Chapter 4 #2
“All right,” she sighs and puts the bill back in her pocket.
While Lexie finds a table, I steam the milk, and Sophia hovers. “You like her.”
“Who?”
“Very funny. Lexie.”
“I don’t know her that well yet.” I pour in a shot of espresso. “But yeah, I like her.”
“That’s good, C.” She hands me a spoon. “You deserve to focus on yourself for a change. I know how much you’ve sacrificed for me.”
“It wasn’t a sacrifice.”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been your priority.”
“You always will be.”
“I get that. But you need a life of your own.”
“You make me sound like a hermit. I get out.”
Her eyebrows raise. “When was your last date?”
Too long ago to mention.
“Exactly!” She says, punctuating my silence. “Ask Lexie out again.”
“I’m planning to.”
“Yay!” She claps her hands. “That’s so cute.”
“Don’t you have some work to do?” I say, finishing off Lexie’s drink.
“My work here is to make sure you don’t screw up with the first woman you’ve been interested in since I’ve been home from college. Oh, pair that with an almond croissant,” she says, getting one from the case. “And get a pic of that latte art for social media.”
“Good thinking. That’s why I need you here.”
“Don’t start.” She rolls her eyes.
Asking her to stay in Bayside and run the café with me has become a touchy subject between us. I let it go for now and fix a coffee for myself. Sophia waves me off, reminding me to be myself, like I’m a dating novice who needs tutoring.
Lexie’s sitting at a table near the fire, fiddling with the sugar packets. I set the croissant and coffee down, noticing that she had neatly organized the sweeteners.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
She’s removed her scarf and coat, revealing a midnight-blue sweater slightly darker than her eyes.
Today, her wavy hair is pulled back in a ponytail that shows off her stunning face and the soft curve of her neck.
Two tiny moles sit below her jawline, separated by an inch of smooth skin.
I wouldn’t mind using my tongue to play connect-the-dots.
Jesus. Don’t think about licking her neck.
Lexie’s face splits into the widest of smiles when she sees her latte. “A camera!” she exclaims. “How did you get all those details?”
“Edible markers,” I reply, grabbing a seat across from her. “They dry fast and offer more versatility than foam art.”
“Clever. Do you use stencils as well?”
“Never. That feels like cheating.”
“A true artist,” she smiles, her nerves ebbing. “So, what’s this new drink?”
“Taste it and see if you can guess.”
“First, I have to get a photo.” Lexie takes out her phone and positions the cup at the angle she wants before she snaps several shots. “I wish I had my camera, but it still came out really well.” She turns her phone toward me, scrolling through the pics.
“Can you send those to me so I can post them?”
“Sure.” My phone pings, telling me she’d sent them.
“Thanks. I’ll tag you. What’s your handle?” I tried to look her up last night but didn’t find her anywhere on social media.
“I don’t have a personal account. I enjoy some of what social media has to offer, but I’d rather scroll than post, so don’t worry about tagging me.”
That’s unusual but in a good way. I’d met some women on dating apps who were selfie fanatics. It’s refreshing that Lexie’s a private person and not into that.
“I’m dying to try this,” she says, distracting my thoughts by bringing the mug to her unpainted mouth for a sip.
“What do you taste?” I ask.
“Hmm. Notes of caramel and chocolate. There’s something else.” She tastes it again and licks her lips. “A cookie, maybe?”
“You have a good palate. I went with chocolate since you liked the mocha and added caramel sauce and Biscoff syrup. How is it?”
“Perfect. Chocolate’s my vice, anything sweet, really. I ate an entire pint of chocolate brownie ice cream last night while binge-watching Sex in the City.”
I smile even though I wish she hadn’t mentioned sex. “Try the almond croissant with the latte. It should enhance the flavors of the coffee and Biscoff.”
She breaks off a piece and slides it into her mouth, chewing slowly. “I see what you mean.”
I lift my mug and watch her eat, enjoying the act of just looking at her—skin glowing beneath the Edison bulbs, her tongue sliding to the corner of her mouth to pick up the flaky bits of pastry. It’s giving me all sorts of ideas. If I stood up now, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure.
“What are you drinking?” she asks.
“A black eye,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Dark roast with two shots of espresso.”
“That sounds awful.” She wrinkles her nose, and it’s cute as fuck.
