2. Are these oyster crackers?
Two
ARE THESE OYSTER CRACKERS?
Liv
“If nothing else,” Viv says through the phone, “even if he’s dumb as rocks, there’s nothing wrong with a one-night stand.”
I’m not exactly sure how the conversation ended up going in this direction.
“For goodness’ sake, Vivian,” I say, exasperated.
“A woman’s got needs, Liv.” It’s frustrating because it’s true.
“Okay, I’m gonna go.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Can’t wait to hear all about it!” Viv singsongs.
“There will be nothing to hear about!”
I end the call, and my stomach does a small anticipatory somersault as I haul open the tinted door to Bean & Brew.
The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans welcomes me.
Today's warmer weather called for a deep-pink pencil skirt matched with a cream-colored sleeveless blouse.
I often prefer wedges over heels, but I chose the nude three-inch heels today.
To prove I wasn’t trying to look my best, my glasses are on and my hair is in a low knot at the nape of my neck.
I certainly couldn’t care less what a particular man—who occupied the corner yesterday morning—might think of how I look.
If I had, my hair would have been in a high, tight ponytail to accentuate my neck, and I’d have worn contacts instead of my glasses. This is, at least, what I tell myself.
I scan the coffee shop because this is a normal, everyday thing for me to do, not because I’m looking for anyone in particular.
I don’t see him though. A couple of guys with man-buns and beards occupy the area where he sat the day before.
I’m not disappointed. I didn’t get dressed for him today. Besides, I didn’t really want to see him again because I’m busy and just… don’t… have time.
My phone vibrates in my purse. Viv’s face lights up the screen.
“Seriously? We just got off the phone two minutes ago.”
“I just talked to Cori. She has mono.” Her tone is dismal.
“Mono? Like the kissing disease kids got in high school? That’s still a thing?
” The line at the counter moves another step forward.
Before I know it, I’m at the counter, signaling to Claire with my fingers how many coffees I need so as not to interrupt Viv’s recount of her conversation with Cori.
She’s officially out sick, and not just for a few days—we’re talking weeks.
Not ideal, but we can make this work.
I step off to the side of the counter, but my high heel snags on the rug's fringe, sending me backward.
Oh shit! My arms are flailing, my phone goes flying, and in an incredibly ungraceful way, I crash down on the polished hardwood floor flat on my ass.
On any other day, I’d scramble to my feet as quickly as possible, but the pencil skirt has me trapped. I roll to the side and scoot my knees under me, so I’m on all fours.
Very graceful. Facing the floor, I take a quick inventory of the situation. My glasses are askew, my hair has come loose, the cell phone I was holding is on the floor somewhere, and my purse is lying on its side just out of reach. My ego is a little bruised, but it could be so much worse.
“Need a hand?” A voice reaches out, sending a burning warmth through my chest like a shot of whiskey. It’s a little rough around the edges, and without even needing to look, I know the owner of this voice is none other than Coffee Shop Hottie.
There it is. Things just got worse.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as embarrassment washes over me. Flustered, I use one hand and reach for something, anything, to pull myself up.
I grip thick fabric and close my eyes, trying to gain composure as I tug myself into a kneeling position. When I open my eyes, I’m face to face with this man’s impressive crotch.
I freeze, eyes wide, glasses still crooked.
I suck in a breath through my nose and catch the familiar scent of oak and butterscotch.
The combo is intoxicating, and my eyes drift closed again.
But I still have my hand planted on his wonderfully muscular thigh, and when that awareness takes hold, I yank it back with a gasp.
A soft chuckle rumbles as his large hand, calloused palm up, comes into view.
Reluctantly, I reach for it. His grip is gentle but firm as he pulls me to my feet with little effort, holding my hand until I’m steady.
“Easy there, Trip.” His voice coils around me, heating me from the inside out.
Yup, this is a voice I’ll be dreaming about for the foreseeable future.
“I…” I straighten my glasses and tuck a loose lock of blonde hair behind my ear. I look up through my lashes, pretending I’m not completely humiliated. His eyes are not quite gray but not quite green either. Framed with long, light brown eyelashes, they sparkle with mischief as they scan my face.
