Ivy got into her car, made the silent drive over to her coffee shop, and began opening the store. Her manager walked in with a nod which Ivy returned. She didn’t dislike her manager, but she didn’t like him, either. He was just there, a person who supervised her and occasionally helped her.
It described the job perfectly, really. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it was not what Ivy wanted, and she saw no way forward.
Within just a couple of hours, the coffee shop was teeming with people, as usual, everyone desperate to get their caffeine kick before the start of a new week. Businessmen, college students, moms, everyone came in—it made for an interesting sight to Ivy, who felt like she could see all of society blended together in a coffee shop. Nowhere else, outside of maybe a bar—and even then, doubtful—did Ivy think she would see all classes of the area blend together.
Ivy was manning the cash register and taking orders, which she was being forced to do because, as usual, the shop had limited staff. While she much rather preferred the barista duties behind the counter so that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, she had mostly moved past the point of caring at her job. She just accepted the role with silent resignation and waited for her work to end so she could focus on her true passion.
On this particular Monday, though, it seemed like everyone wanted to talk. They wanted to talk about the weather. They wanted to talk about the game Ivy had worked through. They wanted to ask about Ivy’s job as a barista.
Ivy didn’t care for any of it. And when she saw a man with half-open eyes, tattered clothing, and a bad tan approach, she bit her lip and faked a smile, praying he wouldn’t have interest in hitting on her or talking.
“A hot tall skinny upside down with whip caramel macchiato,” the man in front of her said dryly, wearing a creepy grin that Ivy tried her best not to respond to.
Ivy clenched her jaw as she typed in the order, wondering if the man was calling out his preference in women or coffee. The way he had spoken, she really couldn’t say for sure.
He handed her the cash, and she smiled as she returned the change to him. He snorted as he took it and pocketed it.
She had a brief respite, although it wouldn’t last, given that someone in a suit was approaching the front door. In that moment, she thought of how she had given the man three dollars and some cents in change. She did the math on how long it would take for her to pay off her debt with that kind of money and the barista’s hourly earnings.
Years.
She sighed. A few more years of this, she reminded herself, just a few more years and then she could look for an actual job.
But a few years had a way of seeming like way too long when put into dollar denominations of barely double digits.
The man walked away and Ivy took a moment to take in a deep breath. It was only 8:30 a.m. in the morning but she was tired already. How was she going to survive another six hours of this? How was she going to survive another six weeks of this? Six months? Six years? Could she really make it years when she couldn’t make it a single day? Maybe she should grab some of the coffee. Maybe—
“Morning,” she heard a voice and snapped her neck up to look at the next customer.
The forced polite smile that she had instinctively pasted on her face faded when she saw the man in front of her. It didn’t happen often, and certainly not to this degree, but when a true man like this walked in… well, she didn’t have to fake feeling happy to feel good.
Was she just imagining this? He sported a sharp-as-a-razor jaw, freshly shaved cheeks, a pointed nose, and chiseled features like he had recently been sculpted from marble. He had a buzzcut, but Ivy could tell that his hair would have been a thick dark mane if he let it grow out. His eyes were nearly transparent; they were that blue and he had thin lips pursed together in a casual frown. If it wasn’t for his clothes, she would have assumed he was in the military, but he was dressed too fashionably for that. Dark suit, starched white shirt, and a navy tie. His black coat looked tailored or at least more expensive than her entire wardrobe.
Suffice to say, compared to the previous customer with tattered clothing and a look that screamed alcoholic, this was a man who had his shit together.
And it left Ivy feeling all sorts of aroused and excited feelings inside.
“Grande Dark Roast, please,” he said in a voice that was deep and sizzled as it seeped into her system and for a few moments, Ivy had no idea what to do. She tried to collect herself, but damn did this man have an impact.
“Umm…yes, okay, anything else?” she said, fumbling with her words. This is one way to brighten up the work day. Bring in more men like this.
She had already said more than she usually did to any of her customers. The man must have noticed her flushed face and the look of discomfort about her because he allowed himself to grin slightly. It wasn’t anything overt, but she knew that he knew how she felt. And it made her sink even more.
“Nothing, thanks,” he said and that voice destabilized her again. What in the world is happening to me?!?
She felt her fingers shaking slightly as she typed in the order. From the corner of her eye, Ivy noticed the sparkling Rolex on his wrist as he slid his patent leather wallet out of his pants and flipped it open. It only reinforced her assumptions about how this man had himself together, but heavens, this was just overkill of the most pleasant kind!
It wasn’t very often that a stranger had this kind of an effect on Ivy, especially a man who looked like he was much older than her. She prided herself in how well she could keep herself in check from falling into bed with a random stranger… with anybody for that matter. No matter what sort of flattery men used, no matter how much alcohol he or she had consumed, and no matter how persuasive their arguments were, Ivy did not fool around. She may not have had her shit together, but she had her sexual and romantic life locked up and under control.
But the fact that she was even thinking these things in that very moment in front of a complete stranger—a customer, in fact—made Ivy flush a bright red. C’mon, Ivy! Stop!
