Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
J ed pushed open the door to The Bean Barn, his favorite neighborhood coffee shop. The bell above the door gave a little jingle, and the warmth inside offered a welcome reprieve from the cool morning air. This was his ritual—come in, get his usual black coffee, and try to get through the day without too many interruptions.
As usual, his regularly scheduled program was to be interrupted.
No sooner had he stepped up to the counter than he caught the bright smile of Sarah, the barista. She was leaning on the counter, blinking profusely at him. She always made him think of that scene in Indiana Jones when the student had written Love You on her eyelids when Professor Jones was lecturing.
Sarah didn't bother with the written word. No, she said everything that was on her mind. Out loud. Loud enough for the butcher next door to hear.
“Well, if it isn’t the Culinary Casanova,” she teased, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. Her voice carried far enough that a coffee-drinker on the way to his car outside looked over his shoulder. “Back for your usual? Or should I surprise you with something sweet today?”
“Just the usual, Sarah. Black coffee. I’ve got enough sweetness in my life.”
She winked, not missing a beat. “You sure about that? I’ve got a couple of new blends you might like—strong but with a little sugar on the side. Just like me.”
Jed tried to hide his pained smile. It was getting harder and harder for him to fake interest. “Appreciate the offer, but I’ll stick to what's on the menu.”
Sarah scribbled his order with a smile that lingered just a second too long. Jed stepped back into the waiting crowd, grateful for a brief moment of solitude. He glanced at the chalkboard near the window. The colorful script displayed specials he'd seen each week. There was nothing new. Which was fine. He liked routine. He took comfort in the familiar scents of the shop—roasted coffee beans, a hint of cinnamon, warm and buttery pastries, probably fresh out of the oven.
The sound of heels clicking on the tile behind him caught his attention. “Jed Winchester, is that you?”
Standing behind him was the mother of a friend from high school. Jed relaxed instantly, his polite smile turning into something more genuine.
“Mrs. Lawson,” he greeted warmly, extending his hand. “How have you been?”
“Divorced, that's how I am.” She waved his hand away and wrapped her arms around his middle. Then moved her hands a bit lower. Too low. A little too familiar. “You’ve grown up so well, Jed. The talk of the town these days with that restaurant of yours.”
“You should come by sometime. I’ll set you up with the best seat in the house.” Jed tried to back up out of her embrace, but felt a squeeze in his seat.
Mrs. Lawson’s eyes sparkled as she patted his arm and then squeezed his biceps. “You always were such a charmer. What do you think about coming over and using my stove? My burners heat up real good.”
Jed took a long step back. The woman was still all arms. She reached for him again. Sarah's voice rang out, and Jed had never been so glad to hear the boom of the barista's voice.
“Jed, your coffee’s ready.”
Saved by the caffeine.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Lawson,” he said quickly, nodding toward the counter. “Gotta grab my coffee before it gets cold.”
“Don't forget about my offer,” she said, giving him a knowing smile. “I'd love to sample some of your homemade cooking.”
Jed offered a quick wave, his relief short-lived as he turned to grab his coffee. Just as he reached for the cup, an elderly voice called out from the doorway.
“Jed, honey!”
He turned, feeling his escape route slip away. Mrs. Pendergast, his sweet elderly neighbor, was making a beeline for him, her cane tapping against the floor as she approached. The older woman’s bright eyes twinkled with delight.
“Morning, Mrs. Pendergast,” Jed greeted, already preparing himself for what was coming.
“I was just telling my granddaughter about you the other day,” Mrs. Pendergast said, her tone as sugary sweet as the cookies she baked every week. “She’s such a lovely girl and single, too. You should come over for dinner sometime.”
Jed smiled tightly, stepping backward toward the door with his coffee in hand. “You know, that sounds great, Mrs. Pendergast, but I’m, uh, really busy these days. Restaurant’s keeping me on my toes.”
“Nonsense,” she said, waving off his excuse. “You’ve gotta make time for love, Jed. A boy like you shouldn’t be single.”
Jed edged closer to the door, walking backward and trying not to spill his coffee while holding tight to the manners his grandfather had taught him. “Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Pendergast. But I’ve really gotta?—”
His sentence cut off as he turned and promptly collided with someone solid. His coffee sloshed dangerously in his cup. He barely managed to keep it from spilling all over the person in front of him.
“Sorry, I—” he began, his eyes lifting to meet the person’s gaze.
And just like that, his words vanished, scrambled like eggs tossed into a hot skillet. Jami Chou's eyes, dark and rich, had always tangled up his thoughts. They were the color of freshly brewed coffee—deep, bold, and able to kick-start his pulse with just a glance. They were the perfect char marks on a medium-rare steak, seared just right—hot enough to burn, but still soft enough to pull him in.
The way her gaze locked on to his, steady and unwavering, sent his mind spinning in circles. It was impossible to think straight when those eyes were on him. They always saw too much, disarming him before he could even string two coherent sentences together.
Jed wished she would speak to him. That she would say anything. He wouldn’t mind if her voice boomed loud enough for everyone to hear, letting the world know she saw him, too. He wished she’d invite him over for a private dinner—just the two of them. He'd gladly follow if she’d asked to take him to meet her grandmother, or anyone in her family. He'd let her parade him around like a prized dish. He’d be her signature recipe, the one she served with pride, the one that would always keep people coming back for more.
Because Jami Chou, with her deep coffee-colored eyes and her steady, quiet confidence, was the only woman he wanted to be the Culinary Casanova for. All the flashy shows, the adoring fans, the reputation—none of it mattered. He only wanted to impress her.
She looked anything but impressed as they faced off in the door of the coffee shop. She blinked up at him. Her dark eyes were wide with surprise. Her lips were parted slightly, like she was just as stunned as he was.
The bustling coffee shop fell away. The noise of clinking cups and casual conversations dimmed in the early morning light, as everything else in the world narrowed to her.
Jami Chou was back in town, standing right in front of him. Close enough for him to capture. Far enough to always be just out of his reach.
“Jami.” Her name fell from his lips before he could stop himself.
She stared at him, her expression unreadable. And just like that, the easygoing charm he used on everyone else vanished, leaving behind something raw and unsteady.
“Jed,” she finally replied.
Was that a touch of breathlessness in her voice? Or just wishful thinking on his part?
Catching Jami Chou off guard was not an easy feat. He'd only done it one time in their entire acquaintance. Jed's gaze dipped to her lips in remembrance of that one and only time she had been vulnerable with him. It had been that kiss. Stolen during a game of Truth or Dare. But she had known nothing about the dare Jed had been all too happy to take. A dare challenged by the boy she had once dated.
Looking at him now, Jami's lips parted, her nostrils flared, and Jed knew that she was remembering it too. The kiss, not the dare she still knew nothing about.
"Jami, over here."
Jami blinked and looked away from him. Jed wanted to punch the throat of whoever had pulled her attention away. He turned and saw Ryan Daniels. The very man who had been the instrument of everything Jed had wanted. The man who had made a cavalier dare that ended with Jami running away from home.