“The staff and patrons of the café. I am Angel, the manager of this establishment.” He pointed to a wooden bar, with carved mermaids jutting from the wood. “We serve a variety of beverages, from any coffee flavor you can imagine to alcoholic drinks. We also have some delectable food. I recommend the spinach hummus.”
“Not really the hummus type.” Aidan hooked his fingers in his pockets. Why did he feel like the guy was trying to sell him a used car? The sooner they got on with whatever this was, the better.
“I’d suggest you give ours a chance. At any rate, let’s get you a drink, and then I’ll show you to your table.”
“Isn’t the whole point that I can sit anywhere? You even have bean bags over in the corner.” Aidan gestured around the room. He didn’t know what he’d expected, coming to a coffeehouse on a dare. Maybe that it would be more thrilling and less… suspicious.
At the bar, Angel gave him a gracious smile then snapped his fingers at the barista. “Lia, this is Mr. Craig. Please get him whatever he should want.”
“Black coffee is fine.”
“Oh, but are you sure?” Lia asked. Hickory brown hair floated, ethereal, around her soft features. Her bright blue eyes twinkled at him and she spoke in an almost-gone accent he couldn’t quite place. Definitely not Kentuckian. “I can do much better than a plain black coffee.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Pour the coffee, let this fella show me to my table, and let’s get this over with.”
Lia nodded and poured his black coffee into a porcelain mug on which two gold hearts intertwined.
Aidan took it from her. “How much do I owe you?”
“On the house.” The brunette gave him a wide smile. Even her face was heart-shaped, for Pete’s sake.
Still, this place was pretty relaxing. Maybe it’d be nice to stop by after his shifts. He could get some coffee and a pastry before he headed home.
“Let me show you to your table.”
“Where adventure awaits, huh?” Aidan couldn’t help being a little abrasive. This whole setup seemed strange.
Angel didn’t reply, he simply walked toward a bank of booths and Aidan followed him. When Angel stopped at a booth, Aidan could hardly believe what he saw.
In the booth, her long chocolate hair up in a bun, sat Ms. Fisher. He sputtered out the words he’d waited two years to say to her. “Thank you.”
She turned her gaze from the window to face him. Her eyes were a haunting shade of green, like a jungle cat’s. “I’m sorry?”
Aidan slid into the booth. He wanted to take her hand, but she didn’t seem to remember him and he didn’t want to alarm her. She had a cup like his, filled with caramel-colored liquid.
“Ms. Fisher, you don’t remember me. I understand. You’ve probably helped hundreds of people. I’m Aidan Craig.” He did hold his hand out to her then and she shook it, a look of uncertainty on her face.
“Call me Roxie.” She extricated her hand and took a sip of her coffee. “How do we know each other? What are you thanking me for?”
“Let me start again. My wife died two years ago.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her brow puckered, and she seemed genuinely pained on his behalf.
“That’s the thing. You were there. Not at the exact moment, but before. You helped sign her up for hospice so she could go at home, and gave me the names of some support groups and a therapist. I saw Dr. K. from before she died until six months or so ago.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked at him for a moment. “I’m glad I helped, but I was just doing my job.”
“It was more than that for me. I bet you help people all the time.” He settled into the booth, getting comfortable, and took a sip of his coffee. This wasn’t exactly an adventure, but he’d been waiting a long time to say those words to her.
“Not as much as you’d think, and never anymore.”
“You quit?”
“Yes.” She glanced back at the window, a wistful expression on her face. “And, no, I really don’t want to talk about why. Things happened, and now I don’t do social work anymore.”
“So… what do you do?”
Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, she turned back to him with a sigh. “I don’t work anymore. I can’t seem to find a job where I don’t have to people.”
“People, like a verb?” A smile flickered across his face. It was strange talking to someone he’d spent the last few years building up in his mind only to find out she was just a regular person, albeit an odd one.
