“I’m going to wipe down tables in the dining area,” Lucy said, and laughed when Grace didn’t respond.
She moved from table to table as she picked up tiny pieces of paper and then wiped each table clean. She swept the piles of change that customers had left behind into her purple apron pockets and hoped the pennies and nickels weren’t left out of courtesy. Gee thanks.
Back at the counter, Lucy attempted to throw her towel into the bucket of bleach and water, but missed, spilling the water instead. She bent to clean up her mess, which had expanded to the floor.
“Uh, Lucy,” Grace said from the other side of the counter.
Lucy looked up and narrowed her eyes at Grace’s strange expression. “What?” she asked, confused.
“You have a customer,” Grace answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Lucy groaned as she got to her tired feet and approached the register. She was exhausted and it was only nine in the morning. “How may I—oh.”
It was only right then, when she looked into those familiar eyes, that she understood Grace’s look. “It’s you,” she said absentmindedly. Her mouth was wide open; she could feel it, but she just couldn’t seem to close it.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” she said, still staring.
He slowly cocked his head to the right, his squinted eyes taking her in. “I see you at the park, don’t I?”
Heat rushed over her face, her cheeks bursting with each rise in temperature. She felt Grace’s eyes on her, but she wasn’t worried what Grace thought at the moment. She nodded slowly, but couldn’t find any words to go with it. That small movement of the head would be her response.
“I thought so. Uh, anyway, I have a question for you,” he began. “I normally drink my coffee black.”
“Okay,” she answered carefully.
“But I got into a bit of trouble last night with my brothers and I’m not feeling the hot coffee right now, you know?”
“Okay,” she said, still baffled.
“I guess I need something cold, but with a kick.” He raked his fingers through his light brown hair before locking those green eyes with hers. “I need caffeine, but I need it cold. I’m not up on the current coffee lingo, but what I don’t want is something with whipped cream and chocolate all over it. Does that make sense?”
Lucy shook her head.
“No?” he asked. “That doesn’t make sense?”
Snap out of it, Lucy! “No. I’m sorry,” she said with a long sigh. “It’s been a really long morning. Yes. It makes sense.”
“You need an iced coffee,” Grace intervened.
He pointed at Grace. “I hear ice and I hear coffee, so, yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Grace said. She smiled, but Lucy knew by Grace’s expression that she was feeling that same Oh my God feeling.
“Just milk and sugar?” Lucy asked.
He stared at her for a few seconds before his lips slowly curved into an unreadable smile. “Sure. Sweeten it up.”
Lucy felt her face flush with a color that wasn’t meant to be seen by a man. “Okay,” she said, and headed over to make his drink. On the way, she raised her eyebrows at Grace, who gave her a knowing look.
“I’ve never been in here before,” he said as Lucy worked. “I drive past it every day.”
“My cousin, Lydia, owns it,” Lucy answered, and then wondered why she felt that information was important. “It’s been here for about three years.”
“It’s nice,” he said as he looked around. He bent over to look through the glass that separated him from the cinnamon rolls, bagels, croissants, fritters, muffins, breads, and scones. “I guess I should get something for my crew.”
Lucy brought his coffee over and set it on the counter. “What would you like?”
“What do you recommend?”
“Bagels are pretty easy. Or muffins.”
“I’m sorry. You have a little …” He chuckled as he raised his hand and pointed to the corner of his mouth.
Lucy felt the humiliating blush stain her cheeks again. “What?” she asked, and quickly pulled her hand up to her mouth. “Here?”
“It’s something … there. No,” he said. “It’s right here.”
Suddenly, he reached out and touched the skin just above her upper lip. With one gentle swipe, he wiped away whatever it was. Caught completely off guard, Lucy lost her breath as he slowly pulled his hand from her face.
He rubbed his finger on the bottom of his shirt. “It was cream or something.”
