Happy Pants Cafe

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Harper shifted right into “show nothing” mode. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I see no story, and I’m driving home. You’re the one who ordered the bottle of wine.”

  “You, my dear, sweet friend, are a terrible liar.”

  Dammit. I really, really am. Harper shook her head, continuing to hold her ground. But I need this story. I need to get rid of him. She gave it a moment of thought. All right, he’s determined to stay. Really, all she needed were ten minutes alone with Ms. Luci and, perhaps, to interview a few of the customers exiting the café. It would take forty minutes tops to get what she needed. I’ll make sure he stays up late. Perhaps, he’ll “accidentally” have a little too much to drink, too. After all, she was a seasoned wine drinker while he, on the other hand, looked like a vision of perfect health, one of those “my body is my temple” sort of guys who rarely touched the stuff. One or two drinks, he’d be ruined for tomorrow. I’ll get up early and beat him over there.

  Harper looked up at Austin and squared her shoulders. “Fine. You caught me. I think that the café is some exclusive club for arranging marriages.”

  Austin laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Why?” Harper leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She noticed his eyes momentarily drift down to her breasts.

  Don’t even think about it, nipples!

  “Christina Bass-Andrews,” he said, “would never agree to marry a stranger. Second, arranged marriages are common only in very traditional societies. Christina is about as traditional as a Tweet. And,” he held up three fingers, “women like her would never let someone tell her who to marry.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You tell me, Marie. You’re a modern, independent, good-looking woman. Would you let someone tell you who to marry?”

  He thinks I’m good-looking.

  She took a moment to allow her flutters to stop flapping their wings. “Let’s pretend you’re right and I’m wrong, which is completely impossible, then tell me what you think is going on over there.”

  The waitress appeared carrying two oversized wineglasses, presenting a bottle. Austin nodded and then turned his gaze back to Harper. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it has to be one of those female rituals invented by women desperate to get married.”

  The waitress poured a glass for Harper to taste and asked, “Are you two talking about that place?” Her gaze flashed over to the floral arches across the street.

  “Yes. What do you know about it?” Harper absentmindedly lifted the glass, forgetting to actually try the wine, and nodded.

  “Well,” the waitress poured Austin’s glass, “it’s supposedly bad luck to talk about it, but I have two best friends and a sister who swear by the place.”

  Both Harper and Austin fell silent and scooted closer like children who were about to be told a really, really good story.

  The waitress filled Harper’s gargantuan wineglass the rest of the way. “I don’t know how it started, but that café has been around for a very, very long time. And people say that when you eat one of their cookies, you are guaranteed to meet your one true love within seven days.”

  Harper chuckled. So that was what this was all about? Seriously? Like a Prince Charming lucky charm?

  The waitress leaned in to whisper, “They say that a certain royal couple over in the U.K. owe their wedded bliss to this place. Along with a long list of movie stars.” The waitress mouthed the words, “Brad and Angelina.”

  Harper couldn’t believe that people were buying this crap. “What’s in the cookies?”

  The waitress shrugged. “I don’t know, but half this town will tell you that they know at least three or four happily married couples who met within the seven-day window. That is, if you can get anyone to talk about it.”

  Austin smiled and sipped his wine. “Thank you…uh?”

  The waitress made goo-goo eyes at him. “Charlaine. I’m Charlaine Hendricks. I live down the street in the little purple house.” She winked. “Alone.”

  That was a blatant invite, and Harper wanted to claw her eyes out.

  Whoa, Nelly. What’s up with that? This man is so, so not yours. And he’s so, so not trustworthy.

  Right you are.

  Harper took a real sip of her delicious, smoky red wine with sweet undertones of ripe currants. Yummm…just died, went to heaven.

  “You okay?” Austin asked, one rich, silky brown brow lifted.

  I just had a wine-gasm. Got the panties to prove it!

  Harp! Did you really just think that? What’s the matter with you?