“Yeah, you know. Be around people. What do you do? Weren’t you an accountant?”
Aidan nodded, staring into his coffee. “Good memory. But after Miley died, I decided I needed a change in…life. Job, hobbies, everything. I became a professional firefighter for the city.”
Roxie turned her full attention on him, wrapping her hands around the porcelain cup of coffee or whatever she was drinking. “That’s a big change.”
“Yeah. So, if you don’t work, what do you do to fill your time?” Aidan couldn’t imagine a life without work, his friends, adventure. Fullness.
“Well… I volunteer at a cat rescue. I socialize feral cats.”
“Cats,” he deadpanned. Was she for real?
“Right. You know, kittens? If they don’t get socialization when they’re babies, they become feral and there’s this whole process to get them used to people so they can be adopted into loving homes.”
“Sounds like social work for cats.”
“It’s not social work.” She shook her head, vehement. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“Okay, chill.” He put a hand on her wrist to reassure her. Her pulse leapt under his fingertips. He’d never meant to upset her. “So, what are you doing here?”
Roxie pulled her hand away, tucking it in her lap. “Opening my heart to adventure, or some nonsense.” She took a sip of her drink. “I got this weird letter telling me to show up today for an opportunity.”
“Yeah, me too. My ‘next adventure awaits.’ I sure don’t see much opportunity for adventure.” He looked around at the people milling about, writing on laptops, reading, or chatting with other people. “Looks like it’s a bust for both of us.”
“I didn’t expect much, so it’s not a let-down. I’ve adopted that as my life mantra. Low expectations are the way go—never disappointing.”
“Right,” he said. She sounded lower than he did after Miley’s death. He wished he knew how to help her, the way she’d helped him
“My mom brought me here. She was afraid I wouldn’t come if she didn’t, which is probably true. Apparently, I’m twelve.” She was prettier than he remembered, which made sense. He hadn’t seen much except Miley back then. Still her skin was so pale, it seemed nearly translucent. Big green eyes gazed up at him and appealing, full lips puckered.
It was odd, seeing someone from before and—he might as well admit it—being attracted to her. Something about her tugged at him. That was about the best he could describe it. “You want a ride home?”
“If I wait here, my mom will grill me about what happened the whole way home. Which, is nothing.” She gave another deep sigh. “Sure.”
Aidan quirked an eyebrow at her. “Ready?”
“Definitely. I’ve opened my heart as far as I’m going to. What a waste of time. No offense—seeing you was nice.”
“Nah, I know exactly what you mean.” He wondered why her mom had brought her, or insisted that Roxie come. Wondered what she was doing volunteering at a cat rescue when she’d been so good at her job. She’d been helpful and empathetic, but she’d said the word “dying” when no one else would. That had meant the world to him.
He couldn’t just do nothing. He needed to know more about her, to do something. Maybe he could help her back.
Chapter Two
Roxie pushed her mug away and stood. “Let me call my mom.”
The scent of coffee and sweet pastries hung in the air as she snuck a look at Aidan. She remembered him. He was a hard
guy to forget. She’d thought, back then, he looked nothing like any accountant she’d ever met. He was far too muscular, too tough-looking even as his world crumbled around him.
He scowled at some smiling patrons on a long sofa and she took a shaky breath. No way, in the normal course of things, would a guy like that even talk to her. Most of the time, Roxie was numb. Not even sad anymore, just… numb. But when he’d approached her, touched her, something cracked in all that darkness. What a dangerous idea.
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and touched the speed dial for her mom’s number.
After a couple of rings, her mom picked up the house phone. “Roxie, is something wrong?”
“No, mom. Not a thing. Just… nothing happened, like I told you it wouldn’t.”
“Well, maybe if you wait a little longer.”
She looked over at Aidan, finishing up his black coffee. He was a lot sexier than she remembered—of course, the last time she’d seen him, his wife was dying. Those were not the sort of circumstances where you thought about such things.