“Cream?” she asked quietly, and licked her lips. “Oh, no. It was frosting. We were eating cupcakes.”
“Makes perfect sense,” he said, clearly amused. He bent back down to look into the display case.
Lucy fidgeted with a napkin while she waited. He was bent in a way that exposed just how lovely his backside was. His jeans hung perfectly on everything dangerous and his white T-shirt showed off just about every angle and line he had underneath, including a black tribal tattoo that wrapped around his tan, muscular arm.
She licked her lips again.
“Muffins,” he finally decided, tapping on the glass. “I’ll take three dozen of whatever you have. Surprise me.”
Lucy hurried as she grabbed every muffin in her reach and then headed to the back to grab more. “I need two dozen muffins. Whatever kind we have,” she told Lydia, and began to scoop up anything she could find.
“I just made some,” Lydia said, her eyes filled with curiosity. “Where’s the fire?”
Lucy looked down and realized her hands were shaking. She must have looked manic. She felt manic. “Lydia! Just help me!”
Lydia eyed her strangely, but pulled the bag from her hands and began to help fill it. “Calm down,” she said quietly.
Lucy ripped the bag back from her. “Thanks,” she said, and pushed open the double doors that led out of the kitchen.
“Here you are,” she said in a voice that she hoped sounded at ease.
He pulled out his wallet and looked at her expectantly. “How much?”
She had forgotten to ring up his order. She began to push a combination of buttons until she finally arrived at a number that didn’t seem quite right in her head, but she said it anyway. “Fifteen thirty-seven.”
He handed her his card. “Add five dollars on there for you, please.”
“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes I do, Lucy,” he said. “You were very helpful today.”
Lucy gasped. It was a lot louder in her head, she was sure, but it was a gasp, nonetheless. “How do you know my name?”
He squinted and then his eyes traveled down to her chest. “You’re wearing a nametag.”
“Oh,” she said, mortified. She absentmindedly brought her hand up to her chest to feel her nametag. “I forgot it was there.”
“Right. So, anyway, thanks.” He grabbed his bag of muffins and coffee, and walked backward. “Maybe I’ll see you at the park or something.” He slipped on his aviator sunglasses and walked out the door.
“Holy shit.” Grace moved closer to Lucy and joined her in watching him through the window. “Did you see he still has a wedding ring on? That’s heartbreaking.”
Lucy nodded slowly and tried to pinpoint all of the emotions she felt raging through her. It was one thing to watch him and his son from a park bench, but it was a completely different thing to have him actually speak to her.
“Lucy, your face looks like it’s on fire,” Grace warned in her famous don’t-be-stupid tone.
“I’m just shocked,” Lucy practically whispered.
“He’s definitely off-limits. Please say you know that.” When she didn’t get a response, Grace heaved a sigh. “What’s his name again?”
“Charlie Mathews,” Lucy said. “He has no idea who we are.”
“They usually never do when our relationship with them ends in tragedy. It’s like they block us out.”
“
I can’t say that I blame him,” Lucy said, wishing she could’ve blocked him out, too.
Chapter Three
Charlie closed the door to his truck and shook his head. “Sweeten it up?” he asked himself. “Did I really just say that?”
He shook his head and took a drink of his cold coffee, which was surprisingly good. He touched her face. Why had he done that? It was automatic; there had been no thought in that action whatsoever. It was definitely invasive—intimate, but completely invasive.
Yes, he had noticed her at the park from the minute Jackson’s ball had rolled her way. She had been crying … over a book. He thought it was extraordinary that such an emotion could be pulled out from just a book. He had been drawn to it, but that was exactly why he walked away. It was too complicated and messy. And each time he had seen her again, he had wanted to avoid her. The park simply wasn’t big enough anymore.
But, now, here she was again.
