CHAPTER ONE
In The Hello - Colm
The First Hello - Five Years Ago
Could this coffee line move any slower? Colm clenched and unclenched his fists as a young brunette ahead of him cooed about all things pumpkin. It was only August twenty-seventh and the heat of summer still gripped, but Jitter Bean Coffeehouse was already peddling autumn.
“I love a pumpkin chai!” she gushed to the older man that stood between them in the line.
The old man chuckled his agreement.
I am in the lesser-known tenth circle of Dante’s Inferno.
“OMG! I love my pumpkin lip gloss. I stock up every fall,” she giggled. Her pink dress hugged hips that were positively pulsating with joy, and the happy wiggle called his attention to her apple-shaped bottom.
Does her body always vibrate when she’s happy? God, he needed coffee.
The coffee was vital not just because it was 6:48 a.m. on the last Tuesday before returning to The Land of Bad Excuses for Forgotten Homework, but because in two hours he’d be giving a talk to future special education teachers at his alma mater.
Jonathan, his freshman roommate-turned best friend-turned associate college professor, roped him into it.
Far too often, Jonathan talked him into things with his “hey buddys” over one too many cold beers.
Despite his chosen profession requiring him to speak to classrooms full of junior high students who only gave him half their attention, he hated getting up in front of people.
You could call it his kryptonite, although he was more Clark Kent than Superman.
On the outside he would appear cool as a cucumber, but inside was a tornado of anxiety.
Tight chest, throat dry, his words elusive.
A nervous jitter would vibrate through him the entire time. Still, he did it.
“Good morning. How are you?” The brunette’s greeting to the barista oozed cheer, pulling Colm away from his musings to study her as if drawing the map of a newly discovered continent.
Her thick dark hair hung loose against a paper white blazer.
The fitted skirt of her dress stopped just below the back of her delicate knees.
The fabric caressed each curve of her body creating a silhouette that was sexy, yet sweet.
Colm forced his eyes to the rows of mugs, tumblers, and bags of coffee for sale. No matter how the fabric luxuriated over her shape, staring was impolite. Besides, this woman was annoying, verbally fluttering between the barista and the old man chattering about seasonal treats while people waited.
Less chit-chat and more ordering, please.
“Hello. What would you like?” The brunette had spun to face him. Her big smile sucker-punched him with its brightness and stole his breath. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation of his response.
“What?” Why was she asking? Also, do smiles come that big? It was the type of smile that erupted like a volcano, happiness flooding all over like joyful lava.
Her dainty fingers fiddled with a gold butterfly necklace that dangled inches below her collarbone.
When Jonathan asked if he was a tits or ass man, he’d normally choose ass.
But in that moment, collarbones clinched the title of the sexiest part of a woman.
There was an urge to press his lips against this little chatterbox’s collarbone and make her purr.
Colm blinked away the thought. It wasn’t like him to objectify a woman. Even if she had a smile that paralyzed him with its brilliance.
“To drink. What would you like? My treat.” She bit her lower lip, eclipsing that big smile.
He wanted to untuck that lip and free that smile. Keep your hands to yourself… He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his grey slacks.
“Isn’t she a sweetheart?” The old man turned with admiring eyes. “Evie here is buying our drinks since we’ve been waiting so long.”
That big smile had a name. Evie. The corners of his lips tugged up as he stared at her Mediterranean blue eyes.
“They have the best pumpkin chai. That’s what Stanley and I are getting. You can join our pumpkin patch…” she paused with a nervous giggle, “…or do your own thing.”
Evie batted her eyelashes, peering up at him. At six foot five he towered over her. The top of her head, covered in shiny hair that his fingers itched to touch, would rest snug below his chin.
Dude, stop being creepy and order a goddamn drink!
“Large coffee…black,” he said clearing his throat.
“Perfect.” That big smile blasted him, causing an unfamiliar flip in his stomach.
In all the dates and two girlfriends he’d had since he was seventeen, nobody had ever made his stomach rumble like a herd of stampeding rhinos.
That was something that only happened in the romance novels that Jonathan read, convinced they contained secrets to wooing the ladies.
It did not occur in real life, but it was happening to him right now.
