Quit Playing Games with My Heart (Common Grounds #2)

Chapter 1

Brian

Common Grounds café was the happiest place on earth.

I didn’t care what other businesses or theme parks claimed that title, none of them could hold a candle to the cozy atmosphere and family feeling that the Meyers family had cultivated in that modest space in the heart of Glenside, Pennsylvania.

It had certainly become my haven in the last couple of years, and because of that, I was devoted to the place.

I was devoted to the place for a couple of reasons.

“I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me,” Sam Meyers announced as he crossed from whatever he’d been doing in the event space at the back of the café, through the back of the counter area, where his brother and my best friend, Diccon, was working the register for the morning rush and where I was preparing everyone’s coffee orders, and out the other side toward the green-painted office door.

“Morning,” I greeted Sam with a smile that was probably way too big and goofy for quarter-to-nine in the morning. I couldn’t help it, though. Samwise Meyers and all his six-foot-two, wavy chestnut-brown hair, and soulful brown eyes, was perfection.

As if my words had snagged him like a splinter on the corner of the counter, Sam turned back and smiled at me, warm but slightly uneasy. “Morning, Brian,” he said, nodded, then walked on.

My grin grew, the buzzing feeling in my gut growing with it. I loved it when Sam paused to wish me a good morning.

“Oh my God,” Hannah snorted from her kitchen on the other side of the half wall behind the coffee machines, where I had another espresso I needed to finish making. When I glanced to her, she rolled her eyes.

“What?” I asked, defensive, but with a smile. Hannah was another of my best friends, and whatever had put that look on her face, I knew it was out of love.

She didn’t answer, partially because a timer went off in her kitchen. She just fixed me with a flat look, shook her head, then stepped over to her oven to take whatever muffins or pastries she was baking out, muttering something about getting a room.

I wasn’t stupid, although that accusation had been thrown at me so many times that I could feel my shoulders bunch anytime anyone so much as whispered the word ‘stupid’.

I knew what had Hannah rolling her eyes.

I wasn’t all that subtle when it came to my crush on Sam.

I wasn’t very subtle about a lot of things.

So far, I’d managed to convince everyone it was nothing serious and nothing I would ever do anything about.

So far.

Most importantly, I’d managed to convince myself.

And I really wasn’t going to do anything about it.

Sam Meyers was way, way too good for me.

He was the older guy, though only older by five or six years, and he was gorgeous.

He was a business owner with plans to expand Common Grounds to a second location nearby.

He could have any man he wanted, so why would he want me?

“Caramel macchiato with chocolate sprinkles,” Diccon called out the latest order from the front of the counter, as was our tradition at the café.

“Caramel macchiato with chocolate sprinkles!” I echoed like I always did, which put a smile on the faces of the regulars who came in every morning not only for their coffee, but to watch us all have fun.

“Caramel macchiato with—” Hannah’s beautifully sung response was cut off by the sound of a jackhammer just outside the café. It was sudden, loud, and incredibly grating.

The call and response, along with some of the conversations people were having in line or at the tables in the front half of the café stopped.

More than a few of us glanced toward the café’s large front windows.

The jackhammer was out of sight, but a full half of the area directly outside the café had been blocked off by ugly, neon-orange construction barriers.

The windows on one side were dusty with dirt from work on the new extension to the shopping strip that was going up next door.

“That’s a bit of a pain, isn’t it,” Linda, one of Common Grounds’ regulars, said from the line. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the jackhammer starting up after a brief pause.

“It’s more than a pain,” Diccon admitted with a sigh, glancing wistfully out the front window.

He was putting it mildly. We’d all known that construction of the new shop would be a disruption for the café.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t warned us, but having a meeting with the manager and foreman of the job, Kyle Jameson, all about how long construction would run, which roads would be blocked off, and how accessibility to the café would change was one thing.

Actually living through the chaos was another.

