Chapter Four Odette
Chapter Four
Odette
“Food. Need.”
“Are we not doing full sentences today?”
I glower at the guy behind the counter of my favorite coffee shop. This may be my favorite coffee spot in Port Harbor, but it’s too early in the morning for full sentences.
“Food,” I say again.
He laughs. “Guess not. Your usual?”
“Please.”
“Ah, there are those manners of yours I know and love.” He punches buttons on the screen with a grin. “Twenty-ounce honey lavender oat milk latte and an Asiago bagel with cream cheese, lightly toasted. Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Total.”
Kai reads me my total—which I should know by heart since I come here nearly every day—and I tap my card against the machine. I leave him a little extra on his tip since I know I’m not my usual chipper self today.
I stand at the end of the counter, where my stuff will come out, and lean against it, looking out the window toward Harborview Boulevard, which runs along the waterfront.
The sun is barely up, so things are still calm, but if I give it thirty minutes, the place will be buzzing. Port Harbor might be small, but it’s mighty. The townsfolk are always out and about, supporting the local shops. We take pride in backing up our own.
That’s why I’m up far too early. I’m headed to the Stick Taps property to start on all the renovations Noah has planned for the wedding.
When I insisted that I help him, I didn’t anticipate him texting me last night with instructions to arrive at 5:30 a.m. I heard rumors that time existed in the morning, but I’ve never seen it before.
Sleeping until nine or ten is a luxury I’ve afforded myself since starting my business, and I’ve taken advantage of that as often as I can.
Kai slides my coffee over to me first—bless him—and I immediately pull the latte to my lips, sipping the steaming-hot drink. I don’t care that it burns. The caffeine fix is worth it.
The light inside Artfully Yours across the street flicks on, drawing my attention, and I can say with certainty that I had no idea the pottery shop opened this early.
Actually, I had no idea the coffee shop did either.
I just drove here on autopilot and was pleasantly surprised to find the doors unlocked.
“Kai?”
He pops his head out from around the corner. “Yes?”
“Do you always open this early?”
He chuckles. “Technically, we don’t open until six, but you looked desperate, so I didn’t say anything.”
“What? You’re not even open yet?!”
He shakes his head. “Not until six.”
“Kai! I . . . wh-what . . .” I sputter. “Why did you let me in?”
He shrugs. “Told you. You looked in serious need of a coffee. And, honestly, a little scary. No offense.”
“None taken.” I’m sure I do look scary. I’m not even sure if I put on underwear. That’s how tired I was when I rolled out of bed. “And thank you. You didn’t have to let me in. You could have told me to get lost.”
“Could have, but I have a soft spot for my favorites.” He shoots me a wink. “Your bagel is almost done. I’ll go grab the cream cheese from the back. To go, right?”
I nod, then pull my phone from my purse to check the time because the last thing I want is to be late, especially since I insisted on being included in this.
I ignore the email from my landlord—a reminder that rent is due, I’m sure—and go right to the waiting text message.
What psychopath is even up at this hour?
Oh, right. The one who set this date.
Noah: Are you on your way?
Noah: Because you’d better be on your way, Odie.
My fingers fly over the screen.
Me: you are SO damn bossy
Me: yes
Me: OMW
Me: coffee first
Noah: You stopped for coffee? Are you planning to break every law on the way here?
Noah: What does OMW mean?
I chuckle. Of course he doesn’t know shorthand text. Sometimes I forget the large age gap between us and that we don’t have what is basically a secret language like me and Izzy. We can text each other a single letter and know what the other means. It’s weird.
Me: on my way
Me: && not all laws, just some
Noah: Just don’t be late.
Me: yes, sir!
I shake my head, dropping my phone back into my purse.
Leave it to Noah to be so overbearing this early in the morning. He’s always played the big brother role to a T.
If only he knew that I’ve had thoughts about him that certainly aren’t brotherly at all.
I’ll admit, I stood at the barn door for a little too long yesterday before making my presence known.
I couldn’t help it. He looked so good standing in the middle of it, his hands on his hips as he looked at every minor imperfection.
I could tell it was overwhelming him, the thought of having to rebuild it, but he would do it anyway if it made his sister happy.
That’s just who he is. A stand-up kind of guy.
Dependable. The type of guy you can lean on when the going gets tough.
That’s why I know he’ll make this wedding the best this town has ever seen and help me save my business.
That email about rent being due is just another reminder of how badly I need this.