He wondered how long he had allowed his eyes to linger at her open shirt, which had revealed only a little, but still enough to affect him, before finally looking at her damn nametag. How inappropriate was he just now? He had looked at many chests in the past. As a matter of fact, breasts were, without a doubt, his favorite female attribute. But this was the first time in more than a year that he’d found himself interested in breasts that didn’t belong to his wife—or his late wife; he wasn’t sure what to call her just yet.
He fiddled with his wedding ring, spinning it around and around as he lost himself in thought. She was adorable; there was no getting away from that. And, to top it off, he’d seemed to have an effect on her; her cheeks hadn’t stopped flushing from the moment their eyes met. He must have looked like a complete pig, wearing this ring and touching her face. He cringed at the thought.
Nope. He would definitely not be going back there.
He started his truck and pulled away from the curb, only glancing in the direction of the café.
A few minutes later, he pulled onto the jobsite, a new shopping center, and laughed at some of the guys on his crew who raised their arms and looked at their imaginary watches.
“Funny,” he said as he got out to greet them. He threw the bag of muffins on the hood of his truck and waited for the sarcastic remarks.
“Aww,” Andrew, a longtime laborer, said in a slightly feminine voice, “Boss, you shouldn’t have.”
“Muffins? Did somebody have a good night?” Dan, a forklift operator, asked. He dug into the bag and took a bite of muffin without even looking to see what kind he’d pulled out. “Tell me you got laid, man.”
Charlie shook his head. “No.”
“Too bad.” Andrew took a large bite of a muffin. With his mouth full, he added, “You need it.”
Charlie waved them off as he headed up to the trailer where his boss, Mike, was sure to be sitting. He opened the door and felt the gust of cold air that blasted from the portable A.C. in one of the windows. Normally, he would have protested the cold; Mike liked it chilly and Charlie loved the heat. Today, however, the cold air helped his hangover.
Charlie sat across from Mike and leaned back in his chair. He knew what was coming, so he just waited for it patiently.
“You’re late,” Mike finally grumbled from behind his newspaper. He had his big construction boots on his desk, one foot crossed over the other. “You think those guys are gonna let it slide because of muffins?”
Charlie sighed. “It’ll shut them up for a few minutes.”
“The real question is: did you bring me any?” he asked, his newspaper still blocking his face.
Charlie pulled out the two muffins he had managed to grab from the bag before the guys ate them all. He set them down on Mike’s desk and smiled. “Of course.”
Mike peered out from behind his newspaper. He eyed the muffins in front of him and slowly took one. “Banana nut,” he said, and took a bite. “Are these from your mom? God, I love that woman’s cooking.”
“You should join us for dinner, then. And, no, they’re not from Mom. I got them at that place in Scottsdale, Lydia’s Delights or something.”
Mike Ledbetter had been Charlie’s father’s best friend. Even after Carl’s death when Charlie was sixteen, Mike had been a presence for the entire Mathews family. He came to all of Charlie’s football games in high school and college. When Charlie decided that school wasn’t for him, Mike had been there to support him and offer him a job, even though he didn’t understand Charlie’s motives. The point was that he didn’t try and talk him out of it like everyone else had. He just let him be.
He had been a fill-in for Charlie’s dad, not because he wanted to take his place, but because he was happy when he was with the Mathews. Maybe it kept Carl’s memory alive for him. Charlie never did figure it out. But, for some reason, Mike suddenly stopped coming around and Charlie stopped asking why when he realized he would never get an answer.
Mike took another bite and looked at Charlie. “You look like shit. I’m not going to get much out of you today, am I?”
Charlie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think today’s an indoor day for me. I’m sure there are a few invoices that need my attention.”
“Sure thing. What’d you do last night?”
Charlie cringed, remembering the last shot that barely went down. “Brothers,” was all he needed to say for Mike to smile in understanding.
“I got them back.” Charlie grinned.
“How so?”
“I left them in charge of Jack today,” Charlie said, knowing Jackson would torture them.
“They’ll never ask you to go out again.” Mike took another bite. “Lydia’s Delights, huh? Is that that place down on Fifth Avenue?”
