Sweetheart (The Busy Bean)

by Sarah Mayberry

  The reality was that we were always going to be one and done, never to be repeated. It was the only way it could ever be between us.

  A car pulled out of a side road ahead of me, forcing me to brake to avoid a close encounter with his rear fender. I punched the horn, holding it down to get my message across, hot anger spiking through me. Finally the driver lifted a sheepish hand, apologizing for his dickishness.

  “Asshole.”

  It wasn’t until the car had turned off and the red haze had faded from my vision that I felt stupid for my over-reaction. Sure, the driver had misjudged his timing, but I’d had plenty of room to brake. I drove a few more miles before I grudgingly admitted to myself that there was a decent chance my outrage had been triggered by something other than bad driving.

  I liked Haley. I liked her a lot. Obviously, the fact we had highly combustible sexual chemistry was part of that, but I’d seen enough of her during our brief encounters at the Bean to know she was also sweet and smart. I wanted to know more about her. Under any other circumstances, I would be doing my utmost to make sure this afternoon was not a one-off.

  But the circumstances were what they were. Her sister was always going to be my toxic ex, and that was always going to be a dealbreaker for me.

  There was nowhere else to go in the debate in my head, so I reached across to turn on the radio, cranking the volume high as an old AC/DC song came on. Then I let the raucous rock fill my head, pushing everything else out.

  There was no point angsting over what couldn’t be changed. Life had taught me that in spades, and it was time to start acting like I knew it.

  20

  Haley

  My mother’s most frequently used piece of advice had always been to sleep on it, her theory being that everything seemed better in the morning. I banked hard on her being right when I finally fell asleep Thursday night, but when I woke Friday morning, the memory of the previous day descended on me like a ton of bricks.

  Sleep hadn’t given me perspective, it had simply tripled my regrets about bringing up my sister. It had been super gauche and weird and wrong, and it had killed the good vibes utterly. No wonder Beck had been in such a hurry to go—I’d practically pushed him out the door with my bleating about not telling anyone and name-checking my sister.

  I squirmed against the sheets, mortified by the memory. But regret was not going to get me ready for work, so I threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. I showered and dressed and ran a comb through my wet hair, glaring at myself in the bathroom mirror as I did so.

  I was such a loser dork. Who gets the hottie of their dreams in their bed and then brings up their gorgeous sister? Who does that?

  After grabbing my bag, I headed out the door and trudged down the hill to the Bean. The only silver lining I could find in the day ahead was that it was a Friday, and I wouldn’t have to deal with a Beck delivery until Monday. Which meant I had three days to find a way to smooth over what had happened between us.

  Plenty of time, right?

  As luck would have it, the Bean was unusually quiet all morning, offering me plenty of opportunity to dwell on my poor post-sex game. My thoughts kept bouncing from flush-inducing erotic flashbacks to the cringe-inducing memory of my anxious blurt, and by the time I clocked off, I was no closer to finding a genius way to make things right with Beck.

  Roddy must have sensed my low mood because he handed me a take-home bag on the way out the door.

  “Here you go, Hales. You look like you need some carbs to cheer you up.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I asked.

  “Only to everyone.”

  I must have look stricken because he patted my arm reassuringly.

  “That was a joke. You just seemed a bit flat, that’s all.”

  “I’m suffering from a self-inflicted wound,” I semi-confessed.

  “Ah. The worst kind.” He patted my arm again before going to check something on the stove.

  I peeked inside the bag and spied a brownie, a blueberry bagel, and a giant chocolate chip cookie. I’ve mentioned how much I love my job, right?

  I nibbled on the cookie during the walk home then changed into an old tank and reached for my cutoffs. I was looking forward to losing myself in some work and silencing all the chatter in my head, but as I stepped into my paint-splattered cutoffs, I remembered the way Beck had pulled them off me yesterday, all haste and no finesse.

  If someone had told me I’d manage to seduce my long-time crush while wearing the shabbiest piece of clothing I owned, I would have laughed in their face. But Beck hadn’t cared about my work clothes, or my unshaved legs or my non-flat belly. He’d wanted me. Just me.

  And you messed it up, dumb-dumb.

  I turned away from the thought and headed for my workshop. As I entered the space, my gaze fell on my sketch pad. Not stopping to think, I snatched it up, flicking through the pages until I found what I was looking for.

  The masked horse I’d drawn for Beck stared up at me, bold and charming and attention-grabbing. I studied it intently for a moment, my brain racing furiously. Then I tore it free from the book and propped it against my work lamp. For the next few minutes, I concentrated on recreating the horse with a crisp black marker, perfecting the lines and shadows.

  When I was done, the horse was even better than before, his lines bold and strong. Perfect for a logo.

  Or a peace offering.

  I grabbed a couple of pieces of white posterboard and secured the sketch within them, taping the sides to keep it safe. Then I raced to my bedroom and flung open the closet door. I’m not a huge shopper, so there wasn’t a lot to choose from. I opted for a blue and white gingham sundress, tossing it on the bed before whipping off my tank top and cutoffs. Five minutes later, I was pulling the front door closed behind me, my mouth freshly lipsticked, my body spritzed with perfume, my dress swishing around my legs.

