Chapter Four
FRANKIE
I’ve been in the coffee shop for hours already, but it’s barely nine in the morning.
I woke up early with startling blue eyes fading from my vision as I blinked into reality, then realized who I was dreaming of and rolled over with a groan.
I don’t know how Everly would feel about me dating her sister, though I don’t think she’d be opposed.
She’d probably love it, so long as I promised to still spend quality time with her too.
Regardless of how my best friend may or may not feel about a relationship that may or may not happen, I wasn’t going to be falling back asleep.
So I rolled out of bed and decided to get a head start on the morning.
While I bake some of the pastries myself, most are from the local bakery down the road.
I do easy stuff that doesn’t take too much time or effort: banana bread, quiche, the occasional blueberry muffin.
Alex, the baker, makes whatever he feels like for me and it always sells.
Cookies, pastries, muffins, desserts, even donuts sometimes.
He’s talented and prompt with his deliveries, overall an excellent business owner to partner with.
Today he dropped off an armload of macarons in a rainbow of colors along with cream cheese muffins and lavender lemon scones.
I tried one of each. They’re all delicious.
I think I’m stress eating. Or maybe excitement eating .
The front window keeps pulling my attention, and every time the door opens I hope it’ll be Addison walking in.
It hasn’t been yet, and I know it likely won’t be for some time.
I remember when Everly tried to talk to her at nine a.m. when she was visiting last December.
She told me Addison wasn’t even out of bed yet, and cranky as hell to boot.
I expect the soonest I’ll see her is late morning, if at all.
The brunch crowd distracts me for a bit, but time crawls by.
Derek, the owner of the only grocery store in town, stalks past across the street, stopping to mean-mug the coffee shop for a solid minute before continuing on his way.
He’s wanted to know where I source my specialty coffee beans for years; at this point I’m simply refusing to tell him out of spite.
If he was a nice guy I might consider it, but he’s not, so I won’t.
He can continue to try to upsell me with his crappy coffee beans and good luck to him.
Jaime, one of the two teenagers I hired a few months ago when Derek threatened to report me for closing during operating business hours, snags my attention, needing help with the cash register.
It’s another distraction, one more thing to help this morning slog by.
My frown quickly disappears when a familiar dog on a familiar leash pokes his giant wet nose into the glass door.
Addison is here, and if the pastel yellow leather bag is anything to go by, she brought her laptop with her, as I hoped she would.
She takes off her bright pink shades as she steps in and offers me a tentative smile.
It’s better than the fake one from the other day, so I meet it with a grin of my own.
Then, I realize with horror, I don’t know what her coffee order is, and that feels like a crime. She tugs Moose up to the counter with her and I nudge Jaime out of the way.
“What can I get you, sweets?” I ask.
Her cheeks tint a lovely shade of pink.
“I’ll take an iced latte, please,” she says, and I quirk an eyebrow. There’s no way that’s her full order. She pinches her lips between her teeth as her eyes skim the menu on the wall behind me, then turn to the pastry box. I decide to help her out .
“What kind of milk?”
“Oh, um, oat would be great, if you have it.”
“Sure, any flavored syrup?” I hold in my smirk. I knew she wanted more.
“Maybe,” she draws out the word as though she really can’t decide, and that intrigues me. Perhaps she doesn’t have one go-to order.
“Can’t decide?” I ask.
“I like cinnamon, but that doesn’t feel right today. Maybe hazelnut? Or vanilla,” she trails off, scanning the line of syrup bottles behind me.
“You open to a surprise?” I ask.
Her baby blues snag my gaze as they swing back to me, lighting up with excitement.
“Sure! I love surprises. Just not peppermint,” she says.
“In the middle of summer?” I scoff. “I’m not a heathen, Addison.”
She grins and requests a rainbow of macarons to go with her latte. I tell her I’ll bring everything to her when it’s ready and she heads over to a table to set up. Jaime snags a water bowl for Moose while I whip up an iced coconut latte for her.
When I carry over a colorful plate of macarons and her coffee, I notice she’s frowning at her phone. Her eyebrows are pinched and she’s bouncing her leg under the table.
“Hey,” I say, setting everything down next to her. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah!” she says, flipping her phone down on the table and directing another fake smile my way.
“Don’t do that,” I scold, my voice coming out more harsh than I intended.
Her smile falls and a look of confusion takes over her pretty face.
“Don’t do what?”
“Pretend. Don’t pretend with me,” I say, softening my voice. “I can tell something’s bothering you, and if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay, but don’t with that fake smile.”
She breaks eye contact and looks down at the back of her phone, tracing the marbled pattern with the tip of her finger.
“Your real one is far too pretty, and I’d rather know the real you than a fake version, smiling or not,” I say, sitting down next to her. Jaime can cover the counter for a bit.
Addison is quiet, but I let her have a moment, realizing I came on pretty strong.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she finally says, peeking up at me through a fringe of long, dark lashes.
“That’s okay. Do you want to talk about what that frown was for?”
She shakes her head, and I nod my acquiescence.
“What’s on the docket for today, then?” I ask.
“Eh, just typical work stuff. Emails, responding to requests, that sort of thing.”
“I take it you haven’t heard back about the transfer yet?” I say.
She looks up at me with her eyebrows raised. “No,” she says slowly, “I haven’t. I’m surprised you remembered.”
