6. Trinity
Trinity
I hadn’t expected him to say yes. As I navigated Macy’s giant SUV through the narrow downtown streets, I glanced over at Oliver. His fingers tapped along to the beat of the pop radio station.
“How long have you been in the States?”
“A couple of years. I finished university back home then wanted to come here for my MBA.”
The early morning sun came through the passenger side window, highlighting the scruff on his cheeks.
I loved a man who was a little rough around the edges.
So far Oliver seemed to hit all of my buttons.
Might be nice to enjoy the company of the buff bartender while he was still around.
The fact that he was on a visa meant that he’d be leaving soon, so there was no chance of getting attached.
“How about you?” he asked.
How about me? Good question. I usually deflected any attempt to share my story. But Oliver didn’t know my family. He had no idea I was the single disappointment in a long line of successful siblings. He was probably one of the only people in Newbridge who was blissfully ignorant of my family name.
“I didn’t actually finish my degree.” I looked over to gauge his reaction. He didn’t flinch. Bonus points for the Kiwi. “I started but got bored.”
He nodded. “College isn’t for everyone. I’m the first one in my family to go.”
“Really?” I took a longer look. What might that feel like? To be the first at something and not always be following in someone else’s larger, more successful footsteps? “Your mom? Dad? Siblings? No one else has been to college?”
His fingers stopped tapping, and he bristled. “No. Is that so hard to believe?”
I put my hand on his. Now I’d gone and offended him. That hadn’t been my intent. “I’m sorry. It’s just that my entire family has advanced degrees. I’m kind of the black sheep of my siblings.”
“So we have something in common.” His lips curved up into a smile, and he pulled his hand out from under mine, leaving my palm to rest against his leg. His muscles tensed under my touch.
I let my palm linger for a moment, enjoying the way his denim-clad thigh felt under my hand. Maybe a fling with the bartender from Down Under would be just the way to celebrate being back in town. “Have you been to the Roastery yet?”
“No. I don’t get out much. Between classes and work, I’m pretty tied up.” He set his arm on the window ledge and peered out. We were driving along the river, not far from Macy’s place.
“It’s one of my favorite spots. Good coffee too.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We drove a few minutes in silence, with only the sound of the radio between us. By the time I found a spot on the street and managed to parallel park the giant vehicle, I was ready for a super-sized shot of caffeine.
The place was busy for a weekday morning.
Or maybe business had picked up in the years I’d been away.
It had always felt like one of my secret places, off the beaten track.
But now, a long line threaded through the small interior.
I stepped behind a man in a dark suit. Reminded me of my oldest brother and for a moment my heart stuttered to a stop.
Then he turned, and I caught a glimpse of a full-on beard.
No way Randall would sport facial hair. I wasn’t looking forward to the family dinner on Saturday.
No need to rush into a spontaneous interaction with one of my siblings unless it was absolutely necessary.
By the time we reached the front of the line, I was desperate for caffeine.
We placed our orders, then found a table on the small patio overlooking the river.
A giant umbrella held the strong morning sun at bay.
No doubt it would be humid later, but for now I enjoyed the chance to breathe in some fresh air and appreciate the great outdoors.
“What’s the weather like in New Zealand this time of year?” I asked.
He eased into the chair next to me. “Opposite of here. You’re heading into summer and we’re heading into winter back home.”
“That’s right. Does it get cold where you’re from?”
“It can. We typically hover around four or five degrees.”
“That’s awful.”
“Celsius, not Fahrenheit.” He ran a finger along the wooden tabletop. “You forget, we’re metric. Not like you backward Americans.”
“Hey, now.” I grinned. Bantering back and forth with Oliver was becoming one of my favorite pastimes. “Have you always wanted to be a bartender?”
“Absolutely. Mixing up fruity cocktails and pulling pints for a never-ending line of customers at the bar…who wouldn’t want that kind of lifestyle.” He picked up his cup. My gaze followed the rim as he tipped it toward his lips.
“Really, though. What do you want to do after you graduate?”
He swallowed and waited a beat. “I’m not sure. There’s a bit of a disconnect right now over what I’d like to do and what I’m expected to do.”
If anyone could relate to that statement, I could. I’d lived my entire life balancing between “shoulds” and “wants.” But what did he mean by that? He gazed into his mug, like maybe his cup of coffee held the answers.
“You have someone waiting on you back home?”
He nodded. My heart sank. Of course he did. Someone as charming and good-looking as Oliver probably had a hometown honey waiting for him to come back.
