by Sloane West
Her comment seemed to only fuel his interest, and a devilish glint lit his eye. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m very good at what I do.”
Suddenly, she didn’t think they were talking about coffee anymore. “This is a great coffee shop,” she said, diverting his attention. “I’ve come in a few times, but I’ve never seen you.”
He leaned back, gazing around the building with obvious pride. “I’m usually sequestered away doing boring responsible stuff.”
She laughed. “Boring responsible stuff like running a business?”
He smirked. “Exactly.”
“I guess I got lucky you saw me in distress,” she said. It was a joke but also true. Five more minutes alone with Rylie and Beth might have pulled her hair out. And Rylie’s.
“I moonlight as a white knight,” he said.
“Impressive,” she laughed.
“One of my many talents.”
Snorting, she said, “I’m sure.”
“So, your date,” he began, studying her. “He really stood you up?”
She couldn’t help the sliver of embarrassment that slid into her. “It would seem so.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, his tone indicating he didn’t find it at all unfortunate.
“Not really,” she said with a half smile. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”
“Do I detect a hint of bitterness?”
Chagrined, she asked, “Why do you think I like coffee so much?”
He noted her coffee. “Nothing bitter about that sweetened concoction.”
“True,” she admitted. “Maybe I’m both. Bitter and sweet.”
“Aren’t we all.”
She raised her drink in a mock toast. “To bittersweetness.”
He didn’t have one of his own, so he fist-bumped her instead. “To bittersweetness.”
Realizing the lackluster day had been partially spit-shined, she decided she was grateful for her blind date’s failure to thrive. Oh, she fully intended to murder Julia and Anusha for getting her into this mess to begin with, but she also couldn’t wait to tell them about her fortuitous meet-cute with a handsome coffee shop owner. Not that anything could come of it. No, she’d had enough of the dating scene—or, rather, the barren wasteland—to last her for a while. Maybe forever. She could still appreciate Alex Buchanan, though.
“So, how long have you been in business?” she asked.
He caught the eye of a barista and nodded before glancing back at Beth. “About five years. I opened it with my sister.”
Beth wondered if his sister was as stunning as he was. She’d always wanted a sibling herself, but her parents had never granted her wish. It was why she was so thankful for her besties. Julia had been by her side since second grade, and Anusha had been stuck to Beth like glue since college. The three of them were like pancakes, waffles, and crepes—made of the same stuff yet deliciously different. “You’re partners?”
Sadness tinted his smile. “We were. She was killed in a car accident two years ago.”
Beth’s stomach dropped. “God, you must miss her.”
“Every day,” he admitted and then chuckled. “She was the brains behind the operation. I just brewed the coffee.”
Beth smiled and resisted the urge to touch his hand. “This place is really charming. I’m sure she’d be very proud.” It was true. The coffee shop was a local favorite and had been featured in the Barneville Gazette more than once for its outstanding coffees and modern style. In fact, Beth was surprised she herself didn’t come here more often. The airy, open space and industrial-chic décor were right up her alley. She vowed to stop in on a more regular basis. She loved supporting small businesses. It had nothing to do with said small business’s owner, of course.
Of course.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think she would be.”
The barista he’d signaled earlier approached with a mug and handed it to Alex. “The house blend.”
“Thanks, Chelsea,” he told the young woman.
Chelsea, a petite blonde who looked no older than seventeen glanced between Alex and Beth, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
Beth realized the girl thought they were a couple. If Beth corrected her, she would only add awkwardness to an already-awkward situation. Instead, she smiled. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Chelsea’s obvious glee didn’t wane. She gave Beth and Alex twin smiles before hurrying off.
Chuckling, Alex drank what appeared to be black coffee.
Feeling inexplicably embarrassed, Beth eyed his mug. “You own a coffee shop and drink plain old black coffee?”
He grinned. “Good coffee is like a good steak. It doesn’t need anything else.”
She looked down at her sweetened caffeine potion and laughed. “And I prefer my A.1. with a hint of steak.”
He cringed. “I should have let the vulture get you.”
Laughing, she sipped her doctored brew. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll finish feasting on my carcass Saturday.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “High school reunion.”
She groaned. “How did you know?”
“I saw it in the local paper. What year?”
“Tenth.”
He laughed into his coffee. “You don’t sound enthused.”
“No, I am. It’s just . . .” She glanced at the vultures’ table and exhaled. “Let’s just say I don’t want to reconnect with everyone.”
“Are you saying you weren’t BFFs with Queen Bee over there?”
