He grinned at her as he opened the door to The Breadery. “Oh, that’s just one weapon in our arsenal. I’m just getting started.”
Something had changed in Ben; something that made him a little more focused and intense. Maybe him using his skills for good was what he’d needed to move past the burnout he’d described. Unfortunately for her, this extra confidence made him even more appealing. She needed to ignore the way his grin made her want to kiss him.
“What do you want to get?” she asked, pushing that thought deep into the recesses of her brain where it would hopefully stay hidden.
He looked at the glass case. “Do they have apple fritters today? I heard they were good.”
“Not today.” Sean appeared behind the case. “Hi, guys. What can I get you?”
“Ben needs research sustenance,” Maeve informed him. “Lots of carbs.”
Sean grinned. “Carbs are our specialty. Take your pick.”
“Those scones look good.” Ben pointed to the second row of baked goods..
“They are. I use a Mexican spice blend straight from my in-laws.” Sean pulled out the tray. “How many can I get you?”
“I want one,” Maeve said. She’d had a few of the recipes Jess and Sean cooked up together and she wasn’t about to turn this one down.
“In that case, I’ll take two,” Ben said.
“My treat,” Maeve blurted. She hated that his finances were something he was sensitive about, but she couldn’t let him pay for stuff when she could easily afford it. “You’re working pro bono, remember?”
“Pro bono? You lawyering again?” Sean asked as he pulled out three scones and dropped them into a parchment-lined bag.
“He’s going to save Youth Mentors,” Maeve told the baker, ignoring Ben’s wince.
“Don’t jinx me,” he said.
She looked up at him in alarm. “Is that a thing?”
He laughed. “No, we’ll win.” His easy statement rolled over her like a wave of warmth. “But I haven’t even started my research yet. Let’s not show our hand all over town. No offense, Sean,” he added quickly.
“None taken. I won’t spill your secret to any other lawyers who come in here to buy scones,” Sean said dryly.
They took their orders to go and headed out to the town square, angling their walk toward where they’d started. “Are you heading back to help out?” Ben asked.
Maeve shrugged. “If Joan needs me. If not, I’ll drive over to the distillery and work on a few things there. You?”
“I should probably go back to the Bean. I kind of ran out of there.”
She blinked. “You what?”
“Yeah, I heard the lawyer who served Joan with the papers talking on his phone and he pissed me off so much I ran straight over to help.”
She laughed. “Not the noblest motivation, but I’ll take it. I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.” They were both silent for a moment. “What do you have going on this week?”
She thought over her schedule. “Meeting a distributor tomorrow, and then running a tasting the day after. Oh! I have a date on Thursday.” She looked up with a smile, waiting to share her excitement with him.
“A date?” He swallowed, and she realized she couldn’t identify the expression on his usually mobile face.
She nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt nervous talking to him about this, only that she did. But they were friends, and friends could talk about their dates, right?
“A guy at the deli asked me out. We’re going to meet at Frankie’s for drinks. I figure that way I’ve got built-in eyes on me in case he turns out to be a creep. And if he’s not, somebody can report back to Angelica and Naomi that they can lay off me.”
“You mean, if they don’t come barreling through the door to see for themselves within five minutes of you arriving.” He started walking again, and she skipped a couple of steps to catch up to his longer strides.
“Exactly.”
“So. Sex with a stranger?”
“A stranger of my choosing.” She mock shuddered and tucked her arm into his. “That was an awful night, although I’m glad we got to be friends because of it.”
“Our Mutual Embarrassment Society really panned out, huh?” His voice was still oddly rough.
“Sure did. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Got any dates lined up?” She was morbidly curious. He was clearly interested in sex, but drunk propositions aside, not with her. Friendship without benefits. Surely, then, he must be looking elsewhere.
“No. Nothing.” He answered her quickly, and his pace increased to the point where she was nearly running to keep up.
She grabbed his arm. “Whoa. Slow down.”
“Sorry.” He stopped completely. They were near her car. “Are you going inside or just heading out?”
She thought about it. Joan didn’t need her help to gather information, and she’d finished pretty much everything else. “I’m going over to the distillery.”
He nodded. “I’ll leave you here, then. Gotta go save my job and then get some research done.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
He shrugged. “The truth. The entire place went dead when that asshole started running his mouth.”
“Ben…” She swallowed. “You can’t really afford to take any time off, can you?” She knew he didn’t like to talk about his money. Or rather, his lack thereof.
He frowned. “I’ll make it work.” She opened her mouth, but he interrupted her with a sudden grin. “Maybe when I win this case, I’ll get a new lawyer job. Back in business, baby.” He nudged her elbow.
She was too frozen to respond. Ben wanted to work as a lawyer again? Taking on this one case to save Youth Mentors was one thing, but his old job had been the exact opposite. How could he want to go back? He’d said it himself; he’d been miserable. More than that, he’d been fired. Not that she thought he wanted to be a barista forever, but…she realized she had no idea what Ben’s future plans were.