  This is probably a really stupid idea, you know that, right?

  The thing was, I was beyond caring. This whole situation with Beck had been so intense and messy from day one, and even though that had mostly been his fault—and maybe my sister’s—this recent bout of messiness was on me, and I couldn’t just leave things the way they were.

  I just couldn’t.

  So I white-knuckled it all the way to Montpelier and parked in what was becoming my usual spot in front of the Dark Horse barn. Then I grabbed my peace offering, took a deep breath, and went to see a man about a horse logo.

  21

  Beck

  “We actually developed our Black Stallion Blend especially for cold drip. We can drop off a sample bag with your next order if you’d like to experiment a little.” I swiveled my chair so I could reach the block of sticky notes next to my laptop.

  “That sounds great, thanks Daniel. Gotta say, we’ve been patting ourselves on the back for saying yes to you boys and your wonder beans. Our customers can’t rave enough.”

  I smiled to myself, because this particular customer had been a very hard nut to crack. Sam had worked him like a pro before he’d agreed to a trial run with our beans—and now he was considering adding a cold drip to his lineup.

  “Great to hear. We’ll see you next week with the sample beans,” I said.

  We said our goodbyes and I ended the call, grabbing a pen to scribble out a note to myself. I’d add it to the app we used to organize our orders later, and it would pop up as a reminder when we put together the next delivery for this customer.

  I stuck the note next to a couple of earlier ones, both of which still needed to be dealt with. I was just picking up my phone to tackle another when my brother cleared his throat behind me.

  “Danny. Someone to see you,” he said.

  I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see a customer or a friend. Instead I saw Haley, a nervous smile on her lips, her eyes uncertain.

  “Hi.”

  I jerked my feet off the corner of my desk, my boots hitting the floor with a loud thump as I sprang to my feet.
“Hi.”

  “Have you got a minute?” she asked.

  She was wearing a sundress, the old-fashioned type like you’d see on a Happy Days rerun, and her lips were shaded a pretty pink. She was also carrying a large piece of white posterboard.

  Interesting.

  “Sure. Come in.”

  “I’m not interrupting? I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got delivery runs or something.”

  “Sam’s handling the afternoon runs,” I said.

  My brother raised his eyebrows but didn’t contradict me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind, however, that he’d claim his pound of flesh for covering for me later.

  “Oh. Good,” Haley said, stepping forward.

  I shifted a pile of paperwork off the spare chair, gesturing for her to sit.

  “This won’t take long,” she assured me, remaining standing.

  I registered my brother was still hovering in the doorway, unashamed interest on his face. I frowned at him, and he rolled his eyes before turning away.

  “I wanted to apologize,” Haley blurted the moment he was out of sight. “I meant it when I said I had a really good time yesterday, but then I made it weird by bringing up my sister, and you left, and it felt all wrong. I know things are too complicated for you and me to, you know, have anything more, but I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

  It was quite a speech, and by the time she was finished, her cheeks were a pretty pink. It made me remember how flushed she’d been after I’d made her come the first time. And all the times after that.

  “I could have handled it better.” It seemed only fair to own my part. “It’s not like Jess being your sister was a big surprise to me.”

  “I know, but it was kind of a buzz kill. Not the best timing in the world.”

  She wrinkled her nose, somehow managing to look both cute and sexy at the same time, and all of a sudden I couldn’t remember why pursuing something more with her was a bad idea.

  “Anyway, I made you something. I noticed you were deciding on logos the other week, and you’ve probably chosen something already, so don’t feel obligated to use this or anything. It was just an idea I had, so I sketched it out...” She offered me the posterboard, and I saw that it was actually two pieces that had been taped together, presumably to protect something.

  “You made a logo for me?” I repeated stupidly, because this conversation was not going the way I had expected it to.

  “Sometimes the only way to get an idea out of my head is to sketch it out.”

  I took the offering and severed the tape with my thumbnail to reveal a bold, quirky sketch of a horse’s head and shoulders drawn in black marker. The horse’s mane was blowing in the wind like a model’s hair, and he was wearing a black superhero mask. There was something about the way he’d been drawn, the energy of the piece, that made me laugh. I looked at Haley, blown away by the charm and originality of her work.

  “This is awesome. Sam and I have been banging our heads against the wall, trying to find something that feels right for Dark Horse, and this is... Man, you’ve really nailed it.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” She moved closer so she could study the sketch with me. “I tried to keep the lines simple so you could use it in lots of different ways. A good graphic designer would know what to do with it. Kieran Shipley would be a great person to talk to.”

  “Kieran. Right. I always forget he’s into graphic design.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Haley’s sketch. Sam and I had spent hours combing various stock-art sites looking at horse images, and we hadn’t found a single one that jumped out the way Haley’s did. It was fun, it had attitude, and it was memorable. Tick, tick, tick.

  “Sam’s going to flip his lid when he sees this.” I tore my focus from the sketch to look at her. “What do we owe you?”

  She frowned, then shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s just a sketch. I can’t charge you for it.”