All the same, he had a boyish charm about him, in his smile. Something that said, “Let’s get up to no good.” His eyes were a bright hazel. She couldn’t quite pin down the actual color, but they sparkled with intensity. His hair was short, but thick and the color of chestnut. He had high cheekbones, dotted with stubble from a day or two of growth. If she was being honest with herself, and why not, when he’d first approached her, her heart had raced.
Turning back toward the wall, she put him firmly out of her mind. At least the parts that had to do with her visceral reaction to him. “I met… an old friend here. He’s going to give me a ride home.”
“Aw, well, drat. Okay, then, honey. Be safe.”
“I always am. Bye.” Roxie ended the call and turned back to Aidan, who had stood and emptied his cup as well.
“I’m just outside,” he said, pointing toward the door.
Roxie grabbed her handbag, tossed her phone inside, and followed him from the café. As they walked out, the manager watched them intently with a small smile on his face.
Outside, Aidan stopped beside a matte black Harley and offered her a helmet. She looked between him and the motorcycle several times. “This is our ride home?”
“Yep. Live a little. It’s not as dangerous as it looks. I’m a damn good driver.” He took her purse from her and stowed it in the small trunk on the back.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle.” She did an internal check and realized she wasn’t scared. If anything, something inside her begged for something a little different.
With a shrug, she gave him her address. She didn’t live in city limits and if he wanted to back out, she could call her mom back. Go back into the café and let the atmosphere wash over her again.
“I have a friend near there, a firefighter. I know exactly where you live.”
After some difficulty, Roxie got the helmet on over her head. “But what about you? Isn’t that against the law?”
He gave her another one of those mischievous grins. “Our fine state doesn’t have a helmet law.”
“Well, it should. That’s unsafe.” If they had an accident, she didn’t want to be the reason he was brain dead. “Are you sure you don’t want your helmet back?”
“Hey, you’re not a social worker anymore. Let me worry about me.”
She looked off at the traffic slowly moving down the busy street. “Good point.”
He climbed on and she hitched her leg and hopped up behind him. She pressed against him because the seat allowed them no distance. Would it be weird for her to put her arms around him?
When he took off, zooming out into traffic, she didn’t care if it was weird or not—she needed to hold on to something. She was aware of him between her legs, of crushing her breasts again his back to hang on as he drove super-fast through the streets of Louisville and then on the county road.
Roxie’s heart raced, and not just from fear, once she got used to speeding through the evening air. Something…what was it she was feeling? Then it hit her—she was feeling. When they hit the wide-open road, she actually threw her arms up, the wind whooshing around her. She burrowed into his back, turning her helmeted head to the side.
Her arms wrapped around this man, the city spreading out into houses and yards and flying by, the sheer freedom of hurtling through space together—this was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her in years. She never wanted it to end.
Eventually, the streets and houses began to look familiar. They’d be at her place soon, and regret churned in her gut. On the road outside her parents, Aidan expertly pulled up to the curb and brought the motorcycle to a stop, dropping both feet to the ground to steady the bike. “You hop off first, then I’ll put down the kickstand, okay?”
“Oh, right! Sure.” She put one foot on the ground and slid her leg over the seat, snaking it around his back to join the other foot. She undid the helmet and tugged it over her head, sure her bun must be a mess by now. “I guess I’m the one who got an adventure.”
Aidan took his time climbing off the bike, then studied her for a moment. “Would you like to do it again sometime?”
“Sure. It was actually fun.” He wasn’t asking her out, was he? No way. That would be ridiculous. Roxie was an unemployed crazy person living with her parents and he was a hot firefighter with a motorcycle.
“Let me see your phone.” He held out his hand, those ever-changing hazel eyes studying her. Were they green, or blue, or gray? They seemed to change with the light.
She raised an eyebrow, but pulled the phone out of her pocket. “Why?”
