4 Lattes #2
“We could really use that money, Pop. If it is real, and I’m totally not convinced it is, I’d rather see it going toward the house. Something useful.”
“Willa …” Pop started.
“Pop, no, don’t …”
“This is such a huge opportunity for you!”
“It’s only an opportunity if it’s something I want.” I said it too quickly and realized my mistake at once. I’d forgotten I was sitting next to the person who knew me better than anyone, even better than Lennie.
“Just promise me you’ll look into it. Give the attorney’s office a call and talk things through, see what’s what.” Pop’s blue eyes glistened in the firelight.
“What’s what is that I’ll make us hot chocolate and we can watch a show instead.”
All week I’d found myself thinking about James. When I remembered his sad eyes, my hand in his, I gave myself that rush of electricity all over again. But after the last nerve danced up my spine, leaving a smile on my face, I’d remember April. The girlfriend. Fiancée. Whatever.
Lennie jumped on me in the hallway at school that Friday. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Not much,” I said, snapping into reality.
“Well, guess what?” Lennie was clearly about to burst with her own news.
“What?”
“I mean, you can totally say no and it would be fine. Like I won’t be offended at all, and I’d completely respect your opinion, but …”
“Len! Just say it!” I told her.
“Sara asked if I wanted to go get pizza with her … tonight.”
Lennie clamped her hand over her mouth so I could only see her sparkling eyes.
“Oh my God, really?” This was big for her. I hugged her tight.
“But it’s Friday. Movie night …” Lennie looked at me sadly.
It hadn’t even occurred to me. “Len, come on. We can have movie night anytime. We could have Tuesday movie night for all I care.”
Lennie looked relieved. “Thanks, Will, you’re the best. What will you do instead? Hopefully not hang with your pop … I mean as cool as Mike Taylor is, it’s a bit tragic hanging out with an old man on a Friday night.”
“I’ll tell him you said that,” I laughed.
But even I knew my laugh sounded forced.
Friday-night movies were our thing, and this was the first time we’d ever canceled for someone else.
I didn’t mind, of course I didn’t. I was excited for Lennie, but it kind of just highlighted the lack of romance in my life.
“Oh my God, you could ask out Carter? Avery and Krista are literally dying with jealousy that he’s so into you.” Lennie laughed.
“He is not! He’s just being friendly. Oak Falls manners, remember.” I laughed too. Then James came uninvited into my head again, making my stomach flip. “I might just go to the Little Acorn. James and I had a look at the accounts last week.”
“Oh, James and I,” Lennie teased. “I suggested the wrong hot guy …”
As it turned out, Pop wasn’t even at home that night, since he was out on a complicated job.
So I did put on my black duffel coat and my green scarf to walk to the Little Acorn. I had my own keys and planned to spend the evening looking through the accounts after it closed at six.
But it was almost eight now, and the lights were still on. When I opened the door, the soft yellow lamps and the orange glow from the string lights welcomed me in. I was thankful for the heat that blasted my face after the fall chill.
“Hello?” I called, closing and locking the door behind me.
“Red?” I heard from somewhere in the back.
“I don’t know who that is,” I said, grinning even though he couldn’t see me.
James walked out in blue jeans and a green T-shirt. I genuinely had to steady myself against the doorframe as a rush of heat swept over me. He looked like he’d just come from some casting call for jocks, the way his hair swept to one side and part of his shirt was stuck in his belt.
“What are you doing here?” But the way he said it made me think he was pleased.
I took off my scarf and my coat, walking past him to hang them up; then I rubbed my hands together, trying to absorb the heat from the coffee shop. “We have accounts to look at and a Harvest Festival to plan.”
James nodded. “Well, I kind of had the same idea.” He waved me over to a table in the corner where the book of accounts was lying open beside a notebook. We sat down and I picked up the notebook and flicked through it.
“Just some ideas,” he said, like he was embarrassed.
“Pumpkin decorating. Bake sale. Raffle … These are …”
“Stupid, basic … boring?” He tried to take the notebook from me, but I swerved away.
“I was going to say kind of perfect? Basically exactly the same as I’ve been thinking …”
I looked into his deep brown eyes and saw something else for the first time. “You really do care about this?”
“Dad’s coffee shop? Of course I care …”
“It’s hard to tell sometimes.” I smiled, keeping it light.
He pushed his hand through his hair again. “Yeah, well, it’s kind of complicated. Coffee?” He walked over to the machine and started pushing buttons.
“Sure. Thanks.” Complicated was right.
For the next hour we worked on our plans to take the Little Acorn out of the shop and into the square for Harvest Festival.
We planned activities and special drinks to raise money, arguing over whether anyone would pay to guess the weight of a hay bale.
At some point we moved closer to each other and our shoulders pressed together.
It was warm, and I’d taken off my sweater.
I was wearing a cami underneath, so parts of our bare skin touched, and my whole body felt it. That charge again, like lightning.
When we were laughing about hay bales, that was when he suggested it.
“What about a kissing booth?” he asked. Was he serious?!
“What?” I grinned and pushed his arm.
“What do you mean, what? It’s for the Kissing Tree, so it is kind of relevant.”
“No way!”
“Why? Scared we’d make too much money?” This was the most playful I’d seen him.
“Scared I’d have to kiss random tourists. Gross.”
His eyes twinkled. “What if it was just me in the booth, then?”
“Then we wouldn’t make any money at all. The Kissing Tree and the Little Acorn would be doomed.” I made a sad face and caught his smile as he looked at me, then away again.
“Ouch, Red. You never did tell me who you kissed there …”
My cheeks flushed and I looked at the notebook, picking up the pen and doodling in the corner.
“Nobody. I mean I never carved my name there. I just like what it means …”
“You sure?” he asked. His voice was low and deep. “Not even when you were what, ten? Eleven? And you’d stolen someone’s baseball?”
My hand moved reflexively to my mouth. “You remember?”
I knew it. He’d known the whole time. And then my stomach flipped as something else hit me. If he remembered the kiss, it meant it had mattered to him too.
“Red, you stole my baseball and I stole your first kiss. Not my finest moment.”
“We were just kids …”
“Maybe we could …”
And before he could finish his sentence, I kissed him, and the electricity that had surged through my body when he touched my arm?
It was nothing compared to this voltage.
My whole body was alive with nerve endings just desperate to be touched.
Our tongues collided and his hands were in my hair, teasing at strands, while my hand rested on his jaw, feeling it move rhythmically with mine.
We were breathless when we broke apart.
“We should …” I started.
“Plan the fundraiser?” he asked.
“I was going to say … do that again.”