Chapter 2
two
. . .
Bennett Cross
I can't focus.
The brief I'm supposed to be reviewing sits open on my desk, words blurring together into meaningless shapes.
I've read the same paragraph four times and still have no idea what it says.
My coffee-stained shirt is draped over the back of my chair, replaced by the spare I keep in my office for emergencies.
The ruined suit jacket is balled up in the corner, forgotten.
All I can think about is her.
Hannah.
The way she looked at me when I laughed instead of getting angry. The way her cheeks flushed when I asked her name. The way her voice went breathless when I told her I was coming back for her.
I lean back in my chair and run a hand through my hair, glancing at the clock on my computer screen. 11:47. Two hours and thirteen minutes until her shift ends. This is insane.
I've spent the last six years building Cross & Cross into one of the most respected firms in Silver Lake. I've won cases that other attorneys wouldn't touch. I've worked eighty-hour weeks without blinking. I've sacrificed relationships, friendships, weekends, holidays, all in the name of success.
And now I'm sitting here, unable to think about anything except a woman who spilled coffee on me this morning.
A woman I've walked past every single day for six months without really seeing her.
How did I miss her?
How did I not notice the way her smile lights up her entire face? The way she moves behind the counter with easy confidence, laughing with customers, making everyone feel welcome? The way her eyes are this warm, golden brown that makes me think of honey and sunlight?
I've been so buried in work that life has been happening right across the street, and I didn't even know it.
There's a knock on my door.
"Come in," I call, not looking up from the brief I'm still pretending to read.
Richard walks in, closing the door behind him. He's my business partner, my closest friend, and the only person who can get away with interrupting me when I'm working. He drops into the chair across from my desk, eyebrows raised.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Fine. Why?"
"Because you've been staring at that same page for the last twenty minutes. And you're smiling."
I glance up. "I'm not smiling."
"You are. It's weird. You never smile when you're working." He leans forward, studying me. "What happened? Did we win the Morrison case?"
"Not yet."
"Then what?"
I close the brief and set it aside. There's no point pretending I'm going to get any work done. "Nothing. Just... thinking."
"About?"
"Nothing important."
Richard grins. "You're lying. You're terrible at lying. What's going on?"
I hesitate, then shake my head. "It's nothing. Really."
"Bennett." He crosses his arms. "We've known each other our whole lives. I know when something's up. So either tell me, or I'm going to assume you're having some kind of midlife crisis and start planning an intervention."
I laugh despite myself. "I'm thirty-two. That's not midlife."
"Close enough. Now talk."
I lean back in my chair, debating how much to tell him. Finally, I say, "I met someone."
His eyebrows shoot up. "You met someone? As in, a woman?"
"Yes, Richard. A woman."
"When? Where? How?"
"This morning. At the coffee shop."
He stares at me. "You mean the barista? The one who's been making your coffee for months?"
"Her name is Hannah."
"I know her name. Everyone knows her name. She's the only reason half the guys in this building go to that coffee shop." He's grinning now, clearly enjoying this. "Wait. Did you finally ask her out?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what happened?"
I tell him about the coffee spill. About the way she apologized over and over, mortified, while I stood there realizing I'd been an idiot for six months. About the way she looked at me when I asked her name. About the way my chest tightened when I told her I was coming back for her.
By the time I finish, Richard is laughing so hard he's wiping tears from his eyes.
"You're telling me," he says between gasps, "that it took her dumping an entire cup of coffee on you for you to finally notice her?"
"Apparently."
"That's the most Bennett thing I've ever heard."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're so focused on work that you need a literal disaster to snap you out of it." He shakes his head, still grinning. "So what now? You're taking her to lunch?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"The food truck by the lake."
He raises an eyebrow. "Not Marcello's? Not The Lakehouse?"
"No."
"Why not?"
I hesitate, trying to put it into words. "Because I don't want to impress her. I want her to feel comfortable. I want to know who she is, not who she thinks she needs to be in some fancy restaurant."
Richard's grin softens into something more genuine. "You really like her."
"I don't even know her yet."
"But you want to."
I nod. "Yeah. I do."
He stands, clapping me on the shoulder. "Good. It's about time you let yourself have a life outside this office. Just... don't screw it up, okay?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Anytime." He heads for the door, then pauses and looks back. "For what it's worth? I think she likes you too. She's been watching you every morning for months."