  It was my turn to frown. “That doesn’t feel right.”

  “Buy me a coffee sometime.” Haley took a step toward the door. “Thanks for letting me clear the air.”

  It hit me that she was about to leave. Or that she was prepared to leave if I didn’t do anything to stop her.

  “How about now? You free for that coffee now?”

  “Um...sure.”

  “We have choices. Come into the packing room.”

  I set her sketch down carefully on my desk then led her down the short corridor to the next room.

  “This is where we pack the coffee for shipping.”

  She blinked at the bagging machine that filled most of one corner, its footprint taking up the space of a couple of filing cabinets.

  “This is probably pretty stupid in hindsight, but I had this picture in my head of you and your brother filling the bags by hand.”

  “That’s a nice idea, but there’s no way we could fulfill all our orders by hand. Plus the machine is more hygienic and accurate.”

  I turned toward the trestle table that held the coffee machines along the opposite wall.

  “Wow. That’s a lot of grinders,” Haley said, taking in the five Mazzer Minis we had lined up on the table alongside our Rocket Giotto espresso machine.

  “We taste test every batch of beans. There’s a grinder for every variety, so we can minimize cross-contamination.”

  Haley nodded, then inhaled deeply. “It smells so good in here.”

  “To be honest, I only notice it these days when I’ve been out on delivery and come back in.”

  “That’s kind of sad. Fresh coffee is one of the best smells in the world.”

  “Pick your poison,” I said, waving toward the grinders. “Costa Rica single origin, Organic Papua New Guinea, the Black Sheep blend—that’s the one you serve at the Bean—our new Black Stallion blend for cold brew or our Swiss-water decaf.”

  Haley blinked a few times. “Okay. That’s a lot of choices. Which is your favorite?”

  “I like them all. That’s why we sell them.” I smiled at her.

  “Thanks for the help,” she said, giving me a mock-disapproving look.

  “What are you in the mood for? Mellow and easy? Intense and smoky?”

  Her eyebrows knit in a brief frown, and I knew she was trying to work out if I’d meant for my words to come out sounding a little dirty.

  I totally had, because now that she was here and within reach, all I could think about was making her scream my name again.

  “Intense and smoky sounds good,” she said, and I watched the color bloom in her cheeks.

  It was pretty fascinating, the contrast between Haley-in-bed and Haley-not-in-bed. The former took what she wanted, no holds barred, while the latter was more hesitant, less certain.

  I liked them both, for different reasons.

  “Costa Rica, here we come,” I said.

  I busied myself pouring beans into the grinder while Haley wandered over to inspect the bagging machine.

  “Where’d you learn to draw like that?” I asked once the whirr of the grinder had faded to silence.

  “Nowhere really. I’m self-taught.”

  “So it’s natural talent, then.”

  She shrugged a shoulder and I could tell she was uncomfortable with the praise.

  “How many bags can this thing do a minute?” she asked, resting a hand on the feed hopper.

  “Thirty. What sort of milk do you prefer?”

  “Whole milk is great, thank you.”

  I poured milk into a jug and got busy steaming it. Then I locked the group handle into the machine and flicked the switch to extract the coffee. I was aware of Haley checking out an open box of packaging and guessed she was looking for distractions to try to ease her nervousness.

  Which was pretty adorable. Everything about her was adorable, really. And sexy as hell.

  I divided the steamed milk between both mugs, pulling out all the stops to create my best latte art on hers. Haley had probably served more coffees than me in her time,
and no doubt knew every trick in the book, but I figured there was no harm putting my best foot forward and painstakingly created a stylized nautilus shell in her foam.

  “Here you go,” I said, and Haley abandoned the safety of the corner to come get her drink, her skirt swishing around her knees.

  “Hey, look at that. Fancy,” she said when she saw my shell.

  “This is where you tell me you have a Barista of the Year award on the wall at home,” I joked.

  “God, no. I never conquered fancy coffee art. The best I can do is a simple fan pattern.”

  I sucked the foam off my coffee and watched her do the same, my gaze zeroing in on the pink tip of her tongue as she made sure she hadn’t left any foam lingering on her lips.

  I could feel myself starting to get hard as I focused on her mouth, remembering how good it had been to kiss her.

  “This is really nice,” she said, darting me a quick look from beneath her lashes.

  “We source it directly from a Fair Trade plantation in Costa Rica. They’re our first supplier. The plantation that started it all.”

  She nodded, then gulped down a mouthful of coffee, followed by another. I watched her over the rim of my cup, guessing what her next move would be and trying not to smile.

  Sure enough, a second later she set her cup down on the table and gave a little sigh that was intended to convey satisfaction.

  “That was perfect, thank you. But I’d better get going, I’ve taken up enough of your day.”

  I took a mouthful of my own coffee, then set it down next to hers.

  “Do you have anywhere you need to be?” I asked.

  Her gaze locked with mine, and I saw the flare of desire as she understood my intent.

  “I should really go,” she said, but I knew her heart wasn’t in it.

  “So you just came here to apologize and drop off your sketch?” I asked.