Adventures in Online Dating

by Julie Particka

  “I talked to Brendan, and he’s more than willing to watch his brothers for an hour in exchange for an extra thirty minutes of reading time before light’s out at night. I’d been debating giving in on that anyway, so it’s a win all around.” She tied the apron behind her back and turned, only to find herself standing toe-to-toe with the too-sexy, too-young-for-her café owner. Her breath caught, and it was all she could do to resist reaching out to steady herself on his firm chest.

  Marshall frowned down at her, but the expression softened with every second. “A win for you, too?”

  His voice had been quieter than normal. Here, away from the noise of the café, it was like they were in a world all their own, where volume wasn’t necessary. They stood so close, his breath mingled with hers. Mint, from the gum he always chewed. She could almost taste it, and the sensation was so heady, she wanted to take a step back, but there was nowhere to go. Closing her eyes so she wasn’t staring into the depth of his baby blues, too, she swallowed whatever words were trying desperately to come out of her mouth—the ones that sounded far too much like “spending time with you sounds like a win”—and said, “Just fulfilling my end of our bargain. Besides, based on Friday, there’s also the tips to consider.”

  “You’re not kidding?”

  She didn’t have much choice other than to open her eyes. Keeping them shut would make her look like an idiot—or worse, like Peyton was right and she had some sort of older-woman crush on him. Which was one thing she most definitely didn’t intend to blurt out, regardless of the fact she had to admit she enjoyed spending time with him. Their conversations were the ones she thought about when she got home—not her dates. She tried not to think too hard on it and just embrace it like he’d suggested, but confessing to it wasn’t an option. Not now, maybe not ever. She swallowed hard and gave him a smile. “Completely serious. I’m here to help as promised.”

  For a long moment, he stood there, doing nothing but staring at her in a way that had her wondering once again if Peyton was right. All she had to do was reach up and touch those washboard abs, let her fingers trip up to the firm chest she’d felt pressed to her back only a week ago. The one she’d felt again in her dream. Her fingers twitched and inched upward.

  Damn it to hell and back—part of her did want him. There was no denying it, but she could deny herself. She had to if she didn’t want to run the risk of losing her favorite coffee joint.

  “Okay.” He stepped away, breaking whatever spell held them in place. “But you get a free muffin, too. Take it home to Brendan for babysitting if you don’t want to eat it. We need to move, though, so I can get you and Claudette organized.”

  Turning, he strode back to the front of the café, and just like that, Alexa snapped back to reality. Why was it this happened every time they were alone? She couldn’t seriously be interested in someone young and impulsive like Marshall. It had to be pheromones or something. Just sexual attraction like Peyton suggested. Even though she was done having kids, she wasn’t immune to the chemical signals designed by evolution to draw a woman to a man. He simply exuded more of them than most men she knew. As long as there was some distance between them, she’d keep her head just fine.

  …

  Yesterday’s turn of events had been more than a little surprising. Sure, he and Alexa had worked well last Friday when she’d stepped in, but he’d never in a million years expected her to become a daily feature behind the counter.

  There’d been a few minutes of chaos as she and Claudette ran into each other. But they worked it out with Alexa handling the basics, leaving Claudette to focus on her coffee artistry.

  Now, after another failed day of speed dating, she was behind the counter again, and things were running so smoothly, it gave Marshall time to breathe and notice little changes. To-go cups didn’t just have names on them. They had little messages.

  Have a great day!

  Cute shoes!

  GO LIONS!

  As the rush died on Tuesday, he confronted Alexa. “What’s the deal with the notes on the to-go cups? We could move the line faster without them.”

  “Is the line moving slower than it used to?” She smiled at him—lips still closed, but somehow the expression was fuller, livelier.

  “No. You know it isn’t.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  It wasn’t a problem, exactly, but as much as he embraced change, he didn’t like being kept in the dark. “Humor me?”

