Chapter 4
Ariana
A WALLFLOWER’S DREAM
“That’ll be ten even,” I tell Tony, the town designated driver, as I hand him his usual oat milk flat white and blueberry scone.
He smiles and shoots me a wink from his good eye as he drops some cash in the tip jar. “See ya tomorrow, beautiful.”
I chuckle, more to myself than to him. Most people write Tony off as a dirty old man, but I’ve always thought of him as harmless, kind of endearing. Even with the glass snake eye.
I tend to see the best in people. Maybe it’s because I prefer my lenses rose-tinted, or because I’m part of so many people’s routines, I can’t help thinking of them as my little village to protect.
It’s amazing what someone’s coffee order can tell you about them.
When Rhonda orders her latte sugar-free with skim milk, I know she’s back on that diet that makes her cranky.
When one of my regulars switches her order to decaf, I can practically smell the pregnancy announcement.
When my brother Shane stops by and orders two drinks, I know it’s because he’s trying to impress some girl.
And when Coach Lamb, the high school football coach, orders the same drink every Friday for over a month straight, I know it’s because he ordered it on the day of a big win and now he can’t break the streak out of superstition.
And if that weren’t already a gold mine, I hear everything.
The gossip between two besties catching up.
The awkward first date where neither one knows how to act.
The day trader who takes very loud phone calls and is likely doing some insider trading.
The book club that meets here on Saturday afternoons to talk shit about their spouses. It’s a wallflower’s dream.
I was never someone with lofty career goals or hopes of moving to a big city. This is all I ever wanted—a small slice of something that was mine, something that made me happy. Something separate from my family’s business that was only for me.
I love being part of the brightest spot in someone’s day. When everything feels terrible but you know caffeine and a sweet treat will get you through it, that’s something I can give.
And maybe to most people it seems small, or sad, or even pathetic. But to me, it’s special. I grew up in this town, and I know nearly everyone. Before taking ownership of Novel and making it my own, people just knew of me. They knew my name and my family, but they didn’t really know me.
It’s hard to stand out in the Ledger family, especially next to my accomplished siblings. Sometimes it feels like they’re all achieving something great while I’m riding steadily along on the mediocre train. I’m not especially smart or witty or funny or pretty. Just plain old me.
The kind of person who blends into backgrounds and is easy to overlook. But behind this counter, I’m someone. And I don’t have to compete or shine as bright as my siblings to matter.
“Morning, Ariana,” Marcus says.
My smile twitches, dropping on instinct, but I fight it. That wouldn’t be very customer-servicey of me.
“Morning,” I reply with as much cheer as I can muster, staring at the tablet screen. “What can I get you?”
He lets out an exaggerated breath, crossing his arms as he looks at the menu like he’s really contemplating it. “What do you recommend?”
I hate when he does this. It’s like he’s playing some private little game with me—like there’s a secret between us and everything he says has a double meaning.
What I hate even more is that, once upon a time, I fell for it. For the act. For the flirting. And I gave him something of mine I can’t take back, no matter how badly I wish I could. Worst of all, he wasn’t worth it. Not even a little.
It happened the summer after our senior year of high school, and years later he still walks around like he knows he’s the only guy I’ve ever been with.
And unfortunately, he is.
“People have been enjoying the specials.” I point to the chalkboard with a list of summer-themed drinks.
“I guess I’ll go with the peach pie iced chai.”
After I punch in the order, my eyes meet his to confirm he doesn’t want anything else. He smirks at me, rolling his tongue under his top lip, causing an unwelcome drop in my stomach. “Make it dirty,” he adds, eyes raking over me.
I swallow, not wanting to give my discomfort away.
“One shot or two?”
His gaze pauses on my chest for a beat too long before he says, “Make it two. You know I like it extra dirty.”
A silent shudder runs through my body. I’m certain he does this on purpose. He wants me to feel uncomfortable. Though I can’t for the life of me figure out why he even bothers. It’s been nearly five years.
“That everything?”
He nods. “That’ll do it.”
I direct him to tap his card so I don’t have to accidentally brush hands with him.
While he does that, the bell above the door jingles, and when I turn to greet the customer, I see it’s Cole, and for whatever reason the tension coiling tightly inside me unravels.
Cole might annoy me on occasion and try to push my buttons, but he’s nothing like Marcus.
