Coffee Shop Girl

by Katie Cross

  She didn’t.

  “Life with her was just . . . too unstable. She flailed around, trying to figure out what was next. Find something. Her emotions swung on a pendulum. We lived out of her car, occasionally stopping at seedy hotels. She’d disappear at night and come back in the morning without explanation. Then we’d leave for another small town.

  “It wasn’t healthy for me, and I missed Dad. So, one day, while she was out, I found a payphone and called Pappa. Dad’s father. I just . . . I missed them. I wanted to know if Dad was still safe on the deployment or would be home soon. Pappa sounded so scared, so relieved to hear my voice. I remember thinking that something was wrong.

  “From there, I promised to keep calling and at least let them know I was okay. He asked me where I was, but I didn’t know. He told me to tell him what was around me. I remember reading license plates and hotel names and a restaurant. That’s when I realized Mama had lied. She’d told me Dad wanted me to go with her for a while. But she hadn’t told him anything. Just emptied the bank account and disappeared, having her lawyer send the divorce papers to him on deployment.”

  Maverick whistled low under his breath.

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but Pappa was trying to track me down. Dad came home early to find me when they realized I was just . . . gone. One day, Dad showed up while I was sleeping in the car, alone.”

  My voice felt far away as I recalled that night. The memories blurred, smudging like a dark blue sky seen through filthy car windows.

  The seat had smelled like rubbing alcohol and cigarette ashes, even though Mama didn’t smoke. Vaguely, I recalled her raven-black hair as it spilled over her shoulders. Her thin nose, broad smile, always tinged with something like terror. She’d loved me so much she almost couldn’t handle it.

  “What happened?” Maverick asked.

  “Dad showed up like some kind of knight. He pulled me out of the car and hugged me for probably ten minutes. I didn’t realize it then, but he was crying. So . . . relieved, I think.”

  Maverick’s thumb paused, then resumed, moving in a slow, comforting circle.

  “I can’t imagine the terror he felt, not knowing where you were,” he murmured.

  “Me either. We waited for Mama to come back. He didn’t let go of me the whole time. I was so relieved to see him, I cried for almost an hour. It was five hours later, at five in the morning, when she returned. They fought. Mama screamed, but she didn’t stop him from taking me. I think she wanted me to go, but she didn’t want to admit it.”

  Maverick watched me carefully now, showing nothing but genuine interest. Perhaps a little surprise. My mind churned for a moment. Did I want him to know all of this? No.

  But maybe, yes.

  Because who else did?

  No one alive. Because my team had died.

  “How did you feel?” he asked.

  “Sad, but relieved. Dad didn’t leave my sight for a week. I wouldn’t get in any car for over a month. I desperately missed Mama. Sometimes I woke up crying at night. At the same time, I never wanted to see her again. For some reason, the thought of her just made me angry and sad.”

  The battle of emotions in my little body had almost torn me apart. Missing Mom, but wishing for Dad. It was like I had no place to belong for a while. Floating in an in-between, trying to find purchase. Eventually, I settled into a routine with Dad, and then he became my world.

  Maverick leaned back, his fingers resting along the vertebrae at the top of my spine. My skin tingled all the way down my back.

  “Your mom recovered enough to marry Jim, it sounds like.”

  “Yes. Then had Lizbeth a few months later.”

  He quirked one eyebrow in question.

  I shrugged. “No, Mama didn’t love Jim. Jim gave her a safe place and steady food. She kept things running in the house while he worked the fields. She didn’t seem bothered by the hints of darkness in him.”

  Maverick tightened his fingers, pressing them into my skin. But it didn’t hurt. It felt more like a possessive caress.

  “Did he ever hurt you when you visited?”

  “No.”

  His subtle grip relaxed.

  “He never said much, not even to Lizbeth or Ellie. Lizbeth always tried. Ellie ignored him. He ignored her. Mama made up for everything Jim wasn’t. She was like a spirit with nowhere to wander.” Unable to stop now, I launched into the heart of the matter. “I was so jealous of Lizbeth and Ellie. They had her all the time in person. She laughed with them. Was carefree with them. When I had lived with her, everything had been so stressful. Minute to minute. Terrifying.”

  “Sounds like she was doing the best she could.”

  His compassion tugged at my heart. Only after her death was I better able to understand that. Her parents had died, and she had no siblings. There was a druggie aunt somewhere in Florida and a distant uncle who had cut ties and moved across the country. Neither came to her funeral.

  “She did,” I said softly.

  “What happened with your dad and his heart attack?” he finally asked, his expression puzzled, as if he wanted to put something together.

  “I came home for a weekend visit from college last fall, and he was sitting outside in the canoe, hunched over. When I got to his side, he could barely breathe. I called an ambulance. A helicopter came to take him to the hospital in Jackson City. He died in the middle of the ride.”

  “You clearly adored your father.” A hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Considering what you’re doing for his legacy.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. Mama I could talk about all day. I’d resigned myself to her death years ago. But Dad?

  I still couldn’t yield.

  “Life was so much better with Dad and Pappa. Between the two of them, I had stability and safety. They were my team. I think . . . I think I’ve been chasing it ever since,” I added quietly.