  She let a laugh fly, and the smile was there. Real. Toothy. Perfect. And fleeting. “People like the personal touch, even if it’s as minor as those notes. While these are mostly regular customers already, adding the personal touch can increase the prospect of long-term customer retention by twenty-five percent. So even once someone opens a shiny new café down the street, those kids are likely to remember the stupid notes, and it’ll encourage some of them to come back here regardless of the new, flashy place.”

  As she untied her apron and hung it up in the backroom, her gaze traveled over him from head to toe. She pressed her lips together, as if she were tasting them. Was she undressing him with her eyes? “Nice shirt, by the way.”

  Then she grabbed her things and was gone, leaving him standing there, stunned to silence.

  He came to his senses when he heard the door chime. It had only been Alexa leaving, but he was back to the front in time to watch her walk away. She’d done that on purpose. Thrown him off and then left him there to figure out what, if anything, her words meant. Because it sure as hell wasn’t an actual compliment on his shirt. She hated his geeky stuff, and it didn’t get much more geeky than his rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock shirt. No, she was trying to fluster him.

  Okay. Two can play this game.

  All night long, he lay awake, thinking about her. He tried to focus on how he could throw her off-balance, too, but instead, his thoughts would drift to their brief moments alone. The times they stood too close, touched too long. The times he considered throwing caution into a damn hurricane and just kissing her.

  By Wednesday morning, he had no good answer and an epic hard-on. Taking care of the latter wouldn’t be a problem, and he cast a glance at the stack of business cards and scraps of paper on his desk. Chastity’s latest note was right there on top. He’d been so busy the past several weeks, he hadn’t called any of the women who had given him their numbers.

  Until the café was more solid than it had been, work took precedence over getting his dick wet—no matter how long it had been. Besides, he’d learned the hard way that most of the women who approached him for casual sex were looking for anything but. He didn’t have time for a relationship, especially with someone who would be all about him sacrificing time at the Bean Counter for time with them.

  Though, maybe this weekend he’d give one of them a call anyway. Alexa had made it clear she wasn’t interested in him, even after he took her test and everything. And the longer he went without sex, the more he was going to think about taking a chance that could ruin whatever friendship they seemed to be building.

  Besides, I need the extra hands during rush.

  He went to the Bean Counter with that thought foremost in his mind. Money wasn’t his primary driver in life, but if he didn’t make the business profitable, it would end up becoming just that. All through the morning, he was able to maintain focus without a problem. Then Alexa came in, a breath of fresh air in a pale, sheer blue skirt that flirted around her knees as she walked. When he looked up to meet her eyes, she gave him a new smile. Lips barely parted, cheeks full, eyes shifting shyly away from his.

  Fuck. There was the fucking hard-on again.

  He was damn glad she took her own coffee to the table, because he needed the protection provided by the counter. Then, about two minutes later, her first date strode in, and all thoughts of getting Alexa alone vanished. The guy was about six-two with the easy grin and good looks of George Clooney in Ocean’s 11. He wore a suit that clearly hadn’t come fresh off the
rack, and he tipped at 50 percent. Money, and a willingness to share it.

  Let it go, dude. She knows what she wants, and it’s not you, because you don’t want those same things.

  But this date was still gone after his twenty minutes, and so were the other three. Alexa stayed true to form, typing up notes after each one. And when she came behind the counter at two fifty, she didn’t seem different than yesterday, or any day he’d stopped by her table to talk before she left.

  With a brief break before the rush hit, Marshall followed her to the storeroom. “So, I guess today didn’t go well, either?”

  She paused, blinking, as if it were a strange question. At this point, he figured it would have been weirder for him not to ask. “It was fine.”

  Considering she was helping out at rush again, he knew the answer, but he had to be sure. “Any prospects?” As soon as he asked, he wanted to kick himself. He sounded jealous. Fuck.

  “Maybe. I’m really not sure, so I’m counting it as me losing until I make a decision.”