My chest vibrates with a chuckle. “I like the taste and smell of coffee; anything else gets in the way for me. But I follow the trends to offer customers a variety of choices.”
“Must be nice to run a café,” Lexie muses. “To have something of your own.”
“That was the appeal.” I glance around the warm interior, proud of what I’ve built. “What about you?” I ask. “What do you do in The Windy City?”
Her expression dims a little. “Public relations, but it’s not my passion.”
“Photography is?”
“I’m not sure I see a career for me in that,” she sighs.
“I’ve always loved art. I traveled all over when I was younger.
France. Italy. The galleries and cathedrals—they were exquisite.
It inspired me to study art history in college.
I took some photography classes, too, and found I had a knack for it. ”
“You definitely have a knack, but I’m curious to know how you ended up in PR from art history.”
Her gaze falls away, and she glances down at her mug with a slight frown.
“Art history wasn’t a practical choice. I switched my major in my second year—international business.
After graduating, I started my career in marketing.
But now, I’m looking to do something else.
” She sighs and glances back up. “That’s why I’m here—to figure out what I want to do with my life. ”
“Your solo retreat.”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods, her expression tensing as she traces the edge of her mug with her fingertips.
“An idea that sounded good in theory but is more daunting than I expected. I had all these plans to do mind-mapping and thirty-day goal setting. But here I am on day four, and I haven’t even opened my laptop.
Sorry.” She waves her hand. “That was a lot to dump on you.”
“Not at all.” I lean in, giving her an encouraging smile. “What could be more therapeutic than confiding in a relative stranger?”
“Most strangers aren’t interested in someone else’s problems.”
“I’m interested in yours.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Why?”
“Because I like you.”
“You just met me.”
“What’s time got to do with it?”
She lets out a short laugh. “That sounds like it could be a song title.”
“I might just write it.”
“You really are a charmer,” she laughs. “You must have women falling all over you.”
“Some days, it leaves quite a mess at the café,” I joke.
“I bet.”
“You think I’m a player who’s feeding you some pick-up line.”
“Not exactly,” she says after a thoughtful pause. “I don’t get the sense that you’re playing me. I just want to make it clear that the conditions of my stay haven’t changed. Dating does not fit into my plans.”
“You know what they say about best-laid plans?”
“I do. But I will hold firm to mine.”
“All right, then, there’s no harm in being friends. You’ve got a big decision to make, and in my experience, that’s much easier to do when you take a step back from the pressure. Let me help you with that.”
“Help me how?” She tilts her head.
“Are you always this skeptical, Blue?”
“Blue? Did you just give me a nickname?”
“Guess so.” I shrug. It popped out, and I’m not calling it back. “For your eyes—they’re unusual, almost navy. Never seen that color before. Unique, like a work of art.”
“Hm. Now that sounds like a pick-up line.”
“It was meant sincerely. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine either,” she quips, maybe even enjoying herself. “But to answer yours, I am initially distrusting until I understand a person’s motives.”
“Fair enough. My motive is simple. We have many spectacular views in Bayside,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “I’m offering to indulge your love of photography and encourage you to relax by being your friendly tour guide.”
“Uh-huh.” She raises one brow. “Do you offer this tour-guide service to all your Airbnb guests?”
“Nope.” I grin. “It’s strictly a VIP deal, providing a break from all the heavy thinking and guaranteeing a fun adventure to help you see things clearer.”
Lexie chews on her bottom lip, worrying over the decision. After what feels like a lifetime of me holding my breath, she replies, “That does sound good as long as you understand that they’re non-dates.”
“Got it.” I struggle not to pump my fist in the air.
But my grin widens at the prospect of spending time with her.
Lexie is a fascinating collection of opposites.
Sophisticated yet down-to-earth. Guarded yet opens up at her own pace.
Serious yet often smiles. She has a dry wit that sneaks up on you.
I don’t know what to make of her. She’s a woman of many layers, and I want nothing more than to peel back each one and discover what makes her tick.
If friendship is our starting place, so be it. It is the root of many great romances. Val and Eva have been happily married for almost forty years, and they started out as friends.
“How about this evening?” I suggest. “There’s a spot with a sunset view that you just have to see. I could pick you up at five.”
“If you tell me where we’re going, I can meet you there.”
“Door-to-door service is included in the package.”
She hesitates a moment, then says, “All right. I’ll see you at five.”
“Wear your snowpants.”