  “Fine. Yep. Just…fine.” And now that we know there is a story here, it’s time to drink your ass under the table. You’re in my territory now, Super Ken. Get ready to muuuuumble!

  Harper chugged down her glass. “That wine is so good.”

  Austin looked at her empty glass, threw back his, and then poured a second round. “I know my wines. Just like I know how to get a story.”

  Yeah. We’ll see about that.

  ~~

  Three Bottles Later…

  “You’re right,” Austin slurred just a little, full glass in hand, empty plate pushed to one side. “The news isn’t news anymore.” He flung his drunken wrist into the air. “It’s just doom and gloom.”

  Harper swayed in her chair and then placed her elbows on the table, cupping her wine. “That’s…right! That’s why I write for the society column, dammit. Everyone is happy! Happy. Happy parties, happy weddings, happy! Hey, speaking of happy, what do you think they put in those cookies?”

  Damn, I am so drunk. Please, dear gods of drunkenness, let me hold my liquor tonight. I promise to kill a tiny creature in your honor if I don’t throw up.

  Austin shrugged his broad, square shoulders. “Nothing. People believe what they want.”

  “Hi. We’re getting ready to close, so can I get you anything else?” The grinning waitress looked like she was ready for bed. With Austin. And Harper’s competitive side, lubricated by way, way too much wine, kicked in.

  “Nope!” Harper spouted. “We’re all ready for that check so you can go home.” Harper lifted her brows and tried to stare without crossing her eyes. “Alone. You should go home. Alone. That’s why God invented vibrators.”

  Austin chuckled and shook his head at Harper while pulling his credit card from his wallet.

  The waitress smiled bitterly. “Be right back.”

  “So, Miss Marie,” Austin leaned in, speaking in a flirty whisper, “where you staying?”

  Harper laughed. God, I am so drunk! And this guy has been doing his winer-cise, for sure! I’ll never outdrink him.

  “I’m just,” she pointed out the window, “down the road at the Muddy Duck B and B.”

  “Me, too.” Austin gave Harper a look, but she felt too drunk to translate it.

  “Really? Because I got the last room.”

  Austin cocked his head. “So did I.”

  “You did? But how’s that…”

  Oh. Austin was making a move on her.

  Harper let her drunken brain spin for a moment. She wanted him, too. But that’s the wine talking. And you never listen when the wine speaks, because the wine only says really stupid things, like, “Yes! Order five hundred dollars’ worth of stripper underwear online, and then post it to Facebook as Look What I just Ordered!” Harper’s dad still gave her hard time about that one; he’d thought she was in trouble with money and had taken up moonlighting.

  But the wine speaks the truth this time, Harp. He looks like a frigging underwear model. He even has that glow. Yes, he’s all glowy and masculine and sexy, with his scruffy jaw and those eyes with the chocolaty thick lashes, and—oh! Don’t forget that chin and those dimples…

  “Wow,” Harper finally said, “what a coincidence that we’re staying at the same B and B.”

  The waitress showed up with the receipt and wished them a good evening.

  Austin signed off and then flashed a w
icked little grin with those sensual, slightly full lips. Harper felt a little tingle between her legs.

  Whoa. A smile-gasm? And it was way better than a knee or wine-gasm.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  Harper wobbled her way to a standing position. “Oh, yeah. We shall,” she said suggestively.

  Was that too much? God, I’m so wasted. But this night was perfect. He’s perfect. They’d been talking for hours about everything from their jobs to favorite movies and books and television programs and places to vacation and, well…everything! They even liked the same kind of dogs: Jack Russells. Honestly, the energy between them was staggering. It was like nothing she’d ever…

  Stop, Harp! Are you forgetting who this is?

  Yes, I am. Because that is what the wine is telling me to do.

  Harper and Austin walked outside, and he offered her his arm. She looked up at him and smiled. “I think I drank too much,” she said, “but that wine and that food…so good.” Especially that cheesecake!