Cole isn’t someone women have to protect their drinks from at the Jackalope.
Marcus, on the other hand, has a reputation for being creepy.
He’s never been caught, but rumors like that don’t usually appear out of thin air.
“Can I have some ice?” Cole cuts in, practically pushing Marcus out of the way, clearly in a rush.
And for once I’m thankful for his lack of spatial awareness. Or at least his lack of it when it comes to being in my coffee shop.
“What’s wrong with your ice?”
“Machine’s not working,” he says, his breath short like he ran over here.
“Do you mind?” Marcus sneers. “I’m trying to pay.”
“Oh.” Cole’s face twists. “Sorry, man.”
He sounds about as sincere as a used car salesman.
Marcus’s expression twists, but that’s the extent of his reaction.
I guess even he knows better than to try and take someone like Cole on.
Where Marcus tops out at about five-nine on a good day, with a soft stomach and flabby arms, Cole towers over him.
Not to mention the muscle cording Cole’s thick arms, prominent veins over tan, rugged skin.
His bulging biceps alone are enough to intimidate most men.
Cole shoves past Marcus, checking him into a barstool as he moves to my side to grab some ice. I’m not sure if it was an accident or not, but I’m forced to stifle a laugh.
“Some Karen is demanding ice for her red wine,” Cole says. “Fucking sacrilegious, but I’m not going to risk pissing her off and getting our first nasty review.”
“Can I get a receipt?” Marcus asks.
“Sure,” I tell him absentmindedly. I don’t want to give him any more attention than necessary, and with Cole literally in the way, it’s the perfect excuse to brush him off. “Here you go.” I slide the receipt across the counter and spin on my heel before he can engage me in another stupid exchange.
Once Sadie finishes making his drink, he takes off, and the breath I was holding releases. Marcus doesn’t come in often, but when he does, he makes sure to not go unnoticed.
“You okay?” Cole asks, attention on my sagged shoulders.
“Yeah.” I sigh.
His brows pull together. “Don’t tell me you’re into that guy too?”
My head rears back. “No. Never again.” I shake my head, pushing the memories from the forefront of my mind.
“Again?” he nearly yells. “As in there’s a history there?”
He sounds oddly disappointed in me, and it makes me feel like a deflated balloon. My skin reddens, heat spreading across my chest.
“It was a long time ago. I’m not sure why he comes in here and basically taunts me about it.”
I didn’t mean for that last part to slip out, but it’s too late to take it back now. Based on the look on his face, I can see that Cole didn’t miss it.
“What do you mean he taunts you? You know you can refuse him service? That’s your right as a business owner.”
I’m not used to seeing Cole act serious—I almost think he’s joking.
Shrugging, I try to downplay it. “It’s not that big a deal.”
His eyes flare, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think his chest puffed too, but that’s likely my imagination running wild.
“The fuck it’s not. Next time he comes in, grab me and I’ll handle it. You gotta stop letting assholes like that walk all over you.”
“Okay, tough guy.” I giggle, waving him off. “I don’t need you fighting nonexistent battles for me, but thanks for the offer.”
I start to walk away but don’t make it one step before Cole’s hand wraps around my forearm. He tugs gently.
“Seriously. I need to know. If anyone gives you trouble—come grab me.”
“Oh. Kay,” I reply robotically, shaking my arm loose.
“I know you’re trying to not make it a big deal, but I’m your landlord, and if someone is giving one of my tenants a hard time, I can handle it. I know I joke around with you a lot, but there are some things I take seriously, believe it or not.”
Marcus hardly comes in. There’s no need to make a thing of it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him before walking away.
“What was that about?” Sadie asks as she reties her apron.
I glance back at Cole just as he exits with a cup full of ice in his hand.
“He needed ice for wine.”
“Pretty intense-looking conversation for ice,” Sadie mutters under her breath.
I don’t acknowledge her comment, busying myself with refilling the pastry case now that there’s a lull in customers.
Cole’s behavior was odd—more than just irritation over Marcus. And now it’s going to nag at me until I figure out what actually set him off.
His stupid implication that I let people walk all over me isn’t helping.
Do I? I’ll be the first to admit confrontation isn’t exactly my strong suit.
Being the youngest, I never really had to defend myself.
Even Layla—who’s a whole twelve minutes older—is better at speaking her mind and standing up for not just herself but me too.