Chapter 6 #2
Logan looked between me and the guys, clearly trying to catch up. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought I might get brain damage.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “Seriously, drop it.”
“She’s adorable. She works at the coffee shop and constantly flirts with Luke, but she doesn’t take any crap from him either,” Ethan lied, twisting my initial lie into a bombshell.
Stop it. I will end you.
I rarely got embarrassed, but this was pushing the limit. Thank God for the wine, or this would’ve been unbearable.
“He should invite her on our trip,” Norah said out of nowhere.
“Ha,” I exclaimed, nearly choking on my own saliva. “Good one.” I headed back to the patio, craving the comfort of the couch. On the way, I kicked Alex in the shin, earning a grunt and a laugh as he swallowed the pain.
Ah, it’s going to be fine. Tomorrow, I’ll just blame this whole mess on the wine and move on. I tried to put this pathetic interaction behind me, and yet, I had a nagging feeling it would come back to bite me.
* * *
The next day, we had a big all-department meeting to discuss the upcoming product launch.
Our company was expanding into publishing, focusing on e-readers, apps, and audiobook platforms. I was part of the team developing the sales and marketing pitch.
It was an all-hands-on-deck effort, pulling in employees from various departments for fresh ideas.
These collaborations often revealed hidden talent, which is how I advanced. Hard work paid off.
“We need to tackle this internationally from the start, not just focus on the U.S.,” Alex suggested.
“We could also partner with writers or universities to expand our reach beyond adults to students and young readers,” I added, building on his idea.
“Good. Flesh this out more. I want detailed plans by next week’s meeting,” Williams said, wrapping up the two-hour session. Alex, Ethan, and I stayed behind to brainstorm, but after a while, we decided to step out for coffee.
“Maybe we reach out to international authors or publishing houses?” Alex suggested.
“Aiden Peterson?” I offered.
“Too busy on his book tour.”
“Ryan Bjornson?” I tried again.
“He hasn’t written in years. We need someone with an active fan base,” Alex said, shutting me down.
“What about Matthew Watson?” Ethan interjected. We moved a spot further. I loved Watson’s work. He wrote popular mystery novels, especially for younger audiences. He was active on social media, though it had been a while since I’d heard about him.
“Does he even still live in the States?” I pulled up his social media accounts to check.
“No, he doesn’t.” A familiar, soft voice interrupted our thoughts. “He lives in Europe now. For the last couple of years, actually.” None of us realized it was our turn to order until Hazel was in front of us, charming as ever.
She had a long-sleeved dress under her black apron, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, fastened with a ribbon the same soft blue as her dress.
A few loose curls framed her flushed cheeks, and sunlight from the front windows caught in her eyes, turning them bright and clear, like reflected sky.
She greeted us with her usual warm smile.
“What can I get you guys?”
“Three black coffees, one espresso,” Ethan replied, then, without missing a beat, added, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He teaches at the University of Lisbon now. Why?”
“We’re brainstorming ways to collaborate with authors for a product launch,” Ethan explained.
“Cool, but I heard he’s busy writing a new book this summer.” Hazel put four cups of coffee and cinnamon right next to mine. The corner of my lips lifted in a smirk. She noticed, rolling her eyes, and switched back to Ethan. I felt that eye-roll being saved in my core memory for rainy days.
“Damn, Watson would be perfect for this. Maybe we should consider him,” Ethan said, grabbing his coffee as we moved to our usual booth.
“We need more options. We can’t pin everything on him for Williams’ pitch. Although it’s convenient that we’re heading to Portugal. Maybe we’ll run into him at a beach.”
“Right, because drunken beach encounters scream professional planning,” I replied dryly.
We brainstormed for the next twenty minutes, bouncing around ideas for authors and publisher strategies. At some point, Logan joined us.
Even though I could sell anything, this project was my favorite. Meeting publishers and authors and learning about new releases felt like blending my hobby with my work, fueling my passion for what I do.
“Hey, Hazel!” Ethan called, waving at her like a caveman, as she was cleaning the tables behind us. She approached, bringing that sweet scent of mango with her.
“How do you know so much about Portugal?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Bring sunscreen or the sun will kill you,” Ethan mocked her tiny voice.
“Oh,” she laughed. “I studied there a couple of years ago,” she smiled, and then said, “Eu também fiquei bem bom em português.”
“You speak Portuguese?” I asked. An image of her strolling through sunny streets with books in hand appeared in my mind. Sitting in the park reading, traveling, and making other guys turn when she passed by with her enticing scent. Weird emotions stirred inside me.
“A little. One of the—” she paused thoughtfully, “—most transformative times in my life.”
We went quiet for a moment until Hazel noticed the growing line of customers.
“Sorry, guys. I’ve got orders to take.” She turned and disappeared behind the counter as quickly as she’d come.
Silence hung over the table for a beat.
“We should invite her to Portugal,” Alex said suddenly, catching us all off guard. Or maybe just me.
“After you all threw me under the bus yesterday?! No, thank you,” I said.
“Hey, nobody told you to invent a girlfriend. We just rolled with it,” Ethan said, laughing in my face.
I wasn’t a violent man, but sometimes I was ready to kick them off a cliff.
“If you could control your women and stop planning my wedding, maybe I wouldn’t have to make stuff up. Besides, I didn’t name anyone specific.”
They all laughed, enjoying my rare frustration.
“She could be our guide and translator. Plus, she’s not a stranger,” Logan said, somehow making a good point when irrational excuses would’ve worked better for me. I’d lost control of the conversation.
As they shifted to work talk, something caught my attention. The creep who had been here a few days ago walked in, moving with that familiar, off-putting confidence. Instinctively, the hair on my neck stood up, and a fierce protectiveness vibrated through my chest.
I watched him approach the counter and ask if she was working. The other barista’s tense expression made it clear he knew the guy and wasn’t a fan of him either.
“No, she’s off today,” he said much louder than necessary.
Hazel had briefly stepped inside, but our booth gave me a clear view of the staff door. As soon as she came out and saw him, she quickly retreated.
Suddenly, it hit me. She was actually hiding from this guy.
The place was packed, so he hadn’t noticed her. He ordered his coffee and left. The barista handled the line alone for a while, allowing Hazel to stay inside, then knocked on the door to let her know it was safe to come out.
What the hell was this guy’s problem?
“Hey, let’s go?” Ethan said, oblivious to what had just happened behind him.
“Yeah, give me a sec,” I replied, grabbing a napkin. I scribbled a quick note and headed to the counter. Hazel was still in the back, but I knew from her previous conversation with Thomas that she trusted him. He was clearly on her side.
“Can you give this to Hazel for me?” I asked quietly, handing him the napkin. Thomas glanced at me, then at the note, and gave a small nod.
We walked out, and just as I passed the front window, Hazel stepped outside, her eyes catching mine with a flicker of surprise.