  “I’m pretty impressed, actually. Where did you learn to drink like that?”

  Harper laughed. “Years of skilled practice. Actually, my friends and coworkers are all lushes. We go out a lot.”

  “So no boyfriend?”

  They stopped at the corner, and Austin pressed the crosswalk button. It was just before ten p.m., but plenty of traffic continued flowing through town.

  “I’m currently dating my job,” she said. “He’s very possessive and demanding, but we’re happy. He’s not very good in bed, though.”

  He chuckled. “You’re one of those, are you? In love with work.”

  “Yes!” she said triumphantly.

  The walk sign lit up, and they crossed, arm and arm.

  “So how about you?” Harper asked, hoping he’d say no.

  A gentle breeze drifted over them, and she caught a subtle scent of Austin’s skin. She’d been inhaling him all night long and couldn’t get enough. He smelled like fresh and spicy man. So yummy.

  “I was engaged,” he replied, “but it didn’t work out.”

  Yes, yes, yes, Harper rejoiced while trying to remain sincere.

  “She wanted New York. I wanted San Francisco,” he added.

  “Your family still lives in the area, right?” Harp! You’re not supposed to know that!

  “I mean,” she quickly corrected, “I would guess that they live in the area, and that’s why you want to stay.”

  “Yes. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. How about you?” he asked.

  Well, crap. Harper didn’t want to lie, but it was a little late for that now. “I grew up in South San Francisco.” Okay, Pacifica was south so that was almost not a lie.

  He nodded, and they walked the next few blocks in silence. The sexual tension grew, buzzing in the air around them with every step.

  When they came up to the steps of the B and B, Austin turned toward Harper. “So,” he said, “want to see my room?” He grinned.

  Harper smiled and bit her lip. Obviously, he didn’t have a room, so he was asking to go to hers. Were they really going to do this?

  She nodded yes, and he bent his head, pulling her in for a kiss.

  The breath evaporated from her lungs as their lips collided. His mouth was so soft and sensual, yet rough and prickly around the edges where his stubble touched her skin. His velvety tongue slid inside her mouth, and he tasted like red wine and cheesecake and man and sex and…

  Wow. Harper tried to keep upright, but her head felt like it might just float away, and it wasn’t because of the wine.

  She slid her hands up to his chest and enjoyed its insane firmness. He snaked his arm around the small of her back and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

  It was crazy, but she felt like their mouths belonged together. And so do our bodies. Hers had already done its sex-warm-up calisthenics, getting ready to sprint straight to the big event.

  Harper slid her hand to his cheek and stroked the roughness on his jaw with the tips of her fingers while his soft, sensual lips made love to her mouth. She leaned into him, feeling her heart knock inside her chest and the firmness of his arousal against her stomach.

  This man is so sexy. The intensity and pace of their kiss moved from steamy to indecent. Harper started to unbutton his shirt.

  Austin cupped her cheeks and abruptly pulled back. “I think we should move this inside before we end up naked and someone calls the police.”

  “Yes. Good thinking. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing your happy pants.” Harper flashed a glance at his obvious erection before grabbing his hand. They quickly scurried past the vacant front desk and up the stairs to the third floor. As she dug for the key in her purse, she felt Austin’s hot lips on the side of her neck and his even hotter somethin’…somethin’ pressing into her ass. Oh, my Lord, this man is so hot. How can this be Austin? That Austin?

  Because it’s not. That Austin was a boy. This is a man.

  She fumbled with the key and finally pushed it in. They stumbled into the room and quickly glommed onto each other, hands frantically touching and exploring, lips and mouths sliding and sucking. Austin backed her toward the bed, and she fell, bringing him right on top of her. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Oh, my God, he feels so amazing.

  Austin pulled back and kneeled between her legs, frantically unbuttoning this shirt. When he opened it, he tossed it to the floor.