The man handed her the cash, and she tried to concentrate on counting the change. But even then, she thought of how the change meant nothing to the man, and what that might’ve meant for him.
“Hey, you!” the voice of angry customer roared, breaking through the ambiance of the shop. “I ordered a Skinny. This is not a skinny!”
She whipped around to find the man, whose order she had taken a few minutes ago, waving his cup of coffee in the air. Ivy was noticing now that his eyes were bloodshot and he looked hungover, if not on drugs of some sort. This had gone from obnoxious to potentially dangerous.
“It’s all right sir, we’ll just make you another one,” one of Ivy’s coworkers, Shelly, who was making the coffees, said in her attempt to calm the man down.
Instead of listening to her, he charged towards Ivy again, thrusting the coffee towards her angrily. Ivy took two steps back, her eyes wide and her heart rushing in fear.
“Why can’t you people do your jobs right?” the man said in a high-pitched voice, spit coming from his lips and a vein bulging from his forehead. “I said Skinny, damnit!”
She tried to maintain her calm but wasn’t sure how to deal with this kind of aggression. She was trying to get the word “sorry” out of her system but she couldn’t, not when this man was glaring at her like that. She’d desperately wished she’d taken those karate classes she kept saying she would take. Management sure didn’t care to teach her self-defense in a spot like this.
“Did you hear me this time? Skinny!” the man repeated himself, leaning over the counter towards Ivy.
Then Ivy got an unexpected assist from someone she never anticipated stepping into the middle of her furious customer.
“Take it easy, man,” said the gorgeous stranger.
He had placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and was gently tugging him backward. Ivy watched in stunned fear. The man showed no fear at touching the crazed customer, which meant he was ei
ther naive beyond all hope or he had an impressive confidence in his ability to handle the situation.
Ivy got her answer quickly, and it made her emotions just swirl with delight.
The hungover guy whipped around and, trying to balance the coffee in one hand, took a lousy swing. Mr. Handsome avoided the weak, half-arced swing easily by stepping casually back in a manner that suggested he’d faced situations like this many times before. In a flash, he had snapped up the other man’s wrist and then twisted his arm to his back in a move that looked professional. The man yelped, his face reddened, and Ivy’s manager came running out of the kitchen.
“Gentlemen please, step outside, we cannot have this in here,” he was saying.
Ivy sensed her teeth biting down on her lip as she watched them. She had just lost the ability to speak, so stunned by what had happened that she had no words for it. The entirety of the coffee shop followed her lead, for they all watched, unable to pry their eyes away from the chaos of the drunk and the smooth skills of the calm man.
“He was being rude to your employees,” he said in that same voice, confident and collectively like nothing had happened. Oh please. You’re too much, Ivy thought.
“He attacked me!” the hungover guy said, the moment his arm was released. He looked like he had tears in his eyes, which almost caused Ivy to laugh.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not here to play the role of judge,” the manager said sternly and with an exasperated look in his eyes. “I have to ask you both to leave, I’m sorry, but that’s final.”
Ivy’s manager repeated himself and the men glared at each other before the hungover guy scampered off with his coffee in hand, sniffling.
Mr. Muscle threw Ivy a look, nodded his head at her once, smoothened the front of his shirt casually and then turned and walked out of the coffee shop without saying a word.
Ivy’s heart was thudding against her chest and her knees felt weak as she watched him leave. Had she really just witnessed a man dressed impeccably not only defend her, but take down a potential assailant with the ease that she would have in making a latte?
This was all too unreal for 8:30 a.m. on a Monday morning.
And on top of that, Ivy realized when she looked at Shelly, the man in the suit hadn’t even gotten his coffee.
Gotta do something good today.
“Excuse me!”
Ivy had followed the man out of the shop and was now running after him. It wasn’t until she had gotten close to him that he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her.
Ivy came to a sudden halt and nearly fell forward on him. She barely collected herself in time, and she knew she looked like a fool in the process. He had that same devious grin on his face as he looked at her, apparently amused at how much of a buffoon she was making of herself. He had his hands stuck deep in the pockets of his pants and was now proceeding to study her. Ivy knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it for when a man of this caliber and attractiveness had no shame in staring at her.
Still, he didn’t say a word. Ivy, feeling awkward, did something she rarely did in excess—she talked.
“I thought I’d bring you your coffee and personally thank you for what you did in there,” Ivy said, surprised at her own enthusiasm. “I hope you, uh, I hope you don’t mind.”
She was usually a woman of few words, and now her voice was just tumbling out of her from nervousness. Instead of replying, the man looked deep into her eyes, and then down at her heaving breasts, then slowly down past her belly to the spot between her legs. It was like he had no shame in just staring, in literally undressing her with his eyes.
Ivy felt self-conscious, mentally kicking herself for picking her oldest most uniform that day. She didn’t exactly feel sexy, even though he was looking at her like that. She hadn’t even bothered with much makeup that morning. His blue eyes sparkled as he drank her in, and then without a word, he reached for the styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand. It would’ve seemed rude from just about anyone else, but from this man, it just seemed to speak to a level of confidence that Ivy could only stand back and admire.
