Love You A Latte (Stone Ridge #2)

Chapter One

ADDISON

I’m giddy with anticipation, even though this might be the most low-key “vacation” I’ve ever taken.

House-sitting for my sister and her boyfriend while taking care of their dog?

So chill, but it’s exactly the escape from reality—ie.

work, my toxic ex-girlfriend, and my annoying ex-boyfriend—that I need.

It could not have come at a better time.

What could be going better though, is this rental car situation.

“What do you mean my reservation wasn’t confirmed?” I ask, trying not to let the irritation slip into my voice. “I have it right here.”

I flip my phone around and rest my forearm on the cool counter, showing the email confirmation. My toes tap the tiled floor impatiently.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but there must have been some sort of glitch. We don’t have a car for you,” says the young man behind the computer.

I fist my hand, hidden by the counter, and take a deep breath.

“That’s fine, forget the reservation. I’ll take whatever you have.”

“It’s… well, sorry, I mean,” he stumbles over his words, looking ready to cry. “We don’t have anything left.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.

“Well, we’re booked, so we don’t have any available cars for you to rent. I’m so sorry.”

I glance first to my right, then left, but the lines for the other rental car companies don’t look promising.

“Do you have any way of telling who else might have some cars available? Seeing as how I have already paid for one?” I try not to speak through my teeth, I really do, but I don’t think I’m successful.

“Let me grab my manager,” he says, and ducks away.

Unfortunately, the manager isn’t any more helpful, leaving me stuck in the Phoenix airport over an hour away from where I need to be with no car. This is not helping my abandonment issues.

I phone my sister, Everly, though I’m not sure what she’s going to do since she and Asim left for their trip last night. They’re probably laying on a sunny beach sipping mimosas right now.

“Hey Ad, what’s up?” Everly says.

“Hey, so I guess my rental reservation didn’t go through and they don’t have any cars left so I’m kind of stuck at the airport.” I’m grumpy, and my brusque tone shows it.

“What? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not sure what to do.

” I sigh as I pull my luggage behind me and trek over to a bench.

I switch the phone to my other ear as I sit down and plop my carry-on bag next to me.

“I already tried three different rideshare apps and no one’s willing to drive all the way out to the middle-of-nowhere Stone Ridge. ”

“Well, that’s annoying,” Everly says, and then Asim speaks up.

“You could call Frankie, they’d come get you.”

I splutter in protest as my face turns red just hearing their name. “I hardly know Frankie, that’s such a long drive, why would they—”

“Oh, good idea! They wouldn’t mind, want me to call for you?” Everly asks, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Do I want to spend over an hour in a car with the person I’ve been hard crushing on since we flirted during a drinking game, but then rejected my kiss a few months ago? Someone who I have neither seen nor spoken to since? My gut clenches .

No, I absolutely do not.

Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have any say in the matter.

“Okay, I just texted them and sent them your number. I’ll text you theirs, too, so you can coordinate. If anything else comes up, just let me know!” Everly is far too happy about this situation, but I guess a tropical vacation will do that to a person. “Talk later, bye!”

She hangs up before I manage a desperate, “Wait…”.

As I stare at my phone, a little perplexed at the whirlwind change in circumstances, it buzzes with a text.

Unknown number: Hey, it’s Frankie. Everly said you’re in a situation and need a ride from the airport?

Me: Hey Frankie, yeah, I’m really sorry about this. My reservation got messed up and they have no rental cars left. If you’re able to drive out here I’d really appreciate it, but if not no worries! I can figure something else out [smiley emoji]

Unknown number: No problem. I’ll head out soon and text you my ETA

I type and then delete a reply, then my fingers jab out a new one.

I debate how many exclamation points is too many exclamation points, then realize they’re likely seeing the three little dots popping up and down on their end.

This is the worst. I finally settle on only one exclamation point, and hit send.

Me: Oh my gosh, thank you so much. Okay, sounds good, talk soon !