Beth laughed. “Hardly. More like the opposite.”
Shrugging, he said, “Don’t let her stop you. I went to mine and had a blast.”
She snorted. “Of course you did. What were you? Captain of the football team?”
He feigned offense. “I’ll have you know I was the valedictorian and the president of the math club.”
Twice now, she’d said the worst possible thing. “Really?”
He grinned. “No.”
If she’d had a towel, she would have swatted him with it. “I knew it.”
“I wasn’t a football team captain, though,” he pointed out.
“No?”
“I was a pitcher. Baseball.”
She laughed and shook her head, ignoring the image of him in a baseball uniform that swam to the surface of her mind. “Thanks for saving me earlier. Really. That was a sandwich of awkward with an extra slice of awkward.”
“Anytime,” he said as if he rescued people from uncomfortable conversations every day. “So, when am I picking you up Saturday?”
She blinked, her heart tripping over its shoelaces. “What?”
“You need a date, don’t you?”
She started to reply but then remembered that she had told Rylie she was bringing someone. Still, his offer had pity date written all over it, and she wasn’t that desperate. Yet. “That’s not necessary,” she said finally. “But thank you.”
His eyebrows arched ever so slightly as if she had issued him a challenge. A challenge he accepted. “I’m free,” he said. “You’re obviously free. Use me.”
Her face warmed. “What are you? A napkin?”
His mouth curved on one corner. Just enough to make him look dangerous. His gaze lingered on her lips. “I’ll be your napkin.”
Beth suddenly found it hard to breathe, but she ignored the sensation. Even if today hadn’t soured her on dating, she couldn’t stomach going out with someone who had been with Rylie. Behind her husband’s back, no less. Even as she thought it, she reminded herself that she was jumping to conclusions again. Just because Alex seemed to know Rylie’s breasts were faker than her Facebook posts didn’t necessarily mean they’d had a romantic relationship. Still, even the possibility left a bad taste in Beth’s mouth. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
The rejection didn’t seem to offend him, and he studied her with mild amusement. After a moment, he said, “Okay, how about we make a deal.
Hire me to be your date. No strings. A mutually beneficial business transaction.”
If she had been drinking her coffee, she would have choked on it. Instead, she let out a bewildered laugh. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.”
Somehow, she doubted that. Going by the mischievous play on his lips, he found the entire ordeal anything but serious. “Let me get this straight. You want me to hire you?”
“Why not?” he asked. “This way, we both get what we want.”
The idea was so preposterous she didn’t know where to begin. Should she be offended? Or flattered? Or both? On the one hand, it seemed taboo and, frankly, embarrassing. But, on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel complimented that he seemed so determined to change her mind. “What do you get out of this business deal?”
“You,” he said simply.
She laughed. He was crazy. And she was crazy for even considering it. The idea of paying for a date just to impress Rylie and her gang members was ludicrous. But, at the same time, it wasn’t a bad deal. For a price, Beth could attend the reunion with a smolderingly handsome man while also maintaining her boyfriend-free status. Even if money exchanged hands, she gathered that Alex had intentions of wooing her, but she could totally ignore his advances. After all, she was a strong, independent woman, and she wouldn’t be swayed by blue eyes and a sinful mouth. She could get what she needed and then never have to see him again.
“How much?” she asked.
He leaned forward, a triumphant twinkle in his eye. “A hundred bucks.”
Her eyebrows jumped. “Good God, that’s highway robbery.”
He laughed. “What can I say? I don’t come cheap.”
“Obviously.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll even throw in free espressos for life.”
“I don’t drink espresso.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried my espresso.”
She eyed him, comparing the situation to a flea-market haggle. Finally, she sighed. “It’s a deal.”
He grinned and held out a hand. “You should know I have a no-return policy.”
“That doesn’t sound like great customer service.”
His grin turned devious. “Maybe you should take that up with the manager.”
She studied him. “This is, without a doubt, the strangest date I’ve ever been on.”
He took a drink of coffee. “Could be worse.”
She thought about the various ways her original blind date could have gone wrong and had to agree. “You have a point.”
He chuckled and then eyed the counter where a line was forming. “Duty calls. Where and when do I pick you up Saturday?”
All at once, she was a sixteen-year-old girl going on her first date. What universe had she stepped into that she was making plans with a man like Alex Buchanan? “At the library,” she managed. “At six.”
He arched an eyebrow that looked positively scandalous. “Oh hell, are you a naughty librarian?”