  That took him aback. “You actually do not sure?”

  “Upon occasion.” She finished tying her apron and slid her feet into a pair of flats. “I had a couple today who didn’t get an automatic no.”

  That was…not what he wanted to hear, regardless of how much he expected it after seeing not-Clooney. “But not an automatic yes?”

  She gave a little chuckle, but it wasn’t actual joy, there was no smile with it. “Right now, I want to put some thought into things, because I might be reaching the point after thirty-some men where I’m saying okay to things I wouldn’t normally.”

  Part of him wanted to ask what she meant, but the bigger—and smarter—part of him really didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss and all that crap. “You ready to get to work?”

  “Definitely.” At that, she did smile. Only a split second, but he saw it.

  Damn. That smile was almost enough to erase thoughts of not-Clooney and whoever else had made it past her initial filters. By the time they reached the register, the door was already opening with teenagers rushing in, and there was no more time to worry about Alexa and her dates.

  Today, in addition to the notes for the people leaving with their orders, Alexa had instituted another change. Every time someone ordered a jumbo mug, it was served with a chocolate-covered coffee bean in a condiment cup.

  When the rush finally lulled, he broke down and asked her about the newest change. “You know those beans cost money, and so do the cups. I thought you were all about profit margins.”

  She shrugged and then rolled her shoulders as if they ached. “I did some research last night. Sixty-eight percent of coffee drinkers also enjoy chocolate-covered espresso beans. By adding one to only the jumbo mugs, it’ll encourage people to order that size, increasing your profit margins on coffees ordered in by roughly fifteen percent, even accounting for the cost of the bean and cup. Though, I would suggest for the sake of aesthetics that you invest in some little two- to three-inch doilies. They’d be more decorative, which would make the entire thing look more high-class and less fast-food.”

  She untied her apron and hung it up before bending to gather her things from the locker she seemed to have taken as her own.

  For once, he wasn’t busy checking out her ass. “You…researched that? On your own? For me?”

  Another shrug.

  “Of course. Can’t have my favorite coffee joint going out of business.” She brushed past him then cast a glance back. “By the way, you look nice in gray. Not a lot of people can pull that off.”

  He glanced down at his Thor T-shirt before realizing she’d done it again. She’d managed to throw him off and walk out. Two days in a row?

  It was intentional.

  As much as he wanted to know her reasoning, he was almost more interested in the changes she was making. Tomorrow, they went into effect full time, not just for rush. If she was right…

  No. For now, he was just keeping an eye on things financially. The numbers, as she would say, would tell him everything.

  Then he could worry about figuring out why she was so intent on putting distance between them. Not to mention discovering a way to erase that distance without chasing her away completely.

  Chapter Seven

  It had been almost two weeks now of Alexa not making any second dates and subsequently helping out during the Bean Counter’s mid-day rush hour. Every single day, she came home with aching feet and muscles complaining over the sudden change in use. But without hesitation, she went right back the next day, less worried about finding Mr. Right than doing work that left her satisfied at the end of the day. There was no question—doing something as simple as helping make coffees for an hour changed her entire demeanor.

  And the kids weren’t the only ones who noticed.

  She’d invited Peyton over for a mid-week dinner since Nana had Peyton’s two girls, and the instant her friend walked into the kitchen, she slid onto a barstool and said, “Something’s different.”

  Alexa handed her friend a drink and glanced around, wondering if the boys had done something and she’d missed it. But no, the granite still shone and the cherry cabinets gleamed. They’d even done a remarkable job polishing the stainless steel appliances in preparation for company. Come to think of it, that was a little different. Normally, she had to beg them to get any help. But nothing was actually amiss.

  “Okay, I give. What are you seeing that I’m not?” She stirred the sauce, bringing it almost to a boil, but never letting it get that far. Piping hot, but not singed.

  “You.”

