Chapter 7
FELIX
“I hate these chairs,” I said, trying to find a comfortable spot and failing. Today’s coffee shop had some good points, but the furniture wasn’t one of them.
“I hate all the blonde wood,” said Maddie. “I feel like I’m being attacked by Scandinavian rip-off design.”
“I’d prefer to be attacked by actual Scandinavians,” I agreed. “Pillaging Vikings would at least be interesting.”
“God, I’d hate to be pillaged.”
“Did you just quote The Pirate Movie?” I asked, trying not to laugh. Barely anyone remembered the goofy 1980s Pirates of Penzance-based farce, and Maddie was definitely too young to remember it.
“No, absolutely not. That would imply that I owned a VHS player.”
“You do not,” I said, laughing.
“I do, actually. I had an uncle who owned a Blockbuster franchise. After he passed, we found stacks of VHS tapes in his basement, and my parents thought anything that was a musical was probably appropriate for kids.”
I laughed. “But it really is not.”
“Nope. Didn’t stop me from watching it on repeat. I didn’t even get the pillaging joke until I was in college, and then I was kind of offended. How did you find it?”
I didn’t want to admit that, due to Shifter aging, I’d actually seen it in theaters.
“There was a period when I only had rabbit ears in college. They used to play it on some channel on repeat for the midnight movie for some reason.”
I hoped that rabbit ears were still a reference that made sense.
“It is a movie that would make more sense while stoned,” agreed Maddie, leaping to the natural college inference.
“Rude of you to assume. Not incorrect, but still rude.”
Maddie grinned unrepentantly. “I should add it to the Deja Brew movie club list.”
“There’s a movie club?”
“And two book clubs. I put movies on a list, and then people vote. Once a month, we open after hours for popcorn and movies, but we always have someone who looks up facts and shares little points of interest. People like sing-along movies. The point is to have a group experience and make friends.”
Once again, I was struck by the way Maddie had gone out of her way to build a community.
I wasn’t sure how we were going to bottle that for a second location.
I thought we needed to create some systems that would make Maddie’s ideas easy to handle.
It would also probably take a manager who fully embraced the Deja Brew ethos.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it. It was a text message from my brother.
I tried to call, but I think I messed up the message. These phones don’t have proper buttons. Would like to talk. Can you call me?
And that explained the blank voicemail. I’d assumed I was a butt dial and put the call out of my head.
“You look kind of worried,” said Maddie. “Is everything OK?”
“My brother wants to talk to me, and I have no idea why.”
“Maybe it’s something good?” she offered, looking worried on my behalf.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I looked at the phone again, trying to decide if I wanted to call and get it over with or put it off and do nothing.
“I think we should go, and then you can call at home, where you’ll feel less anxious.”
I opened my mouth to deny that I felt any anxiety and then realized she was right.
“I’m starting to think you’re psychic,” I said, and she froze.
“No,” she said with an awkward laugh. “That’s ridiculous. I mean, if I were psychic, then half the clientele of Deja Brew would be mythical creatures!”
“It is a magical place,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure that all the creatures are based in reality.” Most of them. Not me, obviously. But all the other humans.
“Right!” she agreed. “Totally a hundred percent real! That’s us!”
I laughed. Maddie was so sweet and goofy at the same time.
I loved her playful side. I almost held out my hand as I got up, but pulled it back in the nick of time.
These research trips were starting to seem more and more like dates.
I was going to have to say something because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go without telling Maddie how I felt.
MADDIE
We stepped out of the coffee shop and stood under their striped awning.
It was my favorite part of their establishment.
I wondered if I got an awning and a heat lamp or two, if I could extend Deja Brew’s outdoor seating for another few months.
I noticed, however, that the awning was sagging under the weight of accumulated rainwater.
Getting an awning would mean my employees had to manage it.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to add that duty to their job list.
“You’re thinking about getting an awning, aren’t you?” asked Felix, coming out after me.
I blushed in embarrassment, but he grinned.
“This is why Deja Brew is a success,” he said. “And why people love it. You’re always looking for ways to make it better.”
“You really think Deja Brew is special?” I asked, but what I meant to ask was, did he think I was special.
“Very,” he responded, shoving his hands into his pockets but leaning into me.
I reached up to straighten the lapel on his jacket and edged closer. He smelled like something masculine and woodsy, and I wanted to rub my face in his T-shirt. Well, I wanted to rub my face all over him, but I would happily start with his shirt.
The sun was warm on my head, negating the slightly chill breeze that was trying to remind everyone that it could rain again. The world seemed soft and hazy as I looked up into his face.
I curled my hand into the lapel of Felix’s jacket as he leaned closer, closing the gap between our bodies.
I could feel the heat of him, and I resisted the urge to fling my arms around his neck.
This was a kiss moment, right? I held my breath and tried not to embarrass myself.
I just wanted this to be perfect. Was that too much to ask?
And then, like a flickering TV coming to life, my future vision pushed a new image into my head.
Stanhope Wallace, Mr. Baristas-Aren’t-Welcome himself, was about to come around the corner, and he would use his umbrella to tip the water off the awning and onto Felix.
He carried an umbrella? What kind of Northwest native carried an umbrella?
Stanhope Wallace needed to learn not to mess with baristas.
The vision was crystal clear. But I’d already done one too many weird things in front of Felix.
He’d looked really suspicious after the pistachio incident.
If I prevented this, would I scare Felix off?
The vision of Stanhope’s smug, laughing face popped to the forefront of my mind. How could I let him win?