“Yep,” Charlie said, hoping that would be the end of it. Mike had a strange intuition when it came to knowing he was on the trail of something.
“The one with the purple walls and all the hippie decor?”
“That’s the one.”
Mike grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Fine lookin’ women in there.”
“Don’t do that. You look like a dirty old man.”
“Well, there are. I stop in there when I don’t want to deal with you idiots right away in the morning. They just get prettier and prettier, especially that cute little blonde.”
Charlie smiled and looked out the window, knowing exactly who he meant. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You did, too,” Mike accused, and tossed a crumpled napkin at Charlie’s face. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, kid.”
“Okay.” Charlie picked up the napkin and tossed it in the trash. “I might’ve noticed.”
Mike drank from his thermos and gave Charlie an encouraging look.
Charlie exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “I touched her face,” he said, and couldn’t help but to laugh at his own stupidity.
Mike erupted into wild laughter and slapped his desk. “You did what?”
“She had frosting on her face. I leaned forward and wiped it away like she was my son,” Charlie said, and shook his head.
Mike almost fell out of his chair as he continued to howl with laughter.
“Stop,” Charlie said, his face turning red again. Really, that color had never been on his face so much in one day.
Mike stood and clapped his hands. “We need to get your flirting skills back on track, kid. Remember when you were the biggest dog in Arizona? Where’s that guy?”
Charlie shook his head. “I believe my little sister’s soon-to-be husband had that honor. Besides, even if I was a close second, I don’t ever want to be that guy again.”
Mike took his seat and blew out a long breath. “All joking aside, you don’t have to be that guy again, Charlie. Just don’t be the guy that lives to …”
“To what?” Charlie asked quickly. He knew where this was going. He didn’t want to be the guy who was waiting for his dead wife, either, but it wasn’t that simple. “Just don’t finish your s
entence, Mike. I know.”
“You know what I was hoping when I saw that you were late to work for the first time in seven years?”
Charlie shook his head and waited for an answer.
“I hoped you had gone out and met someone. I hoped you’d gone back to her place and called off work today with a text that said you just couldn’t pull yourself away from her this morning.” He picked up a stack of papers and banged them onto the desk to straighten them out. “You’re twenty-seven and before you know it you’ll be an old man like me. Life’s too short, kid; it doesn’t slow down for you to think things through. ”
“Really, Mike? Where’s your wife? Where’s the woman you can’t pry yourself away from in the morning?” Charlie knew that stung, but he had never known Mike to practice what he was preaching, so he felt it was only fair.
Mike’s gray eyes darkened. It was clear that Charlie had hit a nerve. He pursed his lips and tapped a finger on the desk while he seemed to search for an answer. “Never had a wife, but I did have a woman. I blew it and now I just sort of go with the flow. Trust me, though, Charlie, my bed isn’t always as cold as yours.”
With that, Charlie stood up and walked over to the file cabinet that held the paperwork that needed his attention. He flipped through each file and pulled out a few material receipts. “Where’s that receipt for the portable light towers we used for …” The door closed behind him and he realized that Mike was gone.
Hours later, Charlie stepped into his small, bungalow-style house and looked around at the eruption of toys, clothes, and food. It looked as if someone had picked up his house, turned it upside down, and shook it before putting it down again. He blew out a long whistle and stepped into his living room, where he found Jonah and Hugh lying on the couch, and Jackson sitting on the floor with Hugh’s cellphone.
“Long day?” he asked them with a grin. It was pretty obvious that Jackson had terrorized them. He nodded in Jackson’s direction. “He might be buying a bunch of apps, Hugh. I wouldn’t let him play with that.”
“Don’t care,” Hugh mumbled and closed his eyes. “As long as he keeps his little ass there, I’ll pay for a thousand apps.”
Beyond the Orange Moon (Mathews Family Book 2) Page 4