  He tilted his head back, looking outside. The span of silence allowed me to collect my frazzled, scattered thoughts. For half a second, this all felt like a huge mistake. He hadn’t asked for this. He was my business mentor. A coach. Sometimes, he felt more like a boss . . . but most of the time he felt like my friend. I’d just vomited my past all over him like a sick toddler.

  That was a friend thing, right?

  Maverick’s hand turned into an arm, and before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled me into him. All space between us evaporated, and so did the air in my lungs. The feeling of his body against mine was the first steady anchor I’d felt in the last eight months. I quickly curled into the proffered warmth with a sniffle, tucking my head under his chin.

  “Bethany, I . . .” He trailed off, unable to complete his thought. His loss of words soothed my prickly heart.

  “I know.”

  “This seems daunting.” He tightened his hold, which was already encompassing. “Straightening up this business and taking on two girls who need you, but it’s not more than you can handle. And you aren’t alone. You have a team again. This is all going to work. I promise. I can see it in my mind, and I’ve never lost when I’ve bet on my own ideas. We’ll make sure you can prove yourself to a judge before the end of summer.”

  I forced myself to lean back and meet his gaze. He meant it—I could tell. His certainty, the logical way he approached each problem, convinced me. My body sank shamelessly closer to him.

  “You really believe that.”

  “Really.”

  My eyes dropped to his lips. The next thing I knew was the searing heat of his lips on mine. All the blood left my body, replaced with fire. Maverick’s grip tightened on my arms, crushing me against him. My heart beat an uncertain, eager staccato.

  He tore away. “Bethany—”

  I closed my eyes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Never kiss a business consultant! “I’m sorry, I—”

  A hand slid up the side of my face until he palmed my cheek with a calloused hand. Seconds later, another kiss stole my br
eath. This one was soft. Gentle. Perhaps a little wary. It trapped me on this side of magic. I leaned into him until there was no more space in my head.

  Nothing but him.

  His fingers ran through my hair, rubbing my scalp. The scent of pine filled the air. I wanted to swim in it. In him. To pull this Viking’s arms around me and sink into an eternity. He pulled away slowly, our foreheads pressed together.

  “Don’t apologize.” He ran a thumb over my cheekbone. “Not for that. Not for what you told me. But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you in a vulnerable moment.”

  My eyes opened and locked on his. As surely as he sat before me, I knew I’d regret this later. When I couldn’t stop staring at him. When he went back to business mode.

  When he left.

  But for the love, I couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t see anything but him in that moment. Hear anything but the deep rumble of his early-morning voice. Couldn’t help but die a little in the light of his golden eyes. Absorb every molecule of heat from his touch. Like a woman locked in ice, about to meet fire.

  “Are you taking advantage of a vulnerable moment?” I whispered.

  “Not on purpose.” His breath caressed my cheek with a slight smile. Sweet mint, as potent as his kiss. “I’ve wanted it for a while.”

  “Me too. But what do we do now?”

  His lips parted, but no sound came out. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  My heart bounced around my rib cage like it wanted to fly free. If I strapped him down, would he just disappear? Was it even fair of me to ask this question so soon? We were supposed to be two professionals saving a store. Not two hearts trying to save each other.

  “Why don’t we just . . . let it be whatever it is for now,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest. A shiver moved through him.

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “No . . . rules. No . . .”

  “Expectations?”

  “Not yet.”

  Of course, I’d build expectations. I’d already fallen hard for him. Already longed to breathe him in and never let him go. But it would be worse to hold him at arm’s length and never know what we could have had. Broken hearts mended. I knew that by experience.

  He was a minimalist. An emotional runner. Commitment, on some level, seemed to frighten him. Why else would he run away from whatever he’d left?

  In order to have him, I had to put away all expectations.

  “Bethany, I will leave. I won’t stay here and—”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want to let this be?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “There’s no way to stop yourself from creating unconscious expectations, and that’s a breeding ground for pain and disappointment. This doesn’t sound wise.”

  “I know.”

  He pulled back to study me. “Then why are you doing this? I don’t want to hurt you. To get attached and then leave? It’s . . . heartless.”

  A thundercloud overtook my mind. I scooted back a little. What if I had read this all wrong from the beginning?

  “Are you not interested?”

  His hands tightened around my arms. “Of course I’m interested. But I’m not looking for commitment. What if you feel something and . . . and I break your heart?”

  “Then that will be my problem. It will suck if you leave, but not as much as never knowing, right?”

  Not as much as never having this. Besides, people had been loving and leaving me my whole life. This was a world I knew very well.

  Maverick’s troubled expression only deepened. “Maybe,” he finally said. “No expectations? I leave whenever I leave, and you won’t hate me for it?”

  I nodded once, dizzy with the movement. One day, I would hate myself for this. But right now, I couldn’t see that day. I saw only this one.

  “You’re worth it,” I whispered.

  All the space between us vanished as he kissed me senseless again. I left behind the loneliness of my life to fade into the unexpected heat of his kiss.