Her heart plummeted. Maybe the man she’d gotten to know these past couple of months wasn’t the real Ben. What if her new friend was actually the midlife crisis version of him? Suddenly she felt like crying.
10
Ben pulled open the dirty glass door and stepped into the sparsely furnished office located in a strip mall on the industrial edge of town. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, and when they did he was gratified to see that even though the developer’s lawyer talked a big game, he worked in a shit hole. The room was practically empty, save for a large, dented metal desk, a fake, dusty plant, and a water dispenser that glugged every couple of seconds. It was the sort of place corporations begrudgingly rented for temporary minions who didn’t deserve better.
A door on the far end opened, and the other lawyer—who Ben recognized from a photo captioned ‘S. Smith’ on the Hartwell Properties website—stopped short.“Can I help you?” He tossed a rolled up magazine onto a folding chair just outside the door.
Charming.
Ben sauntered— strutted, actually—over to the man’s desk and dropped a manila folder filled with copies of the motions, counter-motions, and injunctions he’d spent the last two days filing on behalf of Youth Mentors. The bundle also included a notice from the EPA saying they were going to investigate the site to determine whether or not the nest Maeve had seen belonged to an American peregrine falcon. If so, these guys could kiss their River Hill condos goodbye. They might eventually be able to work through all the bureaucratic red tape Ben intended to create for them with the other motions he’d filed—things like historic property registration, property line contestation, and even a questionable lien on the city’s ownership of the property—but it would take months and no developer wanted to take on on that type of overhead. Even if they got through all of that, as a rule, developers did not want to tangle with animal rights activists. He knew this from first-hand experience.
“Wh
at’s that?” Smith asked, tilting his chin toward the envelope. “You’re not serving me with papers again, are you? If that bitch ex-girlfriend of mine wants child support—”
“Those, you asshole, are all the reasons why your boss should pull up stakes and build elsewhere.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“You sure about that?” Ben slid his hands into his pockets casually and rocked back on his heels. He’d dealt with guys like this before. He knew it was only a matter of time until the other man lost his shit. All he had to do was exercise a bit of patience. Thankfully, Ben had all the time in the world.
Smith pushed the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms and advanced on Ben with a scowl. “You sure you want to come into my place of business and put on this tough guy act with me? You don’t know who you’re fucking with.”
Actually, Ben did know, and he wasn’t the least bit frightened. He’d had no trouble at all finding out more about Hartwell’s S. Smith from a quick search of court records. As it turned out, this guy was notorious for making threats that he never actually backed up with action. He was a straight up bully who talked a big game and got people to back down through lies and intimidation. What he didn’t know, of course, was that Ben had already hit rock bottom. There was nothing this man could threaten him with that hadn’t already happened. For the first time since he’d been escorted out of that SoMa high rise, he felt free.
“You’re going to come into my office and insult me? Do you know who I am?” Smith was still ranting.
Ben stood his ground. “I know exactly who you are, and here’s a word of advice: the next time you roll into town intent on disrupting the fabric of the community, maybe keep your opinions about the yokels to yourself. Oh, and don’t steal other people’s coffee, Nancy.”
“Who the fuck is Nancy? Better yet, who the fuck are you?” He grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. After reviewing the top couple of pages, his angry gaze popped back up to meet Ben’s calm one. “What the hell is this? The goddamn EPA? Those hippies managed to find a lawyer stupid enough to take on their case?”
“No. They found one who was good enough to win their case.”
The other man glared at Ben for a few beats, his expression going from angry, to confused, and then finally recognition. “Wait a minute. You’re the coffee guy; you’re no lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer. I work at a coffee shop. Two separate things.” Ben turned on his heels and strolled toward the door, then paused. “Oh, before I forget. Make sure your client signs page ten. I wouldn’t want to have to sue them for negligence, too.” He pushed open the door and stepped out into the sunshine, leaving Smith sputtering behind him.
Ben chuckled as he climbed into his BMW, relishing the befuddled look on the other man’s face. Ever since he’d decided to help out Youth Mentors, he had been looking forward to using that line. Ed, an old show about a lawyer who’d lost his job in New York City and had moved home to Ohio to run a law firm out of a bowling alley, had been one of his favorites back in the day. In fact, it was the title character who’d made him want to become a lawyer in the first place.
God, he’d missed this.
Most people thought being a lawyer was boring. And it could be—all those hours of researching past cases for precedence, or searching the books for some obscure loophole they could use to get a case thrown out. But it could be exhilarating, too. In fact, Ben thought those long hours spent poring over legal tomes were all part of the thrill of the chase.
Just when you thought you’d hit a dead end, you’d dump another cup of coffee down your throat and dive back in, determined to find the thing that could be the difference between winning and losing your case. And then, bleary eyed and lacking sleep, you would, and all those hours hunched over a desk, your finger turning yellow from the highlighter you’d been gripping for hours on end, would be worth it. You’d saved the day. You’d walk into the office the next day, showered and freshly shaved, your thousand dollar suit molded to your body, and the team would clap and tell you what a badass you were.
