Brew Ha Ha Box Set: Books 1-4

by Bria Quinlan

  “You look nice.”

  “You sound surprised.” I tried not to show how surprised I was at his surprise.

  “No. Just...Well, I've seen your morning thrown together look.” He shrugged. “There's no yoga pants involved today.”

  Nope. Today I was wearing a little pair of white Capris and a blue t-shirt that cost more than any three t-shirts I owned before. I'll admit, it fit perfectly and it was super soft, but still. Who paid this much for a t-shirt? I'd even thrown on a little ball cap—not one with his team's logo—that was listed in the accepted binder and paired it with strappy flats and new sunglasses, then topped it off with a flowy scarf.

  I'd never felt so put together in my life.

  Getting ready was typically exhausting, but this hadn't been so bad. It didn't hurt that Becca had emailed more pictures of how to combine outfits that I was supposed to print out and update my binder with.

  I grabbed my bag and a light coat before following him to the door.

  “Have you been to this Brew Ha Ha place?”

  I'd kind of hoped he'd forgotten about The Brew. It was the coffee shop where my girlfriends and I wrote and hung out.

  “Yup. I go there all the time.” I turned around to put my coat on, afraid to look him in the eye. “Are you sure you don't want to head over to a Starbucks? There's one just a little further down the street.”

  “I don't think I'd make it.” He glanced around as if he might swoon at any moment and needed a soft place to land. “You'd have to get a bag of coffee and bring it back in the form of an IV.”

  “But, then you know what you're getting. You know? There's no disappointment.”

  “I like trying new things.”

  “I’m kind of craving…” I scrambled for a Starbucksy something as I faced him. “A mocha-mocha-soy-espresso-chai.” Um, yeah.

  “Is there a reason you don't want to go to The Brew Ha Ha?”

  Yes. “No. It's just...”

  He stopped, his hands going to his hips as he glanced away. “You don't want to introduce me to your friends if they're there.”

  Kind of.

  “No,” is what I said out loud. “I just—I'm not ready to deal with it all yet. It was weird enough when it was just the two of us. Now you want to throw my friends into the mix right away.”

  “You haven't told them yet about the deal?”

  “Oh, I told them alrighty.” Because that’s what girls do when they’re venting, they tell the most horrible parts that really upset them. Only, you can’t take those things back later.

  There must have been something about the tone of my voice, because that smirk came out again.

  “And you may not have told them the most flattering things about me, is that it?”

  “Well, you weren't exactly kind when we met.”

  Which was a good reminder for me as well. This was just another game to him.

  It would take a while to figure out which Connor was real. The first one, who dismissed me so easily, or the one he was showing me now who was a little insane about caffeine but seemed like a good guy.

  “Hailey, you have to understand. A ball player has only two things going for him: his skill on the field and his reputation. I need to be able to get ads and maybe a hosting gig when my knee or my shoulder or my wrist or my ankle or whatever it is that's going to go goes.”

  I froze, crossing my arms and watching him explain this.

  “Then, they tell me my reputation is shot and we need to repair it. They follow that up with, ‘Don't worry. We have the perfect girl. Cute, funny, smart. She's one of the darlings of publishing for your target audience.’"

  “And?”

  And, I knew where this was going, but I wanted to see if he'd say it. If he'd really go that far.

  “Well, Hailey, you have to admit you were a mess that morning.”

  “I was not a mess. You live in a dream world where it's a woman's job to look good. If she didn't look good, then she'd be a sucky model or whatever wouldn't she?”

  “It's not just that. I mean...”

  I waited him out this time. He hadn't been able to finish a sentence since he realized he was digging a hole so deep he'd tossed out the shovel and brought in a backhoe halfway through.

  “Yes?”

  “You told your friends I was a jerk.” He sounded genuinely upset about this.

  “Here's a clue. If you don't want people to tell other people you're a jerk, don't act like a jerk.”

  We glared at each other eye to eye because of the stairs. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. I was mad. So mad. Yes, I'd told the girls what he was like. And it was true. It was also true that yesterday he'd been nothing but nice.

  The disparity of it bothered me. How much of yesterday was an act and how much of before was just him being caught off guard?

  “I'm not a jerk.” He glanced away, his gaze going out the window to the treetops lining the street. “Listen, I know. I know I came off for you far worse than you came off for me that morning. I was rude. It’s just…”

  He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he still stared past me. Then he laughed. Not a typical Connor laugh, but one that was a little sad and self-deprecating.

  “Gavin’s told me I’ve lost track of myself.” He turned and looked at me with that full attention gaze he seemed to be able to give to anyone. “Hailey, I’m sorry that I was rude and selfish and self-focused in the elevator and that I demeaned you in front of a woman because she was beautiful and dressed for her job. I was angry and worried and I defaulted to the person I put out for the papers, not the guy I like to be when I’m with my family or the few friends I trust. You are not ugly or beneath me. You’re…I like you. I’m glad we’re deciding to be friends. It’s…good, you know? Friends is good. I could use more. Especially an honest one.”

  I stared at him, afraid to move as everything, everything about this whole mess shattered under my feet.