  No matter how much it would hurt later, it was already worth it.

  Right now.

  22

  Maverick

  After a kiss that would sear itself in my memory for the rest of my life, Bethany wrapped her arms around me and snuggled into my chest. She remained there, tucked shamelessly against me, as the night faded into morning. Cars drove past. A few people peered inside the closed store. She held me so tight, I thought she’d crawl inside me if I let her.

  Wrapping my arms around her felt natural. I held her longer than was appropriate, because none of this was truly appropriate. Why would she set herself up for heartbreak? Let a visceral exchange of emotion happen when there was an expiration date on us?

  She was either very brave, or very stupid.

  While I worried about her, relief also flooded me. I wanted her to crawl into me. Wanted it in a way that made me feel things I hadn’t felt for any woman ever. Protectiveness. Uncertainty. Unequivocal attraction. Things that stirred my chest and gut. I didn’t like it. I’d officially stuck myself in this spot by agreeing to her audacious request.

  Rock, meet hard place.

  Mallory was right. Love ain’t easy.

  When Bethany pulled away, hazy from fatigue, I pushed a strand of hair out of her face. Even though this was wrong, my arms stayed locked around her. Willing and reckless or not, her heartbreak would be my fault.

  “Jim isn’t going to come back for a while,” I said. “You bought some time yesterday, so we’ll figure this out together, all right?”

  Her fear faded. She seemed to regain her strength and solidity. The moment she pulled away, I felt regret, but let her go. She fit, and no one had ever fit.

  She tilted her head back and smiled softly, utter adoration in her gaze.

  How could she be so openly vulnerable? What kind of courage did it take to feel without restraint like this? I stared at her in a mixture of terror and awe. Even my own father’s death hadn’t inspired this level of honesty and emotion in me.

  Years in the corporate sector had introduced me to world leaders. Billionaires. Millionaires. Fools and geniuses. Only Bethany made me marvel.

  Those lips moved barely an inch from mine. Her smoky gaze, clouded with bottled adrenaline, captured me. Her kiss revealed a part of her that everybody caught glimpses of, but I wanted totally. Passion. A compulsive nature. An undeniable loyalty to whatever felt right in that moment. I wanted to draw the truth out of her and make it mine, like the swapping of souls.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to mine.

  “Thank you, Maverick.”

  I held her closer, totally unable to speak.

  Bethany attacked the rest of that day with undeniable energy.

  Even Lizbeth watched her, one eyebrow quirked, from over the top of her book. Bethany had found her stride again. Even tired, this woman was unstoppable.

  While she stuffed pages of something into a binder and muttered a list of things left to do under her breath, I made notes in a spreadsheet and tried to keep my mind focused. My assistant was waiting for me to review three modules he’d put together. For the life of me, I kept rereading the same line.

  Bethany’s bright eyes intruded on my mind. Soft lips. The heat in my belly flared again and again when I thought about that kiss.

  I shouldn’t have done it.

  Could not have stopped it.

  Definitely wouldn’t take it back.

  Today, she didn’t even try to hide her distraction. Every now and then she’d stop, stare into the distance, look up at me, and grin. My stomach felt like I’d been on a roller coaster all day.

  I didn’t need to be at the shop this long. The module approval could be done tomorrow, and I’d mostly been staring at my inbox. But I couldn’t seem to stop watching her move about her life. The little things fascinated me the most. When she wore th
e baseball hat, then took it off. Then lost it and spent a few minutes searching, only to realize she’d stuffed it in her apron pocket.

  Or the way she reflexively reached for her lipstick. Didn’t always use it, but held it when she felt a moment of uncertainty.

  Her conversations with Lizbeth. Quick smiles for everyone. The way she lit up around people.

  Finally, around noon, she tossed a wet towel into the sink and headed my way. She’d changed into a turquoise summer dress and white flip-flops. A binder landed in front of me with a heavy thud. I jerked out of inappropriate thoughts. Bethany stood next to the table, a hand on her cocked, curved hip.

  “Is this what I think it is?” I drawled.

  “Potentially. It’s hard to know what’s in your mind, Mav. Lizbeth is scouring Pinterest for a ‘really cute design that matches the general decor.’ Because, ‘Bethany, don’t be a caveman. It all must match.’”

  Lizbeth, across the room, snorted.

  I laughed and peeled it open to see the first page.

  * * *

  THE FROLICKING MOOSE OPERATIONS MANUAL

  * * *

  The next page revealed a neatly typed table of contents, with the Frolicking Moose logo on the top of the page and a blocky, western font that matched.

  Organized words filled every page. Proofread, no typos, in order, and with helpful markings to indicate when one standard operating procedure referred to another one. She must have finished writing it last night and printed it out this morning.

  “I have an online version and this one, just in case the internet is down or the barista can’t get to my computer. Lizbeth has volunteered to be in charge of monthly update audits, which makes both of us ridiculously happy because, frankly, the word audit makes me want to scream.”

  Pride swelled within me as I ran my eyes over page after page. She’d not only managed it, but she’d done well. Beyond what I’d ever imagined. In fact, she’d given me a great gift.