As I reach the threshold of her bedroom, it occurs to me that she still never asked for my name. Turning in the doorway, I press my hands against the frame. “By the way, my name is Levi.”
“Good morning.” I’m greeted by an overly chipper voice from an unfamiliar face wearing a bright smile.
I step up to the counter, my narrowed gaze falling to her name tag: Starr.
“What can I get you?” she chirps loudly.
I blink at her. The fuck is she so happy about this early in the morning?
A female snicker pulls my gaze to Hazel as she rounds the corner coming from the back. Hazel is the owner of Café by the Bay, which opened about a year ago after everyone’s favorite little breakfast bistro closed.
The place has been completely remodeled inside. The exposed brick walls, polished concrete floors, painted ductwork, and pendant lighting give the space an industrial vibe.
Bistro tables occupied by twentysomethings and their laptops are arranged on one side of the room. On the other side is a sitting area with three small velvet love seats in a deep purple arranged in a U shape, a small wooden coffee table situated between them.
The register is at the far end, and behind it is a counter lined with high-end coffee machines. A large clock, flanked by two chalkboards listing the day’s specials, hangs on the brick wall over the counter.
I’ve been coming in every day for the last few months. So, not only does Hazel know my order by heart, but she’s the highlight of my day. Prettier than any sunrise in Heritage Bay, and probably the only exception to my stupid rules.
Hazel is friendly to a fault, but she’s guarded. And because it’s part of my job to familiarize myself with the people of Heritage Bay, I know she’s been hurt in the past, maybe broken, and probably has enough baggage to fill my spare bedroom. However, I believe under that meek exterior is a woman who is strong because of her struggles.
A fighter.
Yeah, I like her, and if I wasn’t such a stubborn asshole, I’d ask her out.
I bet she’d be worth breaking all my rules.
I’m not damaged or opposed to relationships. I had a serious girlfriend back in high school. I thought Kiera was the love of my life, but what the fuck did I know? I was eighteen, and she was sixteen. When I left for the Marines, she was entering her junior year of high school. We wrote letters and talked on the phone whenever we could. We had plans to get married after she graduated, and she promised to wait for me. A year and a half later, I got my very own “Dear John” letter. She dumped me for some preppy fuck named after a car. Bentley. Last I heard, the two graduated and took off to travel the world. For all I know, she married the preppy fuck and had a bunch of his preppy little babies while I was rotting in the fucking desert.
Eventually, I got over her. Not that I had a choice. Since then, I’ve grown selfish, and up until last night, I’ve been picky about the women I spend time with.
Hazel isn’t the kind of woman you take home from the gym for a quick fuck. She’s the kind of woman who deserves picnics in the park on lazy Sundays. The woman you take home to meet your parents. She’s the kind of woman you marry. And because I can’t give her those things, I refuse to insert myself into her life that way. I like her way too much.
The last thing I want to do is hurt her. Then I’d have to get my coffee elsewhere, and I wouldn’t get to see that beautiful smile every morning.
Hazel’s style is different from the typical Heritage Bay women. My boss calls it boho chic. Her beautiful face is free of makeup except for a light tint of gloss on her lips. Her eyes are a mossy shade of green with flecks of gold—hazel, like her name. She’s a natural beauty. A unicorn.
Today she’s dressed in a loose-fitting white top and light-colored denim jeans with rips along the thighs and knees, slightly baggy but hugging her petite waist. Her long honey-blonde hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail and wrapped with a navy and purple printed scarf that’s tied at the nape of her neck. Large silver hoops dangle from her ears, a thick silver bracelet adorns her wrist, and both thumbs are layered with silver rings.
“Good morning, Levi.” She smiles as she moves over to the coffee station and begins putting my order together. “You’re earlier than usual today.”
“Yeah.” I left my apartment half an hour early this morning in order to avoid an awkward encounter with Christy. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Rough night?” She gives me a sly grin over her shoulder.
I’m not touching that. “Just a headache.” I press my index and middle fingers to my temples.
When I returned to my apartment last night, I took a hot shower, popped two ibuprofen, and fell into bed. This morning when I woke up, the headache had settled to a dull throb.
“Hold on for a second,” Hazel says before she heads to the back. A moment later, she returns and passes me a small cellophane bag with a light blue satin bow tied around the middle and two small glass bottles inside. “This is for boss lady.” She lowers her voice. “It’ll help with the nausea.”
My brows pinch together as I feign confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.” But then I mouth, “Thank you,” as I shove the package partially into the front pocket of my jeans.
“Try this for your headache.” She passes me a single bottle with ‘Peppermint Oil’ on the label. “Put a tiny bit on your finger and rub it on your temples. Trust me, it works. I get headaches often, and it works almost instantly. Sometimes even just a whiff of that stuff helps.”
I open the bottle and sniff. The peppermint scent punches my senses, sending a sharp coolness up my nose and even over my eyes. I jerk my head back slightly and blink. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” She smiles and goes back to finishing up my order.
“Where do you get this stuff?” I ask.
She looks at me over her shoulder.
Fuck my life, she’s so pretty.
“A family friend makes them.” She places my coffees in a drink tray and moves back to the register. “Two large black coffees, creamer on the side, and two chocolate, banana, and strawberry protein shakes, one with whipped cream and a cherry.” She slides the drink tray toward me.
My eyes flick to the new girl who’s been silently watching our exchange the entire time. Hazel turns to follow my gaze. “Oh, sorry.” She laughs softly and gestures to me. “Starr, this is Levi.” She reaches under the counter and pulls out a laminated paper, waving it around. “I keep his order under here just in case I’m not around.”
I chuckle as Hazel turns back to me.
“I feel special.” I smirk.
“You are.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles, making my damn heart flutter in my chest. “We’ve gotten a lot busier since the Starbucks relocated to downtown, so Starr is helping me out in the mornings, and I have another guy helping me out in the afternoons.”
“I’m glad business is going well for you.” I pick up my order from the counter and shoot her a wink. “See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it,” she replies with a wink of her own.
2
Hazel