“I, uh…” My voice is breathy at first, overcome with the proximity to such a physical specimen with whom I just made an intimate connection via his crotch.
Hang on a minute…
“I’m sorry, what did you call me?” I can hear Viv yelling my name through the phone from somewhere on the floor nearby.
“And here I thought all you fancy New York City ladies were supposed to be graceful,” he says playfully, letting go of my hand and leaning down to collect my phone and bag.
Viv’s voice rings loud and clear through the receiver.
She’s clearly confused. Coffee Shop Hottie lifts it to his ear and says, “Hello? Easy, easy, easy. She’s right here.
She took a bit of a tumble, but—” Pause.
His eyes dart toward me, and then he lets loose a breathy laugh.
“I mean, sure, I suppose that could be me.”
What the hell does he think he’s doing talking on my phone? My hand shoots out, stealing the phone from his oversized grip.
“Excuse me, sir! That is mine!” I scoff. “The audacity.”
I try not to notice the way his devious smile nearly disarms my frustration. “Viv, let me call you back.” I end the call, not waiting for her reply.
I look up to find him admiring the inside of my purse. “I gotta tell ya, Trip, this is one very organized bag. Are these oyster crackers?” He brings the bag closer to his face.
“They make a great snack!” I snap. “Hasn’t anyone told you never to go through a woman’s purse?” I glare at him, attempting to shoot daggers with my eyes as I yank the bag from his hands.
“To be fair”—he grins, holding up his hands, palms facing me—“I didn’t actually go through it. It was wide open. I was just trying to be a gentleman and pick it up for you. Most people would say, ‘Thank you.’”
This man is as infuriating as he is attractive.
“Oh, please.” I drop the phone into my purse with an eye roll and hike it up on my shoulder, only just now realizing the entire coffee shop is watching this exchange. He seems completely unfazed. I, however, am mortified.
Claire comes into view and appears as shocked as I am at the events of the last several moments.
“Are you okay?” she asks, wide-eyed. Her gaze darts between Coffee Shop Hottie and me as she holds out my order.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m great. Thank you.” I reach for my coffee.
“So…” he clears his throat. With his hands in his pockets, amusement plays across his face. “Hot guy from the coffee shop?” He has the nerve to flash a panty-dropping grin with those unbelievably kissable lips.
Hm. His teeth aren’t perfect. In fact, he has one slightly crooked tooth, and it’s so much more appealing than a perfect, straight-tooth smile.
No! It is not appealing. He’s obnoxious, and you are leaving.
His question sinks in, and at that moment, I’m reasonably sure I’m going to murder my best friend.
With eyes as wide as saucers and my mouth gaping like a dying fish, there is nothing ladylike about me right now.
Any attempt at keeping my composure flies out the window in front of this gorgeously antagonistic man.
“What?! No, absolutely not. I… I have to go. I have to go.” I turn away, bee-lining for the door, needing to escape this situation as quickly as possible.
“Hang on a second, Trip.” He follows me toward the door.
I spin around. “Why do you keep calling me that?!”
It hits me like a freight train.
“OH. Hilarious. You’re making fun of me because I tripped?” Shaking my head, I reiterate, “Really, I need to go.” I push through the door before he can say anything else.
“Vivian Marie, I am going to murder you!” I yell as I walk into her office. She’s sitting, hands clasped under her chin, a broad smile on her face. I level her with a glare.
“Okay, but before you do… Liv—his voice—you were right!” she squeals, completely ignoring my anger. “You look stunning, by the way!”
“Thank you. I can’t believe you asked him if he was the hot guy from the coffee shop!” I push her latte toward her, then plop onto the loveseat along the windows, dropping my head onto the back of the couch with a loud sigh.
Viv rounds the side of her desk and joins me on the couch, sitting sideways with one foot tucked under her leg.
“Tell me everything,” she says, as if I didn’t just have the most humiliating experience of my life.