I blink. "What?"
"You didn't notice? Every time you walk in, she looks up. Every time you leave, she watches you go. I thought you knew."
He leaves before I can respond, and I sit there staring at the closed door.
She's been watching me.
For months.
The same way I've been thinking about her all morning.
I glance at the clock again.
12:03.
One hour and fifty-seven minutes.
I try to go back to work. I really do. But it's useless. Every time I look at the brief, I see Hannah's face instead. The way her eyes widened when I told her she was stunning. The way she smiled when I said I was coming back for her.
At 1:45, I give up.
I close my laptop, grab my jacket, and head for the door.
Richard's office is across the hall, and he glances up as I pass. "Leaving early?"
"Yes."
"Hot date?"
"Something like that."
He grins. "Good luck."
I don't respond, just keep walking. The elevator feels too slow, so I take the stairs, my heart pounding harder with every step. By the time I reach the lobby, I'm practically jogging.
The coffee shop is across the street, and I can see Hannah through the window. She's behind the counter, laughing at something her coworker said, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looks relaxed. Happy.
Beautiful.
I check my watch.
1:52.
Eight minutes.
I lean against the brick wall outside the shop, hands in my pockets, trying to look casual. Trying not to think about the fact that I'm about to take a woman I barely know to lunch and I'm more nervous than I've been in years.
What if she changed her mind?
What if she was just being polite this morning?
What if I'm reading this whole thing wrong?
The door opens, and a customer walks out, the bell chiming above them. I glance through the window again and see Hannah glancing at the clock on the wall.
The knot in my chest loosens.
At exactly 2:00, the door opens again, and Hannah steps out. She's changed out of her apron, and she's wearing jeans and a soft gray sweater that makes her eyes look even warmer. Her hair is down now, falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
She sees me and stops, her eyes widening slightly. "Hi," she says.
"Hi."
She glances around, like she's not sure what to do with her hands. "You're here."
"I said I would be."
"I know. I just..." She trails off, then laughs softly. "I wasn't sure if you were serious."
I step closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume, something light and floral that makes me want to lean in. "I was serious."
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down, smiling. "Okay."
"Ready?"
"Yeah. Let me just—" She pulls her phone out of her pocket, then hesitates. "Where are we going?"
"There's a taco truck by the lake."
Her face lights up. "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered."
She bites her lip, and something soft crosses her expression. "That's really sweet."
"It's the truth."
We start walking, and for the first few minutes, neither of us says anything. It's not awkward, exactly, but there's a tension in the air, anticipation, maybe. Or nerves.
Hannah breaks the silence first. "So how was the rest of your morning? After the whole... coffee incident."
I laugh. "Unproductive. I couldn't focus on anything."
"Because of your ruined suit?"
"No. Because of you."
She glances up at me, surprised. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I've been walking past you every morning for six months and I never really saw you. And now that I have, I can't stop."
She's quiet for a moment, and when I glance down at her, her cheeks are pink again. "That's... really sweet."
"It's the truth."
We turn the corner, and the lake comes into view. The water is calm today, reflecting the sky like a mirror. The food truck is parked near the shore, a bright yellow trailer with a hand-painted sign that says Taco Heaven.
Hannah stops walking, staring at it. "This is perfect."
The relief that floods through me is almost embarrassing. "Good."
We walk over to the truck, and I let her order first. She gets two fish tacos and a lemonade, and I get three carnitas tacos and a water. We find a bench near the water, and I hand her the bag of food before sitting down beside her.
She unwraps her first taco and takes a bite, her eyes closing as she chews. "Oh my God. This is amazing."
I smile, watching her. "Told you."
"How did you find this place?"
"I've lived in Silver Lake my whole life. I know all the best spots."
She takes another bite, then glances at me. "So you're a local. Born and raised?"
"Born and raised. My parents still live here. My sister moved to Seattle a few years ago, but she visits every few months."
"Do you see them a lot? Your parents?"
"Not as much as I should. Work keeps me pretty busy."
She nods, wiping her hands on a napkin. Then she reaches over and steals one of my tacos right off the wrapper.
I stare at her. "Did you just?—"