I shifted in my chair and cleared my throat. “She’s a lucky woman.”
Glancing up, his brow furrowed. “What makes you say that?”
“Well look at you.” I waved a hand at him. “You’re what we Americans might call the whole package.”
“Really?” He sat up straighter in his chair. “Is that a compliment?”
“Sure,” I rambled on. “You’ve got the looks, the brains, the brawn.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know that my mother and sister are necessarily attracted to those particular attributes.”
“What?” My vision fuzzed at the edges. He said he had someone waiting on him back home. He had to have meant a girlfriend.
“The only people waiting on me to come back are my mom, dad, and sister.” Humor sparkled in the depths of his eyes.
“Oh, right.” Open mouth, insert entire leg. I usually held my own against attractive men. What was it about Oliver that threw me off my game and made me sound like a complete idiot?
“So you really think I’m the whole package?” He leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table.
Let the backpedaling begin. “Sure. I bet you’ll make someone a great package someday.”
The rich timbre of his laughter filled my ears, pulling at something deep inside. “Thanks. Maybe we should turn the conversation away from talking about my package, what do you say?”
Even the tips of my ears heated at that remark. I’d flirted with men around the world. Either I was out of practice or the man sitting across the table disarmed me completely.
“So what’s next for you? After graduation? For real this time?” I asked, preferring to turn the chatter back to something safe and neutral.
He shrugged, lifting those broad shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m hoping to find something to keep me in the States. Otherwise, it’s back home to help out with the family business.”
“Which is?”
He hesitated. “Agriculture.”
“You’re a farmer?” I meant it as a joke, but his face darkened.
“No. The South Island is famous for its wine.”
“Sorry. So your family works in the wine industry?” Now the bartending gig made sense.
“Right.” He leaned back, resting against the back of his chair. “How about you? You haven’t told me what kind of business you’re opening. Don’t you think I ought to know, seeing as how we’ll be neighbors?”
“It’s not a secret.”
“Then tell me.”
I took in a deep breath. The only person I’d shared my dream with was my grandmother. Not even Macy knew about my plans, although the time was coming up fast where I’d have to start talking about it if I wanted to make it a reality.
“I’m opening an art space.”
“But not a gallery?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. A place where artists can rent out studio space, so they have a place to work, and I’ll manage a little retail shop, so they have a place to sell their creations.”
“That sounds really cool.” His smile seemed genuine.
I let out a little bit of the breath I’d been holding. Oliver’s acceptance put me at ease. Why had I been so nervous about his reaction? It’s not like what he thought would matter one way or another. I barely knew the man.
“Where did you get that idea?” He drained his coffee while he waited for me to answer.
“My grandmother and I used to talk about it.” Admitting it to him felt like pulling a bandage off of an old wound… a little bit freeing and a little bit painful at the same time.
“She must be really proud of you for making it happen.”
I nodded. “She is.” Or at least she would have been if she were still alive. That tidbit of info wasn’t ready to be shared. It was still too raw, too painful. I stood, pushing back from the table. “You ready to go? I have to get Macy’s car back to her.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed our empty cups and moved toward the exit. “How are you going to get back and forth to the warehouse without a car?”
“I’ll take the bus. It’s not bad.” I beeped the key fob. “I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do over the next few days. I might just set up an air mattress and sleep on the floor over there.”
“You’re welcome to crash at my place.”
My gaze shot to his face. He looked just as surprised as I was that those words had come out of his mouth. At the mere mention of sharing space with Oliver, my insides turned into a mix of ooey gooey mush.
“I just meant, you can use the bathroom or pass out on the couch if you get tired of the back and forth.” He shrugged as he reached to open my door for me. “Seeing as how we’re both black sheep and all.”
I brushed by him as I climbed into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, we’ll see.” Thankfully my voice came out steady and strong, not an accurate reflection of the mishmash of emotions ricocheting around inside.
Oliver walked around the back of the vehicle. I kept track of him in the rear-view mirror as he muttered to himself, probably already regretting the offer.
As he climbed in, I cranked the tunes. No need to talk about the sudden awkwardness between us. He didn’t say a word, just pulled his seatbelt across his middle and clicked it into place.
I turned the key and waited for the engine to catch. Nothing happened.
I glanced over at Oliver who had his eyes trained ahead and tried again.
Still nothing.
“Everything okay?” He turned to me, his gorgeous brown eyes full of question.
One more time ,I turned the key. A clicking noise started but the engine stayed silent. I reached out to dial down the volume on the radio. “I think we have a problem.”