Spinning on her pointy pink heels, Evie ordered their drinks.
Evie. Each syllable of her name hummed like the notes of a new favorite song. Colm had never met an Evie. The name wasn’t as rare as his own, but unique enough to not be common. Just like her smile.
While he splashed cream and two sugar packets into his coffee, his gaze flicked back to her. There was a desire to retreat, yet also a desire to remain.
He’d said thank you when she ordered their drinks, but nothing more. Mom had raised him right. Respectful, though he lacked the smoothness Jonathan had to chat up a pretty girl. He was Clark Kent, after all.
Hesitation lurked as he glanced at Evie, who still waited at the end of the counter for her drink. The alluring melody of her voice tangoed around him. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to ask her to join him.
She’s sunshine. You’re a storm cloud. With a self-defeated shrug, he pivoted from where Evie waited for her drink.
In the sea of early morning patrons munching on stale pastries and drinking fancy coffees over laptops and cellphones, he located an isolated table tucked in the corner.
He tried to focus on his breathing and ignore the distracting soundtrack of hushed chatter, chairs being pulled out, and the hissing espresso machine.
The outside world often drained him. He drank up the solitude with his coffee while reviewing his notes for his talk.
“Hello.” A honey sweet voice pierced his concentration.
Evie stood in front of his two-person table, an unabashed grin on her pretty face. Her delicate fingers clenched her coffee cup. Evie danced around the cup in fat cursive letters. Writing wasn’t prone to dance, but damn if her name didn’t appear to be doing just that.
“Hello.” It was a statement punctuated with questioning.
“This place is as busy as the cantina from Star Wars.” She gestured around at the full tables and clusters of waiting customers. “Except way fewer bounty hunters. At least, I think. There are a few sketchy looking folks in here.”
Colm nodded, not getting the reference. “I’ve never seen Star Wars.”
“I thought the sci-fi fairytale was a rite of passage for all millennials?”
“My mom never let me watch anything that she deemed killy.”
“Killy?”
“Violent.”
Evie tipped her head to the right and scrunched her face. “I wouldn’t say it’s that killy.”
He smiled at her use of his mom’s word, “killy.” As if she was learning his native tongue. Learning him.
“Well, there was something about shooting wombats that mom found objectionable,” he explained.
She nodded. “Makes sense. Animal cruelty shouldn’t be tolerated. Come to think of it there are some other red flags with those movies. Like the weird incest angle when you find out Princess Leia is Luke’s sister.”
Quiet settled over them as they stared at each other. Was it seconds? Or hours? He wasn’t sure.
“So…” There was another bite of that pink bottom lip and an anxious tug of her necklace. “Feel free to say no, but would you mind if I sat with you?”
Colm blinked at the empty seat across from him.
When was the last time a stranger asked to sit with him?
Especially such a pretty one. There were people on the bus or at the movies that asked if a seat was taken, but never to sit with you.
Sitting with someone implied sharing a space versus just existing in it.
Evie’s face pinched. “Sorry. I know it’s weird for a stranger to ask to sit. But at least I’m not offering to show you my puppy in my windowless van,” she laughed with a slight wince. “I’ll go. Have a good day.” She turned to leave.
“Wait…sit.” The words slipped out like a plea. Maybe they were. There was something about this little chatterbox that made him want her to stay.
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking skeptical. “I don’t want to intrude. Although I kind of already did. My bad. I had a plan to kill time here and all these people are putting a wrench in that. Drives me nuts when a plan doesn’t go…well, as planned,” she giggled.
Something in her uncertain giggle and the fact that she was a planner like him endeared her to him. “Sit.” He motioned to the seat with a soft smile. At least he hoped it was soft.
Don’t be creepy. Don’t be creepy.
“Thanks. I’m Evie Johnson.” She held her hand out.
“Colm Gallagher.”
His hand enveloped hers. It was warm from holding her drink, but something told him that her hands would always be warm. Her smooth hand fit snug in his big rough one as if her hand was always meant to be in his.
There was that stomach flip again. Ridiculous! Thirty-year-old men weren’t supposed to react like a teenage girl seeing BTS, but then, he never fit the mold. Why should this be different?
“Colm? Like Colm Feore?”
“Who?”