  Alexa paused in her stirring to gape at her friend. Had she forgotten to brush her hair? No, she was sure she’d done that. Did she have coffee stains on her skirt? Could Peyton even see her skirt from the other side of the massive kitchen island? “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing is wrong. You just look ridiculously happy.” Peyton sipped her drink then nearly spewed it all over the counter. “Oh my God. You slept with Marshall.”

  Thankfully, her voice had been low enough the boys wouldn’t have heard. “No. I did not. Is everything sex with you?”

  “No. Only most things.” She picked up her lemon drop martini again and took a sip. “But if it’s not that, what is it? Because this is an amazing change.”

  Alexa didn’t buy that things were as extreme as Peyton and Brendan were making them out to be. Sure, she was sleeping better than she had in years. And it seemed as if it was getting easier to compartmentalize work, dating, and family time. Those things alone were destined to make her more relaxed and happy. But it wasn’t as if she’d gone out and dyed her hair pink or something. “I smile a little more and that’s some amazing transformation?”

  “Yes.” Peyton said it plain. Just the one word. It would have felt like a slap had it come from anyone else. “The amount of stress you put yourself under on a daily basis has always weighed on you. Now, it seems to have vanished. If I’m really honest, amazing doesn’t fucking cut it. So what’s going on?”

  There was no harm in telling her, so Alexa explained everything. “And I’ve been doing some off-the-books consulting for him. I have to assume he’s liked my ideas, because other servers have started implementing the changes I suggested.”

  “Uh-huh.” Peyton took the world’s slowest drink.

  The sauce was done, and Alexa would have to call the boys in soon. “What aren’t you saying that you want to say?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

  “Peyton, if you’re going to force me to bring statistics into it, one hundred percent of the time you use a drink to avoid elaborating on a topic, it’s because you think what you have to say won’t go over well. I highly doubt this is the time that changes the trend.” She poured the sauce into a bowl and pulled the noodles out of the warmer.

  Peyton grabbed the garlic bread and freshly grated Parmesan. “It’s only that you’re putting an awful lot of energy into the one relatio
nship you keep insisting doesn’t exist.”

  “He’s a friend. I’m helping him just like I’d help you if you needed it.” With everything on the table, their time for girls-only talk was over. “Boys, dinner!”

  But Peyton wasn’t having any of it. Now that Alexa had opened the floodgates, she let everything pour through. “The only problem is, you miraculously haven’t found a single man you’re interested in spending more time with in the hours you linger at the Bean Counter. The only exception to that is Marshall, whom you have gone out of your way to get more up close and personal with—and that’s the part of your day that is making you glow like a freaking pregnant woman.”

  “I am not!”

  Just then the boys rounded into the kitchen, a trio of dark-haired joys in sizes small, medium, and large. “You aren’t what, Mom?” Brendan asked.

  “Nothing.”

  At the exact same moment, Peyton said, “She’s glowing. Like blissfully happy glowing.”

  Alexa glared at her, but Beau piped up. “You kind of are, Mom.”

  Nine years old, and too observant by half. Of course, it didn’t help that Brendan was standing there nodding in agreement. He’d said as much after that first day when Claudette had called in sick. Everyone saw it but her, but could what Peyton said about Marshall…

  No. Nothing had changed. He still wore goofy graphic tees and those purple shoes and ran his business by the seat of his pants. That wasn’t something that fit in her carefully structured life. “Then I guess I better keep working at the café, huh? Wouldn’t want to lose our muffin dealer.”

  After that, every time Peyton tried to bring the conversation back to the coffee shop, Alexa deflected, asking the boys about school. Blake regaled them with a lengthy story about kindergarten and the kid who found a garter snake and released it in the lunchroom. That was good to keep everyone occupied through dessert.

  Next time, Alexa was having Peyton bring the girls—at least they’d be a guaranteed distraction.

  At the door, saying good night, Peyton hugged her. “You know we aren’t done talking about this. I genuinely think he might be good for you.”