I save their number in my phone and shove it in my pocket, then wander back into the terminal in search of food while I wait for Frankie to arrive.

~~~

Unfortunately, despite being hungry a half hour ago, my stomach has been in knots since Everly decided to so very thoughtfully solve my problem for me, so I was only able to manage a few bites while waiting for Frankie.

The remnants of my meal end up in the compost bin and I detour through the airport bookstore as I wait, killing time.

I somehow manage not to buy anything, a truly impressive feat, and as soon as I receive Frankie’s message that they’re pulling into the airport, my stomach flips and explodes with butterflies.

Freaking butterflies.

I berate myself internally, trying to hammer in the fact that they rejected me only a few months ago, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The butterflies are relentless and don’t care one bit about how tarnished my heart is.

I mean, it shouldn’t have impacted me so strongly.

It was one night of drinking games, full of flirting and fun, and I had no reason to take it so personally when they didn’t want more at the end of the night.

Especially since Frankie is my sister’s best friend.

Of course they wouldn’t want to mess things up with Everly by making out with me.

They might even think of me like their own little sister.

The thought makes me cringe, and I shudder to shake it off.

I’ve always been told I’m overly sensitive. The toxic relationships haven’t helped, and add in my parents’ deaths when I was only twenty—yeah, it’s a recipe for emotional disaster.

So my tender heart was bruised by a rejection from someone I thought felt the same way I did, and apparently it still is even now. Months later.

Frankie rumbles up to the curb in their beat-up old blue pickup truck and I suck in a breath, bracing myself.

It’s one thing to daydream about them, it’s another entirely to see them in person again.

I mean, they’re just so cool . With their aviator shades, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other out the open window, black tattoos running up and down both arms. Curly, floppy brown hair on top and shaved on the sides hints at their Mexican heritage, while the Polynesian style tattoo circling their forearm speaks to the other side of their family tree.

They adjust their hold on the wheel to park and when they look my way, one side of their mouth quirks up and I blink, realizing I’m just standing here. Staring.

I jolt into action, tugging my heavy suitcase and carry-on with me, when they open the door and step out.

Those black combat boots do something to me, causing an enticing, swooping motion in my lower abdomen, but when they reach one hand up to remove their sunglasses and I’m hit with those sparkling hazel eyes… yeah. I’m done for.

One hundred percent a lost cause.

Their crooked grin hasn’t abated, and I stumble, tripping over my own two feet when they stick their sunglasses into that perfectly messy hair and rake their gaze up and down my body.

That can’t possibly mean what my body wants it to.

My face turns beet red; I can feel how hot my skin is, and I avert my eyes, looking at the dirty pavement instead of them.

I don’t look bad, per se. I’m wearing leggings and an oversized tee, so I don’t look fantastic, but it could be worse.

I hate that I’m having such a strong reaction to them though, my entire body gravitating toward them and seeking their approval, their interest. I try to remind myself that they don’t want me, despite whatever that appreciative look might have implied.

“Hey,” I say, clearing my throat as I approach.

Frankie already has the tailgate open, and they reach out to grab my suitcase.

“Hey,” they reply, and oh heavens that voice. A perfect alto, a bit husky, and all bad for me.

“Hi,” I say, and immediately close my eyes for a moment, trying to hold the regret and embarrassment at bay.

Stupid. So stupid.

Frankie laughs as they latch the tailgate shut and the truck gives a slight lurch.

It’s a contagious laugh though, and strangely, it doesn’t make me feel like I’m being laughed at .

Instead, that laugh makes my heart flutter in my chest, a happy little dance at hearing their joy.

My smile peeks out as they walk around me to the passenger side, but it drops when they open the truck door for me, standing far too close.

Close enough to touch with the smallest movement, if I wanted to. If they wanted me to.

When I simply stand there and stare for a moment too long, Frankie clears their throat with a pointedly raised eyebrow and angles their head for me to get in.

This person is dangerous. I don’t know if my heart is going to survive the next hour, let alone the next week.