“I’m going to send myself a text from your number so I can add it to my contacts. Then I’ll send you a text and you can do the same. Haven’t you ever exchanged numbers with someone?”
“Not for a long time, not really.” Heat flushed her face. “But are you seriously going to call me to hang out or something? Because this seems a lot of trouble for someone you’re never going to see again.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He tilted his head and his eyebrows drew down.
She stared at him. How did she put this? “I’m not really a fun person. And I don’t hang out. I go to the shelter, and I chill with my cat, Jinx.”
“You must do other things.”
“I… watch trashy TV shows on Netflix. The kind where they make you cry, or you yell at the television to just kiss the sexy doctor already.” She toed the pavement, keeping her eye on a dark spot there where it had been patched.
He nodded sagely, as if he had ever done such a thing in his life. “We should definitely get together.”
“You’re kidding me.” She stared at him outright as he sent himself a text.
“Nope. I’ll give you a call. I’m on duty tomorrow, but look for a call on Thursday.” He hopped onto his motorcycle and plucked the helmet from her hands, stowing it in a large saddlebag. “See ya.”
He rode off, the sun slowly making its way toward the horizon in front of him. Roxie didn’t know what to do with herself, so she tucked her phone in her pocket and sat down on the curb.
What had just happened?
The next day, Aidan went to work as usual. He and Kurt volunteered to go get the day’s snacks and food from the money the other guy’s chipped in. Kurt enjoyed cooking when he was on, so he liked to make sure he picked up quality ingredients. Aidan was no cook, but he did a pretty good job at prep—chopping vegetables or opening cans—and it kept him from having to clean up afterward.
They were in the fruit and vegetables aisle, picking out fresh tomatoes. Kurt cleared his throat. “So, how was your date with the dare?”
“It wasn’t a date. Nothing exciting happened, except I met up with the social worker who helped us when Miley was dying.”
“Total bust, huh?” Kurt tossed two sacks of potatoes in the cart and they turned the corner.
Aidan shrugged, stopping to peer down at the list. Crackers and chips were nex
t. “Not totally. We talked, I gave her a ride home, and I got her phone number.”
“You dog—you’ll turn anything into a chance to pick up chicks.”
“It’s not like that.” Aidan grabbed two bags of chips, different flavors, and placed them in the buggy.
“She’s not hot?”
“Oh, she’s hot.” Aidan paused in the aisle to bring up an image of Roxie in his mind. He saw her the way she looked last night with her pristine white blouse and the bun perched precariously on her head, then in all her professional work garb, big curls around her face. “Big full lips, almost too big for her face. Really pretty green eyes, and she smelled like sugar cookies.”
Kurt grabbed the buggy and pushed it, because they’d bottlenecked the grocery aisle. An elderly woman sniffed as she slid past and shot them a glare. “Then are you planning to hook up with her or not?”
“Nah. She’s too… fragile for hooking up.”
“What’s that mean?”
Aidan considered it while he helped Kurt put five pounds of hamburger in the cart. “She seems vulnerable. Like a strong wind could take her out.”
“So you’re going to date her? The playboy meets a girl he wants to date?” Kurt shook his head, emitting a slow whistle. “Never saw that coming.”
“Listen, stop turning it into that. She’s… broken. Something happened and she quit her job. And I’m pretty sure she’s living with her parents. She has sad eyes… I just thought she seemed like she could use a friend.”
“So you’re going to be friends with a chick you, yourself, deem sexy.”
There was something about her that called out to him. He needed to pay her back for her kindness, whether she considered it doing her job or not. More, she seemed in serious need of a friend. So, he’d call and get her out of the house. Get her away from the trashy TV and non-kissing sexy doctors.
She’d loved riding the motorcycle—and in his experience, a person either loved it forever or they hated it, no in-between. Would she enjoy some of his more daring activities? The ones he did to prove he was still alive? “Just friends,” he confirmed.
Exactly Like You: A Cupid Cafe Story Page 2
