Chapter 5 #2
“I hear you. Did you see I got pumpkin spice coffee?” The door chimes just as I bend down to see the bottom shelf with the new coffee. It’s a few dollars out of my league this trip. He adds, “Figured you’d like that.”
I grab the smallest and cheapest bag of coffee before heading to the counter.
He rings me up, but when I reach into my pockets, I can cover the three dollars, but I’m short twenty-three cents.
“I’ll try it after payday.” Glancing at the spare change tray, which I’ve probably donated enough change over the years to pay for a lot more than cheap coffee, I discover it empty this time.
“I’m a little short, so I’ll find something else inst—”
“I’ll cover it.”
When I look behind me, I’m greeted with that smile that weakens my knees and the warmth of the fire lit in his brown eyes.
I’d like to act like I’m not over the moon thrilled to see Harbor again, but I’m not that talented of an actress.
But then I realize he’s bailing me out. So embarrassing. “It’s okay. I don’t need a handout.”
Harbor sets a bottle of fancy water on the counter and a pack of gum. Peppermint, my favorite flavor. “I owe you, and I always pay my debts.”
“I’d hardly call a soda a debt,” I start but then see the coffee and think of tonight when I’ll need it most, and then the morning trying to function without it. “Okay. It’s only twenty-three cents.” I roll my eyes at myself. It’s like one embarrassing moment after another.
He probably didn’t have to think twice about it, put it on his card, and not worry how the bill gets paid when I’m standing here worried about twenty-three cents.
I say, “Thank you,” and take the coffee.
“Need anything else? I only have a credit card, and it’s a ten-dollar minimum charge.”
TJ says, “There’s a pumpkin spice coffee Lark said she’d like to try.”
Harbor grins, knowing TJ just sold me out for a delicious-flavored coffee drink. “Perfect. Add it to the tab.”
I whisper, “Traitor,” under my breath.
Under the sounds of the keys of the register, TJ laughs. “He offered.”
I roll my eyes and take my cheap coffee. When I head to the door, Harbor says, “Don’t forget your pumpkin spice.”
Pausing, I glance back at him, and as if I’m spiting him, I turn abruptly and head down the aisle to grab the bag of beans. Like my dad, I hold my head high and march myself outside.
It’s gotten dark since I was inside the store. I walk to my bike and mount it while waiting for Harbor to come out. He sees me as soon as he does, his smile growing like I just made his day.
With the coffee tucked in the small basket on the front of my bike, I say, “Now I owe you eight dollars.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Lark. Just a friend helping a friend.” He walks toward a car.
Oh.
My.
God.
Is that his car?
How’d I miss this amazing sports car the first time we met? Sleek and silver, it’s a dream, and the prettiest car I’ve ever seen. And by far the most expensive I’ve been near other than maybe the car shows my dad used to take me to when I was younger. But this one might still win that award.
How does he afford this car? Oh wait, that’s right. He’s a Westcott.
I’d almost forgotten.
Popping open the driver’s door, he stops with his hand on top and eyes my bicycle. “It’s pretty dark out. Is it safe to ride home at this hour?”
His words remind me of my dad’s, causing warmth to spread across my chest.
I swing my leg over and stand on my tiptoes to balance. “It’s all I got.” Not a dig at his car, but I make do with what I have.
“Since destiny brought us here together tonight—”
“Or you’re stalking me?” I laugh, loving to tease this man.
“Ironically, I had the same thought about you being the one stalking me,” he volleys right back while also laughing.
“Me?” I ask, stabbing my finger into my chest. “You’re the one who doesn’t live anywhere near here.”
“Only a stalker would know where I live.” Raising an eyebrow in challenge, he nods as if he’s won.
“Or someone who just worked at your house last night.” Maybe he is winning .
. . winning me over. The more time I spend with Harbor, the more time I want to spend with him.
I don’t always trust guys when we first meet, but there’s something about Harbor that makes me believe he’s being genuine with me.
Chuckling again, he rests his arms on the roof and says, “Touché.” His shoulders drop as he eases against the car. “But it is really dark out. I’m happy to give you a lift if you’d like a ride home.”
His argument holds water. It’s just a friend helping a friend.
And maybe it’s a little, or a lot, of me wanting to ride inside something so luxurious.
I may never get this chance again. “I’ve almost been hit a few times riding at night, so I guess it would be safer if I ride with you, but how will we fit my bike? There’s no room for it.”
He’s grinning, nothing less than gorgeously, as if it were even possible for him to sport anything less. His gaze runs the length of the car and then lands back on me. Waggling his eyebrows, he replies, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.”