My eyes eat up every gorgeous bit of him in a matter of only a few seconds but when they travel back up to meet his, I don’t see anything other than exactly what I know my eyes are showing, too.
Heat.
Want.
Desire.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly, remembering my manners when it comes to him buying me a coffee and breakfast pastry. “But, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We wait patiently for our drinks as we’re handed our plastic-wrapped scones.
“These scones are amazing. Have you had them before?” I ask, feeling a little awkward because I don’t know what to say to him.
“I haven’t.”
“But you ordered one?”
He shrugs one of his strong shoulders. “I trust you.”
Those three words. They do something to me.
“Hopefully you aren’t disappointed,” I tell him, ducking my head.
When our coffees are handed to us, we both add a splash of half and half and put the lid on.
“You staying here or heading out?”
I was going to leave but if he’s staying, there’s no way I’m going to admit that.
“I think I’ll take it to that back table.”
“Want company?”
Absolutely.
“Sure,” I say, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.
Though, it is. A huge deal. Because girl code tells me I shouldn’t even want him, much less sit and have coffee with the guy who my friend used to date and who almost ruined her wedding reception. But, Hannah never was that good of a friend to me. In fact, when she asked me to be a bridesmaid, I was, and still am, ninety-five percent sure it was only because she wanted a certain number of bridesmaids standing up with her.
His answering chuckle tells me that he knows I’m not feeling nearly as nonchalant about us sharing a coffee as I’m trying to appear.
We settle at a table and I take the lid off my coffee, blowing lightly at the hot liquid before taking a large sip. It’s deliciously bitter and comforting and hot. When I was growing up, I thought that liking coffee meant I was an adult. I’d watch my parents drink coffee together in the morning to help them wake up. In the warmer months, they’d sit out on the deck and my sister and I would sit in the living room and watch cartoons through sleepy eyes and hair wild from sleep. In the colder months, they’d sit around the wood burning stove together that heated our home from the fire. They’d let us watch TV as long as we kept it quiet while they had their coffee. They never watched the morning news aside from a quick check for the weather, saying it put a damper on their day. Wouldn’t read the paper, either. I used to think that meant they were out of touch, but as I got older, I started to realize they were right. There’s rarely positive news being shared.
It was always Mama and Daddy’s time together, they called it, and my sister Erica and I would always say that when we found the guy to share coffee and breakfast with in the morning, we’d never let him go.
My sister found her forever guy a few years ago and I stood beside her as they pledged their lives to one another for life. She’s happy, and he’s perfect for her. And yes, they kept the tradition of morning coffee time together.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Brody’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts and I startle to realize that I have been staring at my coffee for who knows how long.
“Sorry,” I say, sheepishly.
“It’s okay. So… what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
He called me pretty. Or my head pretty, anyway. That tiny compliment makes me blush. To cover it, I bite my bottom lip and shake my head, letting my blonde hair whoosh around my shoulders. “You’ll think it’s weird.”
His eyes twinkle when he says, “Try me.” He takes a big and loud purposeful slurp of his coffee, grinning at his own obnoxiousness.
“You’re so mature.”
He waggles his eyebrows and bites into his scone with his white teeth. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind if I’m focusing on the man’s teeth. But they’re attractive. Not perfectly straight like he went through years of wearing braces, and for whatever reason, that makes them even more attractive to me.
“I know. Anyway, tell me what you were so distracted by.”
“Nothing. Just… memories, I guess.”
“Good memories?” he asks and takes another bite.
I bite into my own scone and almost close my eyes at the tender, soft texture of the pastry. They’re so delicious and I know I could make my own but I’m positive they wouldn’t taste even half as good. After I swallow my bite, I drink some coffee to wash it down and reply, “Of my parents.”
“Oh, yeah? How are Gina and Frank doing?”
The fact that he remembers my parents’ names kind of messes with my insides. Man, at one time I had it bad for Brody and apparently five minutes in his presence has brought all those feelings back to life. “They’re good. Great, actually. Frank is hoping to retire at the end of the year and Gina’s up to her usual antics.”
“Usual antics being looking at women’s you know whats all day long?”
“You know it.”
My mama is a labor and delivery nurse and loves working in the obstetrics department, being there when mothers bring babies into the world.
He grins that boyish grin that I love and shakes his head. “She’s crazy.”
“Nah. I mean, she is, but not because of that.”
He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on. Mama Gina isn’t crazy. Not like my mom.”
“Well, no. No one’s quite that crazy,” I tease.
“Fuck, right? She’s not gotten any better with age, either.”
“Yet, you love her.”
“I do. Though, did you know that Dad’s officially done? He asked for a divorce a few years ago.”
I reach across the table on instinct and grab his hand in mine. He immediately turns it over so our palms are touching. “I didn’t hear that. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t release my hand. “It was a long time coming. I mean, she wasn’t willing to change so he didn’t have a choice. He tried to love her through it but I guess it was just a deal breaker in the end. He thought that maybe if he threatened the divorce she’d stop, apparently not.”
“Is she still, you know…”
“Stealing? Oh, yeah,” he says, leaning back and releasing my hand to rub it across his jaw. “Little shit here and there, I’m sure. She wouldn’t stop when it came to losing her family so I doubt if now that she’s lost us she’s gone all noble and stopped. Dad hated it. It’s an addiction, you know. But Mama wouldn’t even try to stop. Dad begged her over and over again, but she said it made her happy. She’s lost all her friends.”
I flip my hand around and am embarrassed when a giggle slips out. “Well, yeah, I’m sure none of them really want her to come over for wine if they’re afraid she’s going to get sticky fingers in their house. I mean, if it were me, I wouldn’t want to even go shopping with her in case she took something and then I ended up being an accessory to her criminal ways.”