I finished making Linda’s drink, but when I handed it across the counter to her, I noticed one of the guys waiting near the back of the line frowned in annoyance at the racket outside, then turned and left without ordering.

A pair of women who were sitting in one of the booths by the window got up to leave as well.

And the jackhammer played on.

I sent Diccon a concerned look as Linda headed out with her coffee. He met that look and returned it with equal wariness, then asked the next customer, “What can I get for you?”

“Just a latte with an extra shot of—” The man’s order was cut off by another burst of noise. It felt like the entire café held its breath until the noise stopped and he could say, “Espresso.”

“Latte with an extra shot,” Diccon called out, his usual sunny enthusiasm dimmed a little.

“Latte with an extra shot,” I echoed and got to work on the order.

“Latte, and I’m going to give someone an extra shot if they don’t shut up,” Hannah called from the kitchen.

I smiled at her passion and heaved a small sigh.

It wasn’t like there was anything I could do about the noise from the construction.

It was just something we had to live with until the job was done and the new store was in place.

Diccon’s boyfriend, Theo, who was the chief architect of the project, insisted that once the new store was done and opened, it would bring in a lot of foot traffic for Common Grounds.

Foot traffic that was missing completely right now.

“It’s not even nine-thirty yet,” Diccon said a little bit later, when the usually epic line had dwindled down to just a few people, then no one at all. “The café shouldn’t be this empty until after ten at least.”

I turned away from the coffeemaker that I’d been wiping down and looked around the frighteningly empty space of the café. “Maybe it’s just a slow day everywhere,” I said, though I didn’t really believe that.

Diccon leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and frowning out the window, where we could see a bulldozer moving what must have been the material that the jackhammer had just displaced.

“The changes that Theo and I suggested for this whole thing were supposed to diminish the noise and inconvenience.”

“This might be diminished,” Hannah said, leaning on the half wall with a sigh. “I’ve heard of construction projects being way more intrusive and putting people out of business entirely. Isn’t that what you said happened to that place you worked in Pittsburgh, Bri?”

I flinched a little. It wasn’t just the word ‘stupid’ that made me edgy as a rule. Anything about Pittsburgh caused some sort of stress reaction in me. And who could blame me after everything I’d gone through there?

“Something like that,” I said, not wanting to dwell on it. I turned back to give the already clean coffeemaker and espresso machine another wipe down just to have something to distract myself.

“Well, I’m not going to let this place go down without a fight,” Diccon said. “Common Grounds is more than just a business. It’s a community hub and a place for people to go to enjoy themselves and feel like they have a tribe.”

“Damn straight, boss,” Hannah said, perking up a little before she turned back to her kitchen.

I smiled despite the underlying tension gnawing at my gut. Common Grounds was all those things. At least, it was to me. It was so much more than just a job, although the job had come along exactly when I’d needed it.

I hadn’t been planning to make a home in Glenside.

I hadn’t really known what I was doing three years ago when I packed a single suitcase in a fit of grief and humiliation, left my parents’ house without looking back, and hopped on the train to Philly.

Back then, I’d thought all I needed was a few months away from the disappointment I’d caused and the anger and pity that had been directed at me.

I figured I’d get a throw-away job, earn a little money, then go home to face my fears and try again.

Except the job I’d found had been as a barista at Common Grounds, and the friends I’d made here had been more accepting and supportive of me than my family or friends back home had ever been.

Sam had hired me even though I had no experience working pretty much anywhere.

I’d managed to sail through training with minimal problems, which was a small miracle, and I’d proven myself to be an excellent barista.

And in all that time, none of my new friends or coworkers, except Diccon, had discovered my secret.

We had a full ten minutes of relief from the jackhammer. A couple more customers had come in, allowing us to get the mood of the café back where it usually was with our call and response routine. The smells coming from Hannah’s kitchen were mouthwateringly good. Everything seemed almost normal.

And then the noise started up again.

Two seconds later, the office door flew open and Sam marched into the front of the café with a scowl that could freeze lesser men in their boots.