3. Hopeless
3
Hadley
Why am I like this?
I’m still burning with embarrassment as I speed-walk down the sidewalk toward Books & Beans, Tessa’s coffee shop. Yes, I left Foster to his own devices, but I need to talk to my best friend. Extreme circumstances and all that.
As I step through the door, I spot Tessa behind the counter. She looks up with a smile to greet me, takes one look at my face, and points toward an empty table in the back. I nod and head that way, hearing her tell a barista to make mochas and heat up chocolate croissants for each of us.
As soon as she slides into the chair across from me, she gives me a pointed look and asks, “What happened?”
I lean over and tap my forehead against the table with a groan, then tell the whole sordid tale. Tessa remains quiet throughout, letting me spill my guts. I pause when the barista arrives with our drinks and food, meeting Tessa’s gaze over the rim of my mug as she stares at me with a contemplative expression. Then she nods once, a firm motion like she’s made a decision.
“It’s not as bad as it seems. I’m sure Foster blames himself for startling you. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I jerked away from his touch when he was just trying to help me, Tessa,” I say. “He probably thinks I’m a lunatic. Or frigid, or something.”
“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “You wear your emotions on your sleeve. It was probably pretty obvious you were nervous around him because you like him. It’s actually pretty cute.”
She smirks with that last bit, and I roll my eyes. “How is that better? I’d rather him think I’m frigid.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, then tilts her head. “I think you should try flirting with him. See what happens.”
“What do I know about flirting?” I blurt, my head rearing back in horror. “No. I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” she says, her voice filled with confidence. “A coy glance here, a not-so-innocent touch there.”
I freeze, my eyes going wide as images of my hands touching Foster flash through my mind. Of his hands on me.
“Shit, Hadley,” Tessa says in low tones, jerking me from the fantasy. “I didn’t mean it like that. Unless, of course, you want Foster to be your first.”
Her voice drops to a whisper on that last part. My hair swings around as I shake my head roughly.
“I never said that,” I hiss.
“You never denied it, either,” she says. “You obviously like him, or you wouldn’t be such a wreck right now. Just be yourself. If Foster likes you––and I’m pretty sure he does––he’ll make a move. It’s up to you to decide how far and how fast you want things to go.”
I’m already shaking my head again before she finishes. “Even if you’re right, and he liked me before, I’m pretty sure I just ruined it with my awkwardness. I’m hopeless.”
“I don’t think so,” she replies slowly. “Your awkwardness is one of your most endearing qualities.”
She gives me a warm smile, and I can’t help but return it. We’ve been best friends since high school, and she’s had a front row seat to all my embarrassing, inelegant, tongue-tied moments. Of which there have been plenty.
“And I’m sure Foster thinks so, too,” she goes on, ruining the moment.
I push my mug and plate away so I can drop my forehead to the table again. Foster is a strong, confident, gorgeous man. He can probably get any woman he wants, so why would he be interested in a skittish lunatic who nearly knocked him out, cold, and seems averse to his touch?
Lifting my head, I pin Tessa with a dark look. “He has to think I’m a freak.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she says, pushing herself to her feet. “I have to get back to work, and you need to get back over there. Your newest guest might have some needs that require attending.”
“Oh, my God, Tessa. Stop,” I say, standing.
Laughter titters out of her, and I can’t repress my own smile as she rounds the table and tugs me into a warm hug. When she pulls back, she grips my upper arms and locks gazes with me.
“Everything is going to be fine. Don’t stress over every little thing. Just be yourself, and if he’s interested, he’ll let you know. Then you can decide what you really want.”
“Thanks, Tess,” I breathe.
She gives me one last encouraging smile, releases me, and heads back behind the counter. Grabbing my mug, I drain the last of my mocha. I pick up the chocolate croissant, take a big bite, then drop what’s left of it back to the plate.
I’m dragging my feet on the way back home, and the walk takes me twice as long as the trip to the coffee shop took. I spend the entire time silently repeating mantras of confidence and strength to myself.
I can do this.
I’m a grown woman. A business owner and pillar of the community.
Foster McKenna is just a man. I’m fine.
Totally fine.
When I get back to the house, the man in question is walking through the door. I praise myself for keeping my steps steady and not stumbling at the sight of him. He spots me and waits at the top of the steps as I pick my way to the top. Stopping in front of him, I take a calming breath.
“Hey. You headed out?”
There. That was normal. Friendly, even.
“Yeah, I have some errands to run.”
His gaze drops to my lips as he says the words, and my breath hitches in my chest. I’ve seen enough romantic movies to know what it means when a man stares at a woman’s mouth. It means he wants to kiss her.
Holy shit. Does Foster McKenna want to kiss me? What do I do? What do I do?
My body sways forward of its own accord as he continues to stare. It’s happening. This is it.
Oh, my God. What’s wrong with my heart? It’s racing, and I can’t breathe. Am I having a heart attack?
Please, for the love of God, please don’t let me go into cardiac arrest when Foster kisses me for the first time.
His gaze snaps back up to mine, and time stops. I feel lightheaded, like the earth’s rotation picked up speed, and I can literally feel us spinning round and round.
Foster clears his throat, the sound startling me a bit, then points at his mouth. Is he telling me where to kiss him? Where else would I kiss him? Oh, God. There goes my heart, skipping out of my chest again.
“You, uh, have a little something,” he says, and the chaotic spinning comes to a screeching halt.
“What?” I bark, my hand flying up to wipe at the corners of my mouth.
Pulling it back, I stare at the smudges of dark chocolate on my fingertips. My face bursts into flames as I remember taking that last giant bite of my croissant at the coffee shop. I walked all the way home with the stuff smeared on my face, then thought Foster wanted to kiss me when he was only trying to come up with a polite way to let me know I looked like a toddler who just finished her dessert.
“You got it,” he says gently, then moves around me to head down the steps. Over his shoulder, he calls out, “I’ll see you later, Hadley.”
“See you,” I call back without looking, then rush inside to die in privacy.
I head straight for the living room and throw myself facedown onto the couch. I scream into a pillow, hoping the soft cushion will muffle the sound.
I’m such an idiot. Tessa is wrong. It’s not endearing. It’s uncomfortable, awkward, and embarrassing.
I sit up and slouch back against the cushions. I can’t believe I thought he wanted to kiss me. Why would he? The mere idea is ludicrous.
I shake my head and blow out a long breath. I can be normal. I have to.
No more mistakes. No more wild fantasies. I’m the proprietor of this establishment, and Foster is a guest. We run in the same circles, and we might even be friends. That’s all.
Nothing more.
That’s all this is, and all it will ever be.
And as long as I remember that, I should be able to act normal around him.
Everything will be fine. Absolutely and completely fine.