Despite having heard the joke a gazillion and a half times before, coming from him, it made her blush. Which was ridiculous. The last time she’d blushed this much was when she’d kissed Tommy Stuart under the bleachers in seventh grade. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” she said, proud of how aloof she sounded. “More of a knuckle-cracking, late-fee-collecting librarian.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t tolerate nonsense, but she was lenient when it came to overdue fees. Not that he needed to know that.
He laughed. “I find myself strangely turned on by that.”
She blushed again. “Who knew coffee shop owners were so shameless?”
He dazzled her with a smile. “You have no idea.” Rising, he picked up his mug. “See you on Saturday?”
“By all means,” she said and immediately realized that made no sense whatsoever.
He only laughed again and walked away.
She stared after him, both flummoxed and nervous. And excited. What had she gotten herself into? She was hiking into uncharted territory here. She wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. She didn’t play over-the-top games. She didn’t flirt with tall, gorgeous, dangerously charming guys. She was practical and sensible and happily boring.
Which is why you’re still single, she reminded herself.
Groaning, she gathered her things. For some reason, she had the feeling she’d just opened a door she’d never be able to close.
2
“What do you think?”
Beth’s two best friends assessed her outfit with exaggerated seriousness.
“Turn around,” Julia said through the computer screen, her hazel eyes brooking no argument.
Sighing, Beth obeyed.
“Your ass looks phenomenal,” Julia said.
“He’s toast,” Anusha agreed.
“I don’t care if he’s the untoasted heel of a loaf of white bread, I’m not wearing it for him,” Beth said, smoothing the spring-leaf green dress. The color matched her pale complexion and auburn hair perfectly. And, yeah, her ass didn’t look half bad in it, either.
Anusha laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She gave Beth a flat look. “Honey, you don’t wear a dress like that unless you’re trying to impress a man.”
Beth glared at her friends and was tempted to close the laptop just to avoid their knowing gazes. “I told you. This isn’t a real date. I’m paying him, for crying out loud.”
Julia and Anusha, who were attending a romance novel convention a hundred miles away, rolled their eyes in unison. As butterflies fluttered in Beth’s stomach, she regretted not joining them. What had she been thinking? Meeting authors and adding to her collection of signed books seemed far more desirable than a night of rubbing elbows with her fellow alumni.
The convention doesn’t have Alex Buchanan, her inner troublemaker pointed out.
“And neither do I,” she said aloud.
Anusha’s dark brows lifted in amusement. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Beth said, wondering if she should wear the blue dress instead. It didn’t hug her curves nearly as affectionately as the green one. Were cleavage and oh-so-clingy fabric really the right message to send on a non-date? And maybe she should put her hair up. As soon as she thought it, though, an image of a sexy librarian with a sensual updo came to mind, and she discarded the idea. No, that was definitely not a thought she wanted in Alex’s head tonight.
“Why are you blushing?” Anusha asked.
“I’m not,” Beth said, adjusting a nonexistent flyaway.
Julia eyed her in a way that said she knew exactly what Beth was thinking. “If you change your dress, I swear I will crawl through this screen and cut you. I will literally cut you.”
The bad thing about being friends with someone as long as the three of them had been was that they knew each other almost better than they knew themselves. Which was great—unless you were trying to be sneaky. Not that Beth had any reason to be sneaky. If she wanted to change her dress, she damn well would. Then again, knowing Julia, she would, in fact, crawl through the screen. Beth sighed. “I don’t need to look sexy for him.”
“No,” Julia agreed. “You need to look sexy for yourself. Have some fun. Let your hair down. You’re not at the library tonight.”
Beth gave her a dry look and indicated her long auburn hair which lay around her shoulders in loose waves. “My hair is down.”
“Bitch, you know what I mean.”
Anusha, who was ever the sweet to Julia’s salty, laughed. “She’s right, Bethy. You need to live a little.”
“I live,” Beth insisted. “A lot. Every day, in fact. It’s a product of breathing.”
When they remained skeptical, she sighed again. “Okay, so maybe I’m not a party girl.”
“The only party you’ve attended in the last year was my six-year-old niece’s birthday,” Julia said.
“There was that painting party last month,” Anusha supplied helpfully. �
�When we painted and drank wine.”
“That doesn’t count,” Julia said.
Beth remembered the party. She, Julia, and Anusha had attempted to paint a picnic scene along with the rest of the class. They’d ended up doing more laughing and drinking than actual painting. Anusha was the only one to produce a passable picnic. Julia’s looked like a drunken mime had painted it, and Beth’s had resembled a child’s first attempt at finger-painting.