“I didn’t do anything, but thank you for bringing me the coffee,” he said and took a deliberate sip of it. “You’re the one who made me this delicious drink. Remind me, what was it that I ordered?”
Ivy knew full well the man knew what he had ordered and said this just to get her to look silly. But he seemed to enjoy it, which in turn caused her to enjoy it. She hated it, but she secretly loved it.
“Grande dark roast,” she said, and a small nervous laugh escaped her lips.
She clasped her hands together because she couldn’t think of anything else to say and also because she felt like she was melting with every second that he spent looking at her. She felt ridiculous, and it hadn’t even occurred to her that she had left the shop in the middle of her shift to hand deliver this product to this exiled man.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have lost my shit if you got my order wrong,” he said with a wink.
Ivy’s cheeks flushed as she laughed to try and dismiss the air around them, but the joke really did seem funny to her.
“I don’t always get my orders wrong,” she said. “I guess I need a coffee too. Mondays, huh?”
“Indeed,” he said plainly.
She smiled and looked around. Customers came and went from the shop. A few looked at them, the memory of what he’d done to the drunken or hungover man still vivid and fresh in all their minds. A few might even be waiting to see if more action enveloped. Ivy briefly considered the possibility of the incident going viral on social media, but the thought got rushed out of her mind by the sight of an empty cash register in the store.
What was she doing outside? Why was she still talking to him? Why did this man have this kind of grip upon her?
She couldn’t believe this was actually her. This was probably the boldest thing she had ever done. Which says a lot. I need to do more things.
Be more… risky, let’s say.
The man smiled a wide satisfied smile that spread over his face and reached his blue eyes. Ivy wanted to put her hands on that smile, just capture it, and take it home with her.
“Have a nice day, Ivy,” he said.
Her knees buckled. She rushed to remember if she had ever said her name to him. She hadn’t—how did she know?
It didn’t help that he must have noticed the shocked expression on her face, because he looked straight at her breasts and continued to smile. Once again, on just about any other man, Ivy would have given him a lesson in manners.
With him, though…
“You know you’re wearing a name tag, right?” he added.
Her cheeks turned ruddy again and she could feel the back of her neck burning up. Stupid, I wear that everyday! How could I not—I mean, others have said my name, I don’t care then. But now?
“Yeah, of course, it’s there to make us appear more approachable,” she said uselessly.
Ivy realized that by this point she was just talking for the sake of talking, which was so out of character for her she thought she’d transported to Saturday night somehow.
“It’s working,” he replied.
She couldn’t suppress her smile anymore. She was nauseous from how silly she must have appeared to him. And she didn’t care one bit. Not when this man had the smoothness of a fresh set of bed blankets and a presidential smile.
“I’m Travis Dunn,” he said and held out his hand to her.
Ivy’s brows crinkled for a moment, for she knew that name from somewhere, but she pushed that thought to the back of her head and shook his thick, tight hand.
When their bodies touched, she felt a sudden electric shock run down her spine. His hand was warm and big, enveloping her own small hand completely in his. He gave her one quick stern shake like he had just signed a peace treaty with a ruthless dictator. He was efficient, firm, and calm. He left no doubt who had the upper hand in their greeting.
“Zimmerman. That�
��s my name. No, I mean my name is Ivy but my last name is Zimmerman,” she said, fumbling with her words still, while Travis continued to grin.
“All right, Ivy Zimmerman,” he said, holding his coffee out in salute. Hearing her full name… oh Lord, what’s happening to me? “I hope you have a nice day.”
Just like that, he turned from her and walked away. He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t ask to stay in touch—and yet with the way he moved, he acted as if he would see her again. Why else would he have such an ease to him?
Ivy stood where she was, with dropped shoulders and a heavily beating heart as she watched him walking away. He weaved through the people, towering high above them with his face turned firmly forward. He didn’t turn once to look at her…and Ivy rolled her eyes. Why would he? A man like that wouldn’t look back on something. He probably always had his eyes forward.
But where had she heard his name? Travis Dunn… Dunn…
She looked toward the downtown skyline and suddenly, it clicked.
Travis Dunn wasn’t just a man.
He was the man in the city.
He was ex-military, having served in the Marines, and recently in the news for the huge waterfront project that he had signed with the city’s mayor. The man was a successful, high-level entrepreneur and one of the richest people under fifty in the country!
And he’d talked to her. No, not just talked to her. She dared to say that he’d even flirted with her. Oh, Travis Dunn.
She scanned her brains to try and recall if she had seen any pictures of him. The only one she could remember were the tabloid photos taken by paparazzi while he entered or left a nightclub. A skinny tall young blond on his arm. Just like the other guy’s coffee order. So not really my type. But still. Travis Dunn! Talking to me.
She heard someone call her name and she looked back. Her manager stood in the doorway, calling for her. She sighed. The dream of an actually enjoyable Monday had lasted only a few minutes, far too short.
Ivy turned and walked dejectedly back towards the shop. She had darted out of there with his coffee order in hand, without asking her manager for permission. She was pretty sure that she was in for a lecture, and to some extent, she couldn’t blame the manager one bit.
His Royal Majesty : A Royal Wedding Romance Page 29
