Simply thinking about dating made me queasy. Getting dressed up. Making small talk. Eating pretty food. But then I thought about Levi, dressed up. Levi, who I could talk to about absolutely anything. There were no awkward pauses with us. Well, other than tonight.
Damn it. A sigh escaped me before I could catch it.
Dad’s expression shifted to concerned. “I was going to ask you if flowers are too cliche, but maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you?”
“Get her flowers,” I said decisively. Dad wouldn’t get a second chance to do this right. At least one of us could get their love life off to a good start. “And wear a damn tie.”
Inez was worth it. But so was Levi.
Did Levi know that? Or did he think that I wanted to keep him hidden? He’d dared me to ask him to stay. And I hadn’t, and I still wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Thank you.” Dad returned my shoulder clap. “And maybe don’t mention this to your brothers yet?”
“I won’t,” I assured him as I followed him the rest of the way to his truck. “But, Dad?”
“Yeah?” Eyes wary, he turned to me after unlocking the doors.
“I really do hope it works out for you.”
“Well, there are no guarantees.” Holding my gaze, he matched my solemn tone. “But maybe I’m ready to hope again too.”
“Good.” I gave him a fast back-slapping hug before we parted, but his words lingered in my head.
No guarantees. Was that what I had been waiting for with Levi? A guarantee he wouldn’t leave? A sign that if I revealed my feelings, he’d return them?
Dad had been so sure that Inez would say yes to his invitation. Could I say the same? What if I asked Levi to apply for the job and he said no? What if he said yes and left again in six months, taking my heart with him?
Alone in my truck, I fished out my phone. I didn’t want to miss out on Levi. I wanted to be brave like my dad.
I hit dial.
No answer.
Not surprising. But now that I’d rediscovered my backbone, I wasn’t giving up. A text message wasn’t going to fix this. No, I knew what I had to do. And it was going to take coffee to do it right.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Levi
“I don’t wanna.” The preschooler stuck his lower lip out as he gave his harried father a murderous look.
Me too, kid. Me too. It had been a busy morning at Bold Brew. I’d almost called in sick, but I couldn’t do that to Ralph and the rest of the staff. They didn’t need to suffer simply because my love life was in shambles. But I absolutely identified with the cranky kid who didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to make a choice, and didn’t care if he was holding up the line.
While his dad patiently recited the menu choices, I resisted the urge to yawn. I’d barely slept the night before. Joe had called, but I hadn’t answered because I didn’t know what to say. He’d let me walk away. What more was there to talk about?
Except maybe everything.
But answering my phone would have required me to know what I wanted, and like the little kid in line here, I still didn’t have a clue. I wanted Joe to want me, to believe in us, but also to believe in himself, but those wishes were nebulous, not exactly a plan of action. Also, I had carefully focused all my hurt on Joe letting me walk away. I didn’t want to talk about the things he’d said about how I didn’t come to him with my worries. Or his belief that I only wanted some sort of revenge fling, a bodyguard tough guy type. I’d deep-cleaned the condo last night trying to outrun Joe’s voice. If I was the right guy for you, you’d tell me when you were upset about something.
I don’t wanna. I was being childish, but hell if I knew how to stop. And Joe hadn’t called back, hadn’t chased me down, which only added to my muddled, pouty mood.
“Fine. Then I’ll choose for you.” Rubbing his forehead, the dad had clearly reached the end of his patience with the kid. “We’ll have—”
“Strawberry smoothie!”
I had to hide a laugh as the kid finally spoke up. “Got it. Kid-size smoothie. And for you?”
“Quad shot iced mocha please.” The man sighed like he’d been to battle simply to get a straight answer from the kid.
Was that how Joe felt? Like I was a kid he had to coddle?
A stack of cups almost toppled over as I whirled around to start on the drinks order. I had way too much nervous energy for simple tasks. I might like Daddy Dom games in the bedroom, but I didn’t need a full-time caretaker. But maybe those lines had become blurred at some point, even in my own head. I loved exploring what it meant to be a brat with Joe, but neither of us needed bratty behavior when it came to working out a future together.
Maybe Joe had run out of patience, and that was why he’d let me walk away. And now I was like the kid with his smoothie order, finally realizing what I wanted when it was almost too late, and the choice had been yanked away. God, I hoped it wasn’t actually too late for me. For us.
I’d have to—
“Hey, Joe.” Blake gave a wave as the door chimed.
My heart fluttered even as my stomach twisted, a weird combination of joy and dread. He was here, and despite whatever plans I’d been making to track him down later, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
But Blake was ready, already reaching for a cup. “Your usual? Let me get it started.”
“Nah. I want something a little different.” Joe darted his gaze toward me. “And Levi can do it.”
“He’s finishing up another order.” Blake had the same soothing tone as that dad had with his kid.
“That’s okay. I can wait.” Looking like he had all the time in the world, Joe rolled his shoulders before stepping aside so Blake could get the next person in line.
Somehow I managed to serve the prior order with no mistakes or sloshing of the cups. The dad gave me a grateful smile as he led the kid away, but honestly, I should have been the one thanking them since they’d provided a much-needed kick.
But now I had to actually deal with said epiphany and figure out how to make things right with Joe.
“Hey.” I gulped. So smooth. The smoothest. “You…uh…new order?”
“I want the special.” Joe pointed at the board where Blake had put up the Drink of the Day.
The Picture Perfect was a complicated blended mocha with the cup coated with both caramel and chocolate drizzle, mocha blended with two chocolate syrups and caramel, topped with whip, more drizzle, but not too much or the whip would collapse, and a dusting of cocoa powder to finish. It was showy and way too easy to end up with a blobby mess.
“Oh. Blake’s the one—”
“You do it just as well as him.” Joe gave me an encouraging smile. “Better, even.”
“I’m not sure about that.” The back of my neck heated. “You trust me not to ruin it?”
“I do.” He met my gaze, eyes solemn.
I appreciated the gesture, but still, my hands shook as I started the drink. I wanted to get this right, prove his faith in me wasn’t misplaced. He didn’t need to always give me the easy tasks. And all summer, I’d been becoming better and better at the job. I could do this.