Chapter 3
One Month Later
Jordan
Seeing Zinnia in person stunned him so bad he forgot how to blink.
Almost an hour early for their meeting, she lingered near Tantivy’s entrance, deciding where to go first: the coffee bar, bakery, or bookstore.
His eyeballs were drying out, but he didn’t want to miss a single second of her.
Sun-kissed brown skin. Long, dark braids. Jewelry everywhere. An incredible dress that swished around her equally incredible thighs as she headed for the mystery and thriller shelf. He just knew she smelled good too.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Coco lightly bumped her forearm against his.
“Shit.” Over-steamed milk had splattered all over his hands and apron.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just got distracted.” He placed the steel frothing pitcher into the small sink beside the espresso machine and poured out the now cool shots.
Damn it. He clenched his jaw to help him focus.
Choosing someone based on looks alone was an all-around bad idea.
There had to be more. He scanned Zinnia again, head to toe—
She might be a reader. Had a colorful sense of style. Tall with good posture. Likely the kind of person who cared about little details because her bejeweled nails matched her outfit.
“Hey.” Coco tapped him again. “You’re in the way and fucking up my workflow.”
“Stop cussing on the front line.”
“You just did it.”
“I pay you enough to ignore my hypocrisy,” he joked. “Remake this for me while I clean up?”
“Don’t give me orders, old man.” Her expert eyes barely needed more than a glance at the ticket before getting started.
Foul mouth aside, Coco was one of his best employees. If he wanted to retire tomorrow, he could leave her and Phil in charge of his entire business. Which was fantastic considering he was about to disappear due to a secretly preplanned family emergency.
He finished cleaning the station and removed his apron. “My meeting is starting early. West is on his way to fill in.”
“I got this. Thanks, though.”
Room One was behind the coffee bar and bakery—a combination kitchen, storage, and employee break area. He tossed his apron into the laundry basket and thoroughly washed his sticky hands.
Why was Zinnia so early? Worry crashed into stress like a train hitting a semitruck. They had confirmed the time twice by text, yesterday and that morning. He didn’t have any new messages from her. He hadn’t forgotten anything…had he?
Shit.
His memory resembled Swiss cheese on a good day.
If he didn’t write something down, it slipped away as if it never existed.
Being stressed out made things ten times worse.
He’d been forgetting everything lately—returning calls, appointments, locking his damn front door.
At this rate, he’d be lucky if he remembered his own name by the end of next week.
He’d just have to apologize to her. Explain and completely throw himself at her mercy. This meeting had to go well because she was his last chance.
Time was not on Jordan’s side, but maybe Zinnia could be.
After a quick fit check in the mirror and using some lotion because he was not meeting her with ashy hands, he headed back out front. She was still in the same section, almost to the end.
Being able to make conversation was like a muscle for him.
If he didn’t use it, that fucker atrophied expeditiously, and it had been a while since he had needed to try.
He said a silent prayer, hoping all the questions he had about her proposal would be enough to carry him through, and took an unexpectedly nervous deep breath.
“Excuse me, hi. Zinnia?”
She whirled around, eyes wide and with a book clutched to her chest. “Yes?” Between one second and the next, her startled expression faded into recognition. “Oh, hi! You’re here already.” And then, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”
Great minds. “Because this is my store. I own it. I was working behind the counter when you walked in.”
Her eyebrows raised slightly as she looked him up and down, once and then again. Disappointment filled her eyes before she shuttered it behind a tight smile.
Dressing in all black was a way of life for him.
He’d chosen to wear a clean work uniform, also all black, because this was a business meeting.
He knew women cared about how much effort men put into first dates—he’d heard his sister complain about it enough for the lesson to stick.
But again, this was a business meeting. What was she expecting?
She placed the book back on the shelf, notably in the correct spot. “You technically didn’t break my meeting in public rule, but you are bending it.”
He’d told her he knew a great place to meet because he worked in retail management, but not that he owned Tantivy. He figured she’d look it up online and see him on the store website. Apparently, that didn’t happen.
