The Barista's Beloved (The River Hill Series Book 4)

by Rebecca Norinne

  Maeve grinned slyly as she headed for the front door. For once, the steamy scenes in the books they read had nothing on her real life sexy times. The smirky smiles that Angelica and Naomi—and even Jess, lately—exchanged whenever the subject came up had been pretty grating until she met Ben. Or rather, until she’d gotten naked with him. Being “just friends” had done a number on her vibrator. Thank goodness that drought was over.

  “Knock knock,” she called as she pushed open the unlocked door. “Anybody home?”

  “I’m not,” Noah said, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Ignore me, I’m on my way out.”

  “Not joining our discussion?” she teased.

  “I’ll email you my thoughts.” His tone was dry, and she laughed.

  “I look forward to it.”

  “You should; I’m very witty.”

  “Stop congratulating yourself and get out,” Angelica said from behind him. “If you’re not here to talk about romance novels, you’re not allowed to be here.”

  “I read the book,” he protested, to Maeve’s great surprise. She’d assumed he was joking.

  “But you don’t want to talk about it.” Angelica’s hands were on her hips, her brows drawn down into a frown that almost looked real.

  “Only to you. Preferably in bed.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then hoisted his leather folio under his arm. “Got distributor contracts to review tonight, and you don’t want to listen to me talking about that, either.”

  Maeve raised her hand. “I do.”

  He shot her a quick grin. “Don’t go poaching my distributors, you whiskey maven.”

  “It’s a completely different market! We could share!” Her fingers itched to see what was in his folder.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” He eased past her, holding the bundle high over her head. Noah Bradstone was a very tall man, and built rather like the side of a mountain. He easily evaded her, and she stuck her tongue out at him as he went out the front door.

  “Call Iain, at least!” she shouted after his retreating backside. “He’s very generous!”

  “I’ll say.” Naomi’s purring voice came from behind her, and Maeve turned to find the artist leaning casually against the archway that led into the front parlor, where they usually gathered for these meetings.

  Maeve held up her hand. “Whatever you’re thinking about is definitely not what I’m talking about.” Ignoring Naomi’s satisfied grin, she stalked past the other woman into the parlor and sank down onto one of the antique upholstered sofas. The last time they’d all gotten together—for Gilmore Girls night, a ritual where they let the show play in the background while they gossiped about each other and the town in general—Maeve had managed to avoid discussing what had happened with Ben, while Jess had waxed poetical about married life and Naomi had made gagging noises until they’d all been clutching their sides and gasping with laughter. Naomi and Iain were happily unmarried, and as far as anyone could tell, they intended to remain that way in perpetuity.

  Maeve had stopped discussing the matter of her brother’s love life with her parents—even though they brought it up about every other phone call. The Brennans had two other sons, both married with children, but their father frequently badgered Iain to “make things official” in front of a priest back home. Frankly, Iain’s relationship with Naomi seemed far healthier than their older brothers’ did, so Maeve couldn’t understand why their father refused to accept it as it was.

  The slam of the front door distracted her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Jess flying through the foyer carrying a stack of magazines and heading for the kitchen. Curious, Maeve rose and followed her.

  “These are the ones you asked for.” The pile of magazines slid out of Jess’s arms to land haphazardly over the kitchen island’s Carrera marble countertop.

  Despite not having a background in design, when Angelica had renovated this place, she’d done a beautiful job. The Oakwell Inn frequently appeared on the cover of both lifestyle and home renovation magazines. Of all the rooms here, the kitchen was Maeve’s favorite. She paused in the doorway as she almost always did, admiring the sunny space in front of her. While it looked like it had sprung from the pages of a magazine, the exquisite décor was made warm and welcoming by the fresh flowers scattered in vases throughout the room and bottles of Noah’s wine littering the countertops. In addition to the tasting room at the vineyard next door, the couple frequently hosted tastings and other events here. Maeve made a mental note that she should do the same. What was the use in having a friend with a perfectly-styled B&B if you couldn’t sell your whiskey there?

  She strolled further into the room to examine the magazines as Angelica began to gather them up. Oh. Bridal magazines, all of them. “What are these for?”

  “Planning my wedding,” Angelica said, giving her a strange look.

  “Oh. Oh, right.” Maeve flushed. She’d forgotten that Noah had finally convinced Angelica to set a date after Jess and Sean had surprised them all by eloping to Costa Rica.

  “And when you’re done, they’ll make lovely kindling for the fire pit,” Naomi said.

  “You can be as snarky as you want about it as long as you’ll design the invitations and menus,” Angelica told her.

  “Of course I will.” Naomi held her hand over her heart. “I’ll even give you a reduced rate. You know, for love.”

  “What a delight you are,” Angelica said dryly. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

  Naomi grinned. “Me too.” They exchanged blown kisses and chuckles.

  “Are we ready to talk about the book?” Jess asked. “Because I loved it. And I neeeeed to talk about some of those scenes.” She waggled her eyebrows so her friends would know exactly which ones she was referencing.

  “Grab the Chardonnay out of the fridge,” Angelica directed. “I conned some snacks out of Max, too.”

  “Does anyone pay for anything in this town?” Maeve wondered.