  I took a deep breath, and, with that…I let it go.

  “Fine.” Then, I added because it felt correct, “Thank you.”

  “Okay.” He crossed his arms and uncrossed them. “Thank you back.”

  We headed out the door, both of us caught in our own worlds as we tried to figure out what this meant. I didn’t argue with people. Jenna and Kasey, yes. Dane, always.

  Either it was because Connor had hurt my feelings and I’d had a hard time letting it go. Or it was just Connor and the way he made you feel like the center of everything, that had me feeling like I could argue with him. Like he was a safe zone.

  “Listen.” I went down the two steps to join him on the landing. “Let’s just…let’s go back to the friends thing. Especially at The Brew.”

  “I'll be nice to your friends.”

  “I know.” I knew he would. I was trying to adjust to this new Connor. The one I’d met was so solid-rooted in our short relationship, that doing this one-eighty was making me dizzy.

  We reached the lobby and I headed toward the door.

  “Hailey.” He caught up with me and snagged my hand. “We'll start now.”

  I had no idea what he meant. Start what?

  Connor stared through the glass of the door to the sidewalk, a suspicious look on his face.

  “Start what?”

  “As of the second we walked out of your apartment, we were in public. If we're going to do this, we need to help each other remember. Conversations like that need to happen behind closed doors and when we're out, we need to look like we're together.”

  I hated this. A lot.

  “Fine.”

  He took my hand, rolling it over in his so he stared down at it as if he were reading my palm. His thumb traced a small circle over it, running over the ridges.

  “You have tiny hands.”

  “That's because I'm not six-feet tall. Those hands would look like big Hamburger Helper gloves on me.”

  Connor laughed as he threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his side.
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  “It would be worse if it were your feet. You'd be tripping over those things all the time.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile. I knew what he was doing. And, because it was easier, I let it work. Plus, to be fair, I believed him when he said he wanted to be friends. It wasn't his fault I wasn't a model—it was only his fault he was a jerk about me not being a model.

  We walked down the street, people barely glancing our way. Connor kept up a light conversation, telling me a story about his brother's date a few weeks before and how the girl had thought he was a millionaire because she'd met him coming out of Connor's building.

  Of course, hilarity ensued and Gavin ended up telling her where to go.

  I suggested maybe she was a better match for Connor and we could double date. He was a bit appalled when I asked if he had a picture of Gavin on him.

  Obviously that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

  He'd just finished telling me what he thought of me wanting to meet his brother when The Brew came into sight. The cute little sun umbrellas were open giving an extra dash of color to the cottage-looking building with its quaint shutters and gaslights.

  “Wow. If the coffee is anywhere as good as the shop looks, this may be my new go-to spot.”

  I froze. Just stopped walking right there in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the woman behind us to curse and dodge around us.

  “What?” Connor loosened his grip on my shoulders so he could turn to face me.

  “I think we need to create some ground rules.”

  "You mean, about the coffee shop.”

  “I mean about a lot of things.” I glanced down the street, looking to see if anyone was coming. “But, maybe this is one of those apartment conversations you were discussing this morning.”

  Connor nodded, drawing me back around under his arm. “In the meantime, I won't get attached.”

  Perfect. That would be my mantra too.

  10

  THE INSIDE OF The Brew was warm and welcoming—just like always. Today it was the guy standing next to me that gave me a bit of a chill. It was like a cool, calm summer evening before a storm, lulling you into going out in shorts without an umbrella.

  I was not going to be lulled.

  I was lull’less.

  I headed toward the counter, Connor following behind me, his hand slipping to the curve of my back again. We were early for the Sunday morning crowd and only had to wait a minute or two before Abby the Barista deigned to greet us in her usual warm and sunny manner.

  Yes. That was sarcasm.

  “You're early.” She pointed toward our empty corner. “Your friends aren't here yet.”

  “Right. I saw that.”

  “Maybe you want to come back later and not lounge around taking up space.”

  “We'd rather lounge.” I smiled, trying to rush past this part and get to the tea and muffin goodness.

  Abby fixed me with her patent-ready stare. At eighteen she was more hard-nailed than Catherine was. If Catherine ever quit agenting, Abby might be a good person to step in. She'd probably have publishers crying.

  “Abby.” John's voice came from the backroom. “We've talked about threatening our regulars, right?”

  “It wasn't a threat.” Abby glanced my way and it felt like a threat. “It was just a suggestion.”

  John pushed through the swinging door, his arms filled with to-go cups and gave me a warm smile. “Morning, Hailey.”

  “Hey, John.”

  I waited. I'd been through too many of these learning situations with Abby. Oddly, the girl didn't seem to mind being corrected in front of an audience and I knew John liked to do it right away. Like you might with a puppy.

  I knew a few customers who would pay good money to watch him rap her on the nose with a rolled up paper.

  “Abby, you know Hailey and her friends are here more than any of our other customers. They spend more money here than anyone else. They do it because they buy the time to lounge. I've also seen all of them occasionally slip a twenty in the tip jar to thank you, so not only is it rude to suggest she leave and come back when her friends are here, it's bad business.”