I quirk my lips to the side. What she doesn’t realize is that it’s not hard to remember everything she says. In fact, to forget anything about this stunning creature would be impossible.
“I remember everything about you,” I say, though it’s so low under my breath that I’m not sure she hears. I don’t think I want her to, not yet anyway.
Whether she does or not, she doesn’t answer. I stand so we can both get back to work.
“You staying for a while?” I say.
“I was thinking I would, if that’s okay,” Addison says.
“I’d love that. Maybe later we can take a break for lunch?”
“Sure,” she says, another small smile lighting her face.
~~~
I can’t keep my eyes off her over the next couple of hours.
Her fingers fly across her keyboard, her perfectly shaped eyebrows pinch and relax, and every few minutes she reaches down to scratch Moose behind the ears.
When she finishes her latte, I make her another, this time with caramel instead of coconut.
I drop it off without a word, swiping her empty plate and cup, and she gifts me with a slightly bigger smile this time.
I wink at Addison as I pass, heading to the next table.
As soon as she sits back and shuts her laptop, I’m practically flying across the room.
“Hungry for some lunch?” I say, but she shakes her head.
“You can eat though, I’m happy to still hang out with you for a bit.”
I shrug and lean back in the chair, widening my legs and kicking my feet out so one bumps into hers. She glances down as though she can see through the table, then back up, her eyes scanning my face. I tilt my head with another smile, waiting for her to say whatever is on her mind.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” she blurts, then slaps her hands over her mouth as her eyes flare with panic.
I freeze, sensing the hush that’s fallen around us and the eyes turning our way.
Then I slowly sit up and lean forward, placing my elbows on the table.
Her eyes are glued to mine, unblinking as I tilt my head and try to figure out what she’s talking about.
Does she mean after I picked her up from the airport?
“Care to expand on that, sweets?”
She shakes her head so hard I worry she’ll hurt her neck, meanwhile her hands are still clasped over her mouth. Then she jolts and grabs her bag and laptop, as though she’s going to pack up and leave.
“Addison,” I say, gentling my voice and moving to the seat next to her. “Wait, hang on a sec.”
She pauses her frantic movements to look up at me again, and I try to offer a reassuring smile.
I’m used to Everly’s anxiety, so I use some of the things she finds helpful in the hopes it’ll settle whatever is going on with Addison.
I reach out slowly, giving her plenty of time to move if she doesn’t want to be touched, then settle my hand on her forearm.
I squeeze once and then nudge her hand away from her laptop.
She releases it and slouches in her seat, then glances around. Her shoulders hunch up and her cheeks turn even more red. I don’t like her feeling self-conscious.
“Ignore them. A bunch of gossip-hungry vultures,” I say, raising my voice enough for those around us to hear.
There’s a collective rasp of fabric against wood as people shift in their seats, pretending to go back to their own business.
She takes a breath and meets my gaze again, so I continue, lowering my voice for her ears only.
“What did you mean? When did you want me to kiss you?”
Addison splutters. “I didn’t—I mean, when we—”
I try not to grin, I really do, but it breaks through despite biting my lip to try to hide it. Her cheeks turn even more pink than they already were.
“Right, we can pretend you don’t want me to kiss you, if that helps,” I say. “And we can also pretend that I don’t want to kiss you, either.” I make a fist and bump it to my chest over my heart.
She looks shocked for all of two seconds before she grins and shakes her head.
“Fine,” she says.
“Great, so you were saying?”
“After that drinking game when I was here a few months ago. I thought… I don’t know.”
“You thought there was something there. That we had chemistry,” I say.
She neither confirms nor denies it, which I find slightly irritating because I want her to admit it. I want to hear that she felt—and feels—the same way I do.
“I thought we were flirting, and I guess I thought it might lead to more,” she says instead. Her eyes are downcast again and I hate it.
“And you’re wondering why it didn’t.”
“I’m wondering why you rejected me.”
Oh.
That hurts. I hurt her, and that hurts me, and I don’t want any of that.
“You thought I was rejecting you… No, no, sweet Addison.” I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to settle the emotions that are now roiling through me.
“I wasn’t rejecting you, and everything you thought about us flirting, me wanting more, that’s true. But we had both been drinking, and I didn’t know exactly how much either of us had. I didn’t want to take advantage, and I didn’t want you to wake up the next morning with any regrets.”
“I did, though,” Addison whispers, then her sorrowful eyes rise from the table to meet mine. “I did have regrets.”
My eyebrows draw in, the hurt spreading. Hurt for myself this time.
“You did?”
She nods, averting her eyes again. “I regretted not kissing you. I regret that I didn’t put myself out there. I regret that I didn’t make a move, and simply waited, hoping that you would.”
This woman.
She might be the death of me.
“Addison,” I whisper, and her eyes flick back to mine. “Can we start over?”
She blinks rapidly once, twice. A third time. Then a tiny, hopeful smile cracks through her vacant facade, and she nods.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I stand, walk to the counter, grab a pink macaron, then stride back to her table. Her look of confusion transforms as I approach. She bites her lip, eyes flicking between mine and the macaron.
“Hi, I’m Frankie,” I say, holding out the macaron. “I hear you owe the owner a few hours of cleaning, something about making up for a favor?”
Addison grins, all sparkling white teeth and pretty pink lips.
“I’m Addison,” she says, “And I do believe you’re correct. Shall I come back when you close?”
“See you at seven.”