowski for three years until she left for college. She’d heard he’d dated a woman from the culinary school for five years. The entire time she’d been back in Clover Park, she hadn’t heard of him dating anyone. Except that one date with Janelle. She had a feeling one hookup wouldn’t cut it for Shane with someone he really cared ab
out.
With her.
Her pulse raced. Did she have the guts to go all-in?
Would she end up losing him?
He smiled and said gently, “It’s your turn to make an espresso.”
“Oh! Okay.” She turned to the espresso grinder and found she couldn’t remember a single thing he’d just taught her. She hadn’t been paying attention to anything but the play of his muscles as he worked and her debate over whether or not to make a move. God, she was pathetic. She turned to him. “Little hint here?”
He smiled. “Yup.”
He spent hours going over and over the process with her until she could have made the perfect espresso in her sleep. Not that sleep would come anytime soon from all the caffeine she drank. She spent another restless night thinking of Shane. Neal was a very poor substitute.
Chapter Fifteen
Shane headed for the street-fair meeting at the library at the end of what had turned out to be a great day. The café was looking fantastic. He’d been prepared for the inevitable bumps along the way of working with various contractors and product delivery, but everything had been going smoothly. Today the flooring guys showed up on time and finished the floor in one day. The dark laminate wood really made the red of the walls pop. The furniture would be delivered Thursday morning.
“Hey there, handsome,” Miss Smith called with a wiggle of her fingers. She’d gone from friendly to blatant flirting as he’d been at the library every Monday night this summer.
He blushed anyway. Dammit. “Hi, Miss Smith, how are you?”
“I’m very well, thank you.” She craned her neck as he passed, clearly checking him out from behind.
What could he do? He was senior-citizen eye candy. He smiled to himself, remembering how he’d caught Rachel doing the same thing last week when he’d taught her to make espresso. Rachel was definitely warming up to the idea of moving things to the next level. She’d been smiling at him more ever since she found out he’d sold the Shelby. If he’d known it would get this kind of reaction, he might have mentioned it sooner. All this week she’d been touching his arm a lot, and he’d caught her watching him as he worked at the café with the workmen. Good signs, but not enough. He wanted her all-in, plain and simple. No more of this two steps forward, one step back.
Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Page 15