  Jesus. He’s got a ten-pack! And those pecs. Holy crap. She pulled him back to her and felt his hands run up the outside of her thigh to her hip. Grinding his rock-solid cock against her throbbing, tingling bud, he began tugging down her panties. Panting, she suddenly remembered she was missing one essential component.

  More wine?

  No, idiot! A condom.

  His lips moved to her neck.

  “Austin? Do you have…protection?”

  Austin froze and looked at her. “Shit. No, I don’t. But…there’s a gas station four blocks away. I can be back in five minutes.”

  Harper nodded frantically. “Okay. Okay. Just hurry. Run. As fast as your happy pants can move.”

  He quickly hopped from the bed and grabbed his white shirt. He fastened just a few buttons and then pulled the tails down in front to hide the enormous ten-person tent.

  Harper stared, still unable to believe how gorgeous he was. And happy.

  “Take the key. It’s right there on the floor,” she said, pointing to the spot where she’d dropped it next to her purse.

  He smiled. “I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me.”

  “No chance.”

  He disappeared out the door, and Harper flipped over onto her stomach. “Oh, my God. What am I doing?” She rubbed her face into the pillow.

  I have to tell him. I have to. He’ll never forgive me if I don’t…

  Suddenly, Harper felt the room spinning. She pressed her palms over her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.” She scrambled to the bathroom.

  ~~

  Austin made his way out the front door of the B and B, feeling like his cock might actually bust through his button flies. He had no idea what it was about Marie that made him so incredibly fucking hot for her, but she did. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to get a woman into bed so badly. No doubt she was beautiful—short auburn hair, big green eyes, and a body that he’d give anything to see in a bikini.

  Bikini, my ass. Naked. I want to see her naked.

  But it wasn’t her looks that had him panting for her over dinner; it was that feisty-as-hell attitude. She had a pair of balls bigger than his own, and she had an opinion on everything. Frankly, he was sick of dating women who just smiled politely and said nice things, wanting to please him. Yes, he knew he was good-looking—something that hadn’t been the case in his younger years, which meant he’d taken full advantage of the benefits when he’d gone to college—but these last few years, he’d started to wonder why he’d never found anyone that made him want more: friendship, r
elationship, a life together.

  His ex-fiancée had seemed like that kind of woman, but after a few months, he’d begun to notice inconsistencies. She hadn’t enjoyed half of the things she’d claimed to like when they’d first met. Reading, going to the beach, wine tasting, traveling—she hadn’t liked any of them. Little did he know that had been the tip of the iceberg. She’d lied about where she grew up—not a city girl. She’d lied about having a degree—he’d never even cared about that, but she’d lied anyway. The final straw had been that she’d said she wanted kids someday when she really hadn’t. Bottom line, she’d lied her way into his life and was the fakest person he’d ever met. Dumping her had been the easiest breakup of his life. Getting over the deception, however, would take much longer. In fact, Austin was beginning to wonder if he’d ever trust another woman again.

  Until now.

  He smiled at himself as he opened the door to the small convenience-store-slash-gas station. Marie was just so…perfect. And honest. And genuine.

  He purchased a pack of gum, two large bottles of Gatorade—they were going to need hydration after the marathon of sex he planned to be having tonight—and two boxes of extra-large condoms.

  He hurried from the gas station and headed back toward the B and B, not even the slightest bit worried that the mood would fizzle. Hell, he was more in the mood now than before he left; the anticipation was killing him.

  Five minutes later he entered the B and B and was greeted by an older redheaded woman.

  She smiled. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

  “Oh. I’m, um…with Marie. On the third floor.”

  “Ah, you mean the young lady that checked into the honeymoon suite this afternoon?”

  He nodded, holding the bag in front of his groin, hoping the innkeeper wouldn’t notice his obvious arousal.

  The woman pulled out a sheet of paper. “Hmm…that’s odd. But we don’t have a Marie staying in that room. Are you certain you’re on the third floor?”