Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Finn
It’s late and I’m ready to fall face first into my bed. Running your own business while employing two college student baristas is exhausting .
At thirty-five years old, I’m feeling the effects of being on my feet all day. My ankles make a mildly concerning crackle as I shuffle to the medicine cabinet for some ibuprofen. From across the bedroom, my phone chimes and my head whips in that direction. Who is texting me this late?
Frank’s sound asleep, his soft snores filling the room. Hobbling over, I reach for my phone and see a text from Charlie.
Charlie
Don’t forget to water those plants of yours. Some of them are really finicky.
Shit. I’m supposed to water them? I thought they were in those innovative self-watering pots. What kind of plant store are you running?
Charlie
Griffin, please tell me you’re joking.
Charlotte, of course, I am. I set reminders on my phone to check on them weekly. And if I have an issue with them, I know of a girl who could help . . .
Charlie
Eh. Don’t be so sure of that.
Now that you know that I water responsibly, what are you and Vera up to?
Charlie
My brother and sister just left, so I’m finally able to decompress. Vera is snoring—out cold to the world. I’m reading a book.
Oh? What are you reading?
Charlie
No. Ask a different question.
Come on. Tell me!
Charlie
What are you and Frank doing?
Charlotte (I’m not sure what your middle and last name are, so let’s pretend I’m using your full legal name), do not deflect by changing the subject. I see what you’re doing.
Charlie
Charlotte Rose Thorne.
Wow. That’s the most fitting name I’ve ever heard of.
Charlie
Number one, rude. Number two, my parents came up with it one night after smoking too much weed at a music festival. They wrote it on the back of a McDonald’s receipt so that they wouldn’t forget it.
Oops. I lied. It wasn’t weed. It was shrooms. I texted my sister and had it fact-checked.
I’m laughing hard enough that Frank wakes up. Of course, the beautiful, grumpy girl with warm brown eyes has the most interesting name, with a wild story attached to it.
Wow. So, if you had to identify with any flower . . .
Charlie
Weigh your words carefully, Griffin (I also don’t know your last name).
West is my last name. *Winking Emoji*
Charlie
Weigh your words carefully, West.
I’m just saying. Albeit prickly and thorny, the rose is thought to be one of the most beautiful flowers in the world.
Charlie
Are you trying to flirt with me?
Is it working?
Charlie
Goodnight, Finn.
I smile. Slowly but surely, she’s lowering her walls, one inch at a time. Being patient has always been one of my best qualities. With Charlie, I’ll gladly take whatever is developing between us at whatever pace is most comfortable for her.
Knowing better than to push my luck, I send a simple goodnight message back to her.
Goodnight, Charlie.
I’ve spent the entire week eagerly anticipating my walk with Charlie, and the day has finally arrived. Although the town is small, I haven’t seen her around much, besides a quick sighting from afar at the park where she walks Vera during the day. Even then, I didn’t want to disturb her—it looked like she was sitting on a bench, either deep in thought or decompressing.
Annoyingly, I haven’t dropped off any new drinks to her since I haven’t had a single breather at the café. We’re one staff member short, which means I’m doing two people’s jobs this week.
But today’s morning rush of customers has slowly died down to the point that I can make a quick escape. After I prepare Charlie’s drink, I look over at Joe, the scrawny barista, and tell him I’m running a quick errand. Careful not to spill her drink on my favorite sweater vest, I walk down the street until I find myself standing in front of A New Leaf.
When I open the door, Charlie’s laughter fills the store and I see that she and a customer are deep in discussion. She has an air of approachability about her—something she doesn’t often show to others.
She notices my staring and raises her brows, not breaking conversation with the customer. Finally acknowledging the tall dude loitering in the corner of her store, she lifts her hand in my direction, making a ‘give me a minute’ gesture. A few minutes later, the customer thanks Charlie and leaves the store.
She blows out a deep sigh when the customer can no longer be seen from the store windows. With one hand in my pocket, I stroll over to her, a bemused expression on my face.
“Did I just witness you laughing with a customer? And making small talk?” I joke.
Those big brown eyes give me their signature roll. “Oh, stop it. I can turn on the charm when needed. My social battery just depletes a little faster.” She playfully slaps my bicep, and my heart momentarily skips in my chest.
“But you still hate it, right? Making pleasantries with innocent townsfolk?” I adjust my glasses, silently begging the universe for them not to fog up. A tingling sensation runs down my arm, a lingering reminder of her delicate touch.
Her tone is flat when she replies, “With every single fiber of my being, West. Every. Single. Fiber.” She walks over to her laptop, types something, and then looks back to me. “Where’ve you been this whole week? I haven’t seen you at all.”
“Have you missed me that much?”
Scoffing, she replies, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gumby. You’re kind of hard to miss.” One side of her mouth quirks up, and her fingers go back to typing at rapid fire on her computer.
I hum. “So that’s your way of saying you miss me. Got it. I’m really starting to understand how to translate your ‘Charlieisms.’”
The clicks on the keyboard abruptly stop and she looks up at me through her dark eyelashes. We don’t break eye contact until we both begin to laugh.
“Here, I brought this for you,” I say, setting the cup on the counter. I drew a small leaf smiling on the cardboard sleeve, and when she notices my excellent art skills ( that haven’t progressed past the age of five ) she smirks.
“Cute.” She brings the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. Her nose wrinkles in disgust.
Completely ignoring her facial expression, I’m entranced by the way her alluring lips wrap around the edge of the cup. They look soft, supple, and kissable. It’s surprising how many illegal activities I’d be willing to commit just for the opportunity to kiss her once in this lifetime.
If I keep going down this path of thoughts, then my glasses will be fogging up again.
Clearing my throat, I watch her carefully. “So? What do you think?”
“Oh, it’s disgusting,” she replies matter-of-factly, placing the cup back down on the counter.
“Please, for the sake of my ego, tell me how you really feel.” I grab the cup and take a sip, not missing the way her eyes drop to my lips. This is a good sign. I like this. Maybe my flirting is working after all. Her eyes drop down to my neck, tracing how my throat moves as I take another drink from the cup.
“Since I know you’ll most likely dump it out, I’ll take this back with me.”
She looks slightly disappointed as her eyes dart to the coffee sleeve and the drawing on it. Picking up on subtle cues is the quality that I’m most proud to have. Right now, from my point of view, Charlie wants the drawing I created for her.
I attempt to hide my smile, take the sleeve off the cup, and nonchalantly say, “Do you have a trash can somewhere? I just want to toss this since I don’t need it, and it keeps slipping.” Hoping she catches on to what I’m trying to do, I hold the sleeve out for her to take.
Something flashes in her eyes, and her normally guarded eyes soften briefly for a moment.
“Yeah, I’ll take it. Just hand it to me.” She reaches out, taking the small piece of cardboard from me. As she does, our fingers brush against one another. She’s soft and warm, and I want nothing more than to hold her hand.
Her eyes brighten when she looks down at the coffee sleeve, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Well, Miss Thorne, I’ll see you tonight?” I ask, hoping and praying to a higher power that she remembers our planned Friday-night walk.
She lifts her gaze to me, and a softness settles over her features. “You know where to find me,” she says.