I have the money, thanks to the savings I padded back when I was actually getting clients, but it’s dwindling fast. I shouldn’t even be here buying coffee and breakfast, but it’s a necessity to get through this day with Noah. That’s an acceptable splurge, right?
Noah.
Pain-in-my-ass yet oh-so-amazing Noah, who is doing all this for me and his sister out of the kindness of his heart.
I know it’s unfair to put the future of Chambers Charming Ceremonies on his shoulders, but I need this. I can’t let another thing go awry. I can’t be a failure at business. I’m already destined to fail at love. Isn’t that enough?
“Here you go.” Kai slides the bagged bagel my way.
“Thanks,” I tell him, grabbing it off the counter. “Could I get one more thing?”
I’m late.
Sure, I gave Noah a hard time and swore I wouldn’t be a problem for him, but it’s not my fault Mr. Taylor took all six of his dogs on a walk this morning and got tangled in the crosswalk, leaving me stuck at the stop sign while I waited for him to sort his life out.
I just hope this coffee in my hand works as a peace offering. It was going to be my thank-you for letting me help, but now it’s an “I’m sorry I was late” gift.
I yank open the door of Stick Taps and come to a skidding halt right in front of a very grumpy—okay, so he always looks grumpy—Noah.
His big arms are crossed over his chest, and his lips are turned down into a frown. “You’re late.”
I hold out the to-go cup of coffee. “I got this for you. It’s black?”
It comes out as a question, and I’m unsure why. Probably because I have no idea how Noah takes his coffee, but black seemed appropriate, given his usual demeanor. It matches his soul and all.
He stares at it skeptically for several moments before finally taking it from me and bringing it to his lips. I watch—admittedly far too closely—as he takes a sip.
His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, making me swallow, too, even though there’s no reason for it to be so attractive.
I avert my eyes, but not before seeing a soft ahh roll off his lips.
“Good?” I ask, looking at the floor.
He grunts in response, then turns on his heel and marches toward the bar.
My feet follow him before I realize I do. He nods toward an empty stool, and I slide onto it, clutching my own coffee between my hands as I watch him pop open a familiar-looking yellow box.
Sunnie’s.
Also known as the best place around if you’re looking to satisfy your sweet tooth.
I guess Noah was this morning.
He sets out two napkins, pulls a delicious-looking fritter from the box, and places it on one before sliding it my way.
He grabs another from the box, takes the napkin and fritter, and leans against the back counter, one leg crossed over the other.
He bites into the dough, which I know is light and fluffy and just sugary enough.
A few pieces of the glaze cling to his lips, and I barely resist the urge to leap across the counter and lick them away.
I point to mine, my mouth watering despite downing my bagel on the drive here. “Chocolate banana?”
A brow lifts. “Would it be anything else?”
He doesn’t have to say another word. I pounce, biting into the treat, not caring enough to be embarrassed by the moan that leaves me. It’s completely warranted. These fritters are that damn good.
While I love all their flavors, the chocolate banana is my favorite. Noah knew it too.
“God, I love these things,” I say through a mouthful. I meet Noah’s eyes. “Don’t you love these things?”
He doesn’t say anything. He just watches me.
I chew, and he stares. I swallow, and he stares. I take a sip of my coffee, and he stares.
And all the while I’m growing hotter and hotter under his gaze.
It’s probably just the heat. He has it cranked in here, which isn’t surprising since it’s so cold this morning.
“Noah?” I finally say.
It’s like something in him snaps, and he realizes he’s been watching me.
“Sorry,” he mutters, then shoves his fritter into his mouth, his eyes now on the floor.
Huh. Weird.
I shrug it off, and we finish our breakfast in silence.
When we’re done, Noah tosses our napkins in the trash bin, then puts the box from Sunnie’s under the counter on the shelves I know are back there.
“Got more for later,” he says as an explanation. He grabs his coffee off the bar top. “You ready?”
I sigh. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Nobody asked you to do this, you know.”
“I know. I want to.”
He gives me a disbelieving look but doesn’t say another word. He just waltzes toward the front door, and I guess I’m supposed to follow him because he stands there with it open, looking back at me expectantly.
“I guess we’re getting started now,” I say under my breath as I slide off the stool.
He holds the door open as I slip by and moves himself out of the way, careful not to touch me.
I didn’t realize I repulsed Noah so much, but I’m too tired to comment on it.
When I head toward my car, he grabs my elbow.