  I'd watched him do this over and over again. Explain not just the soft reasons, but the business reasons for doing something.

  Jenna had told me once Abby was in some type of manager-training program for at-risk teens. She was here during the day too, so high school obviously wasn't working out. She'd recently started carrying one of those big GED books around, so I was hoping that she was making the most of what John offered her.

  “Fine.” She sighed as if he was pointing out a detrimental truth that she was going to have to accept in order to allow world order to continue. “You're right. They spend money.”

  “And you secretly like me.” I grinned. I couldn't help it. She might be eighteen, but there was something about pushing her a little.

  “If I liked you, why would I keep it a secret?” This question seemed to confuse her.

  I just kept smiling at her, waiting for her next snappy comeback. Abby upset Jenna the Soft-Hearted and confused Kasey the Kind. But me? I got a kick out of her. I knew that girl could do anything she put her mind to, based on pure stubbornness.

  “You.” Abby had spotted Connor. I’d hoped for a little star struck'ness. “You're the guy who shows up on all those trashy magazines covers.”

  Oh. Oh, that was even better.

  “Um. Yeah?” Connor looked at me not quite sure what to say.

  But it was nice someone else was calling him on his public dating habits.

  Abby shook her head and looked at me like I'd gone nuts. “What are you doing with him?”

  I almost jumped the counter and hugged her. All the looks, all the worry about what he'd be doing with me, and it took a grumpy, eighteen-year-old to ask the opposite.

  “Well, you can tell he's a little lost when it comes to women.” I grinned at her because she was making me so happy right now. “I'm mostly humoring him. He asked me out and he's kept me amused, so we'll see where it goes.”

  She nodded like this was the most logical reason for me to be standing there with one of the country's top bachelors.

  “Abby.” John came back and hovered. “Have you asked them what they're having yet?”

  Back to business.

  “What are you having?”

  “I'll have a green tea and a chocolate muffin.”

  “Heated?”

  “Of course.” As if this all needed to be done. Abby could have had the order finished before I reached the counter.

  “And him?” She glanced toward Connor and then back at me as if she wasn't sure he could put a whole sentence together.

  After a short silence, I answered for him. “Coffee.”

  “Plain coffee?” She sounded even more horrified by the idea of plain coffee. “He can get plain coffee anywhere. John just bought a new bean from Venezuela. He should try that.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. Let’s just move this along. I wanted my muffin.

  “Wait a second.” Connor finally spoke up after watching Abby and I bounce words back and forth like two kids playing catch. “How do you know I'll like these new beans from Venezuela?”

  “Everyone likes them.”

  “That's not true.” Connor nodded his head in my direction. “She's having tea.”

  “Well, if she drank coffee she'd like them.”

  “Maybe I just want plain coffee,” he argued.

  After watching him order last night, I highly doubted that.

  “Do you?” I asked. “Do you want plain coffee?”

  Connor looked at me as if I were betraying him.

  “No.” Answering didn't stop the scowling. “But that doesn't mean I can't pick out my own coffee. I'm not an idiot.”

  I patted his hand where it rested on my shoulder really enjoying being the calm one for once.

  “Okay. Tell Abby what you want.” I gave him a sweet smile. He seemed like he needed i
t with the coffee emergency and all.

  Connor frowned in my general direction before swinging his gaze toward the chalkboard over the counter. “What's the Pandora's Blend?”

  “Oh.” Abby brightened. I could see I was going to lose my ally before the conversation was over. “Good choice.”

  She went on to explain some complicated roasting and combining methods for the beans I couldn't have cared much less about. What I did care about was that Connor was doing that smile-welcome-attention-bonding thing and slowing down my chocolate muffin arrival.

  Not to mention, winning Abby over.

  I walked down the counter, eyeing the muffins as I went. I was two seconds away from pressing my nose against the glass and drooling when John popped out of the backroom again.

  “Why don't I just get that for you before you swoon?”

  “Thank you.” I managed to tear my gaze off the pastries to smile at John. “You're a god among men.”

  He popped the muffin in the microwave and turned back, leaning on the display case.

  “Speaking of god among men...” John nodded his head toward Connor. “Looks like he gained another fan. Didn't take him long.”

  “I know. It's disgusting.” Even I noticed the distinct lack of heat in my words. I wanted to believe it was, but every time I saw him with someone, he came off as so genuine, I was beginning to believe what he’d said about the bad day and the challenge his brother had thrown at him.

  “I meant more, what are you doing with him?” He waved a hand before I could go on the attack. I was sick of not being good enough. “You're smart, funny, successful, and pretty. Why are you with a guy who has a whole column every week dedicated to being shallow?”

  I didn’t know if Connor heard any of that. Part of me wished he had. He needed a reality check about how the real world viewed him. The other part didn't want to see his feelings hurt.

  I started to politely tell him to mind his own business, but then I looked closer and saw the concern.

  “He's settling down.”

  John just raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Go grab your chair. I'll bring your tea over while she explains every variety of coffee bean known to woman.”