  “Coffee,” the other three women chorused.

  Maeve grinned, and finally dropped her bomb. “Speak for yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Really?”

  “Tell!”

  Maeve found herself driven back toward the parlor under an avalanche of shrieked inquisition. Laughing, she held up her hands in self defense. “I thought we were here to talk about the book!”

  “I’ll brain you with the book if you don’t spill!” Angelica waved her purple-covered copy threateningly as they all settled into their seats.

  “It’s possible I may have spent some quality time with River Hill’s finest barista,” Maeve said as modestly as she could manage.

  Naomi snorted. “River Hill’s worst barista, you mean.” By now, everyone had had a chance to try Ben’s services at The Hollow Bean.

  “Trust me, his coffee making skills were the last thing on my mind,” Maeve told her.

  “Last night?” Jess squeaked.

  Maeve shook her head. “Two nights ago. He took me to a rugby game.”

  Two blank looks greeted her and she turned to Naomi for help. “Surely you’ve gone.”

  Naomi nodded. “Iain and I went last summer when the Irish 7s were in town for that big tournament. He got the suite—ohhhhhh.” Her voice trailed off and she pinned Maeve with an accusing glare. “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Naughty girl.”

  “Very,” Maeve said smugly.

  “Can somebody fill me in?” Angelica asked, looking between them.

  “The Brennans sponsor a rugby team,” Naomi explained. “One of the perks of said sponsorship is the use of a very swanky hotel suite for any family members or high level executives who attend the matches. Since only Maeve and Iain are in America to make use of it ...” She looked away guiltily, and Maeve wondered if the whole idea of nepotism was something Naomi still struggled with. It had nearly been the undoing of her relationship with Iain back in their early days.

  “Wait, you had h
otel sex for your first sex? That’s setting the bar pretty high.” Jess giggled.

  Maeve felt herself flushing. “It, uh, wasn’t the first time we’d had sex.”

  More shrieking ensued, this time accusatory. “When?!”

  “You didn’t tell us!”

  “What’s the first rule of romance book club?”

  Maeve sighed. “Sex scenes come first.”

  Angelica shook a finger at her. “And that includes our personal lives.”

  “I know, I’m sorry!” Maeve tucked her feet up under her on the sofa and accepted a glass of wine. “The first time was after that date at Frankie’s.”

  “When he took you home? I knew it!” Jess whooped. “I told Sean he was going to make a move that night.”

  “Um, I made the move, actually.” Maeve’s cheeks heated again at the memory of her desperation. Thank God it had worked out.

  “You jumped him?”

  “Oh, yeah. Invited him in, never let him leave.” She shook off the bad part of the memory and grinned at Naomi. “I thought it was going to be a last hurrah for our friendship but in the morning he asked me out.”

  Angelica bounced in her chair. “Tell us about the sex! The sex is the important part!”

  Maeve laughed. “Does Noah know how much you tell us?”

  “Sean makes suggestions,” Jess said. “He says he wants to sound good for posterity.”

  They all laughed. Bolstered by the wine, Maeve let a few details slip.

  “I think I need to get a big fur rug,” Angelica said dreamily.

  “Do you think they sell them in bulk?” Jess asked.

  Naomi was the only one who seemed unmoved. She was watching Maeve with an odd expression on her face.

  “What?” Maeve asked.

  “What made you sleep with him?” Naomi asked bluntly.

  “Um, have you seen him?” Maeve gestured with her glass in a vague approximation of Ben’s Captain America-like physique, nearly spilling her wine on the sofa.

  “Yes, and you insisted on being just friends with him for ages—which included going out with somebody else.” Naomi’s brows drew down into a small frown. “Did you sleep with him just because you were lonely?”

  “No!” Maeve sat straight up and set her glass down on the coffee table. “No. I mean, I was. Some. But also he’s…great. Really great. Kind, and sweet, and supportive. Interesting, too.”

  Naomi’s lips thinned. “You know what he did for a living before he became a shitty barista though, right?”

  Maeve opened her mouth to defend Ben’s coffee-making skills, then decided not to bother. “Yes. He was a lawyer.”

  “A serious shark, Maeve. I Googled him.” Naomi bit her lip. “I used to know a lot of guys like him, back when I still hung out in my parents’ circle. Serious corporate types.”

  “That’s not him anymore, Naomi.”

  “Really? You think being a barista is going to keep a guy like that happy forever? Has he ever said he plans to stay here? Have you talked about the future at all?”

  “Naomi, relax,” Angelica said. “They’ve had one date.”

  “And a lot of sex,” Jess piped in helpfully.

  Maeve frowned. “Are you ever going to support anybody I choose to be with?”

  The other three exchanged glances and she found herself exhaling through sudden pain in her stomach, as though someone had punched her.

  “It’s just…we’re concerned,” Angelica said gently.

  “The last one—”

  Maeve interrupted Jess with a sharp movement of her hand, as though she were karate chopping the memory of Steve Smith away. “The last one was a mistake. We all know that. It doesn’t mean I have indiscriminately bad taste in men!”