“Well, you said you loved surprises. How did I do?”
Her entire being brightened as she smiled, like watching the sunrise after wandering in an endless night. “I absolutely would’ve wanted to see your store. Well played.”
He knew he was staring. He knew he needed to say something, anything, but she’d knocked the wind out of him. Common sense too.
“I’d love to have a tour,” she suggested helpfully. “If that’s okay? Jordan?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Sorry about that. So, tour, yes. This way.”
Breaking out of his Zinnia-induced stupor was easier thought than done.
He only survived the next twenty minutes by sharing his work life with her.
She gave him her full attention as he explained Tantivy’s current operations—how they were a solid team but ultimately operated as three distinct sections.
He’d hired baristas, bakers, and booksellers, and very rarely did one sector need to cover another.
His three managers, who were required to be cross-trained, covered staff shortages instead.
Over the years, he’d figured out how to get a good feel for a person based on the way they treated service staff. Zinnia greeted every employee he introduced with her sun goddess smile and a question, using any little detail that caught her eye about them as a conversation starter.
That was honestly more than he hoped for. He needed someone outgoing and unbothered by small talk because personally, he hated it. Full stop. His partner had to be willing to do it for both of them.
After she’d met everyone, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love one. Whatever you’d think I’d like.”
“Is this a test?”
“Only if you want it to be.” She shrugged. “I’ll try anything once so do your worst. My sweet tooth can take it.”
He decided to play it safe with an iced vanilla latte with lavender cold foam.
Tantivy’s lavender lattes were seasonal only—restricted to spring—and intensely popular.
Customers not only counted down the days to their return, but also to trying the new floral flavor combinations his team cooked up.
He wanted each of his stores to have its own personality and encouraged his employees to make it happen by engaging with the community.
Zinnia took pictures of her drink and white chocolate lemon drop cookie as soon as they sat down at a table. He picked the quietest corner near the back mural wall, directly next to the bakery.
“This is so impressive,” Zinnia said as she typed on her phone. “And you really did this all by yourself?”
“No.” That self-made entrepreneur bullshit never sat right with him. “I worked with a lot of talented contractors. This place doesn’t run without my team. Neither does my first store.”
He had his heart set on building a chain, stretching from one end of California to the other. In-N-Out was synonymous with the West Coast. He wanted the same for Tantivy.
“Two whole stores already. Wow. I’m still stuck in my bedroom. I mean, that’s where we keep everything—the inventory. In my closet.”
“Everyone starts somewhere and you’re honestly killing it. Your branding and engagement rate is unreal. I know they’re all your designs, but do you contract with a social media manager?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, beaming with so much pride he felt stunned again. “Everything is in-house, just the three of us. But Fiona does freelance consultations and will occasionally take on a new client if she likes them. I can give her your info if you’re looking for someone new.”
“You’re not worried I’ll steal her from you,” he joked.
“That’s not possible.”
“I pay my employees really well. I think I could at least tempt her.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Can I ask you something serious?” She leaned forward, concentrating on him. “It’s extremely personal. It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
“Go for it.” He matched her movements until their heads were bowed together over the table.
“How do you feel about washing dishes?” she asked with a completely straight face.
“I have a dishwasher, but I don’t mind doing them by hand. I’m assuming that was your cute way to ask about chores, uh, housework?”
She nodded, giddy smile returning like the sun breaking through storm clouds. He’d never met anyone so damn expressive. Every emotion she felt flitted across her face with wild abandon. She seemed so transparent that if he stared hard enough, he was positive he’d be able to read her mind.
“Cleaning isn’t a passion of mine, but I know how to pick up after myself,” he continued.
“My cat has a death wish and won’t stop eating plastic.
I can’t leave stuff lying around for him to find.
He also sheds a lot, so I have a cleaner who comes once a month to do a deep clean reset. What about you?”
“I’m not obsessed with cleanliness, but I do need things to be in order. Neat, tidy, organized. Everything in its place. I don’t mind chores as long as we both contribute.”