Except now there was no office to go back to. He didn’t have a team of interns and junior associates who’d fawn all over him and tell him they couldn’t wait to be like him someday. There was no Michelin-starred restaurant the partners would take him to and pass him a hefty bonus. There was only his tiny studio apartment over Max’s garage, and Frankie’s, the nicest restaurant in a twenty mile radius, would have to do for his round of celebratory drinks.
And he definitely had something to celebrate. A horn blared behind him, and Ben snapped back to attention. He flipped on his blinker and turned toward home, his car shooting forward with purpose. For the first time in months, he knew what he wanted.
Ben practically ran up the stairs to his apartment, yanking his tie loose as he went. The suits—as good as they looked, and as much as they appealed to the opposite sex—were something he’d never learned to enjoy about being a lawyer. He was a t-shirts and jeans kind of guy. Always had been, always would be. As he pulled a soft, time-worn shirt he’d owned for over a decade on over his head, he took one final look at himself in the mirror and mussed his hair just so.
It was longer than it had ever been, but he kind of liked it. Briefly, he wondered if he’d have to get a haircut now that he’d decided to go back to work. Part of him hoped not. Whenever he imagined Maeve kissing him (which usually happened when he was standing naked in the shower), she was frequently fisting a hunk of his hair in her hands and tugging on it. Strange as it was, the fantasy of her pulling his hair was something he didn’t want to do away with by cutting it all off.
Fifteen minutes later, he opened the door to Frankie’s and scanned the crowd, his gaze landing on Max behind the bar mixing drinks while he chatted with Noah and Sean. With a spring in his step, he sailed through the crowd and pulled up a stool next to them. “Gentlemen.”
Max did a double take, and his eyes bounced between the other two men. “Hey. I thought you were busy tonight.”
He’d told his friends what he was doing, and they’d had a few notes about the historical relevance of the building that had been helpful. Sean had grown up in River Hill, and Noah and Max had lived here for a long time, so they’d been able to provide him with a few small details that Ben would have otherwise spent hours searching for. Not that he wouldn’t have found them, but he appreciated the help. More than appreciated it.
He reached for a printed menu. “I wrapped things up early. Turns out I still got it.”
“That sounds like a good thing.” There was a slight note of hesitation in Noah’s voice that Ben didn’t understand, and therefore chose to ignore.
“It’s a very good thing.” He finally felt like he had his mojo back. He finally felt like himself.
For months, he’d floated through life with nothing to ground him. The only thing he knew how to do was something he’d no longer wanted to. These guys, as awesome as they were, couldn’t understand that. With their James Beard awards and Wine Spectator accolades they were on top of their game—and they lived for it.
He paused and reconsidered that line of thinking. Sean could probably sympathize. After all, he’d been a hot shot record executive down in L.A. representing some of the biggest names in pop music before his life had imploded and he’d moved home to figure his shit out. Although unlike Ben and The Hollow Bean, The Breadery—and the former beauty queen he had met running past it each morning—had been exactly what Sean had needed to gain closure on that dark chapter of his life.
As far as Ben was concerned, once he wrapped things up here, if he never stepped foot in another hipster coffee shop for the rest of his life, it would be too soon.
“You should have seen the guy’s face,” he continued gleefully. “He didn’t know what hit him.”
“The EPA thing come through?” Noah asked.
“Sort of. They’re sending someone out next week to look at the nest, but the full investigation could take month
s, and it’ll be enough to give the developer second thoughts. No one wants to deal with animal rights activists. Those fuckers have nothing but time on their hands, and righteous indignation to fuel them.”
“Don’t be a dick.” Max shot him an exasperated glare.
Ben winced. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m not some uncaring asshole. I love nature, honestly. But developers hate dealing with that shit because it can tie a project up for years. And it turns out I love seeing those guys stymied. Besides, it’s for the children.” He smirked, and Max rolled his eyes as he poured Ben a drink.
He didn’t bother asking Ben what he wanted. They’d been born and raised in Portland—the answer was always craft beer. The more local, the better, and Max had a great one on draught.
“More like you’re doing it for Maeve,” Max muttered loudly, causing Noah to cough on the taco he’d been inhaling.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ben tried to paste an innocent look on his face.
“Sure you don’t,” Max said, passing him the beer.
“When did you guys get together?” Sean asked just before popping a chip into his mouth.
Ben stared down into his beer while he considered his answer. The epiphany about his career wasn’t the only one he’d had that afternoon. He’d also decided he was going to tell Maeve how he felt. She was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning, and the last face he pictured before he went to bed at night.
Unfortunately, he still didn’t know if they had a future together. And until he was sure he could be the man she needed, he didn’t want to start something he couldn’t finish. Max had been right: Maeve was a forever kind of girl, not someone you fucked around with while you figured your shit out.
“We’re not together,” he eventually said, catching Max’s eyes over the rim of his glass while taking a deep pull of his IPA. With that one look, he communicated a wealth of information to his lifelong best friend. Not yet. I hope.
Noah clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. “That’s probably good, since she just walked in with another guy.”
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