  “Nobody’s saying you do,” Naomi said sharply. “What I’m saying is that corporate sharks don’t lose their teeth, Maeve. Don’t get bitten.”

  It was far too late for that, Maeve thought. Her blood was already in the water. If Ben was circling to devour her, he could have her.

  But was Naomi right? She’d blithely assumed their friendship would translate into a relationship that was on its way to becoming permanent. But now that she stopped to consider it, he’d never said he planned to stay in River Hill. And with the first inklings of dread, she recalled how happy he’d been to get his lawyerly mojo back when he’d started working on the Youth Mentors case.

  Suddenly, she wondered if she was just a stop on his road back to shark-infested waters. In that moment, she felt like a very, very small fish in a big, dangerous ocean.

  18

  “Hey, babe.” Ben laid a quick kiss on Maeve’s cheek as he stepped into her house and moved toward the kitchen at the back. In his left hand, he held a six-pack of beer he’d pilfered from Max before heading over, while in his right, he carried a bag filled with all the fixings for a barbeque for two.

  It was probably a bad idea for him to have spent so much on the two ribeyes now that he didn’t have a job, but he’d needed to do something to make himself feel better after getting fired the day before. Gorging himself on local, grass-fed beef seemed a hell of a lot smarter than drowning his sorrows in his girlfriend’s whiskey. Although now that he thought about it, he might want a bottle of it when he explained to her that he was once again jobless.

  “Ooh, what’s that?” she asked, following him into the room.

  He broke two of the cans off their plastic holder and passed one to Maeve before crouching down to root around in the refrigerator to make room for the rest. “Max’s friend did a collaboration with another brewery, and he dropped off a case last night to get feedback.” He popped to his feet and opened his can with a satisfying hiss. Swallowing down a few mouthfuls, he held the can out to inspect the label while the flavors settled on his tongue. “Not bad.”

  Maeve took a drink of her own, smacking her lips together lightly. “Is that lavender? And … chamomile? Yeah, definitely chamomile.”

  Ben laughed and twisted the can around to show her the brewer’s notes. He’d never get over how good she was at things like this.

  A couple of weeks ago, they’d been hanging out with Max, watching an episode of Top Chef since one of his friends was competing. For that episode’s ‘Quickfire’ challenge, the cheftestants were blindfolded while being timed to see how many flavors they could correctly identify. On the spot, the group had decided to test Max the same way using the nuts and spices he had in his kitchen. Then Max had challenged Maeve to see just how good her supposedly refined palate was. In the end, she’d surprised them all by identifying two more than he had.

  “I should have known you’d get it with just one sip.”

  She shot him a look of mock indignation. “Of course I did. My palate is extraordinary,” she said with a wink.

  He set the can to the side and wound his arms around her waist. Pulling her between his legs, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Everything about you is extraordinary.”

  Her eyes flicked upward, and their gazes locked. Neither of them spoke for a few protracted seconds. “Have I mentioned lately how much I like being able to hug you like this?” She sighed happily and nuzzled her cheek into his chest, her arms banding around him tighter. “I used to sit on my hands when I was around you because I was afraid I’d unconsciously reach out and just grab hold of you.”

  Ben smiled and caressed her hair, letting the fiery strands sift softly through his fingers. God, he loved her hair. Warmth washed over him as the thought flitted through his mind. It settled in his limbs, and radiated inward, suffusing his heart with a feeling of … rightness. In that moment, Ben realized it wasn’t only her hair that he loved. He was in love with her, too.

  He hadn’t meant for that to happen—had actively fought against it, in fact, knowing how unsuitable he was as a long-term partner for someone as successful and driven as Maeve—but somewhere along the way, he’d lost control of the situation. If he were being honest with himself, he’d probably fallen a little bit in
love with her that first night they’d met … when she’d indignantly dragged him out of The Oakwell Inn, declaring that she was going to take him home and have sex with him.

  He chuckled lightly, but the laughter died in his throat. With Maeve tucked snugly into his side, he’d nearly forgotten what a shit show the rest of his life currently was. If he’d been worried before about being good enough for her, now he was doubly so. He’d just been fired. A fact he hadn’t yet shared with her.

  “What’s so funny?” She lifted her head and glanced up at him curiously.

  “Nothing,” he said, brushing a few wayward strands of hair from her brow. “I just … I really like you, Maeve Brennan.”

  She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes turning misty. “I really like you too, Ben Worthington.” She canted her head to the side and studied him intently. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Ben blew out a long gust of air and loosened his hold on her.

  As if sensing his unease, Maeve took a step back and wrapped her arms protectively over her middle. “Is everything all right?”

  He looked up at her kitchen ceiling, trying to find the words to explain. Honestly, the only thing to do was to just spit it out. He met her gaze head-on. “I got fired yesterday.”

  “What?” She scrunched her eyebrows into a deep vee and pursed her lips. “How come?”

  He looked away. He didn’t want to admit that while he’d gotten better at his job since she’d had to send back whatever sludge he’d tried to serve her, he’d never really gotten good at it. The whole thing was too humiliating. “I think we both know that I was never really cut out to be a barista. They only gave me the job because Max called in a favor.”

  “What happened? I mean, why’d they fire you now?”