Coffee Cup Confessions - Trish Williford Page 0,13

met in a bar in Baltimore about three and a half years ago after a Baltimore Bluebirds game. It was shortly after I found out about Tessa and Brandon, so needless to say, I wasn’t in the best place. She told me about CCI, and at first, I laughed hysterically. There was no way in hell I was interested in being around any female, let alone taking one on a date. Natasha gave me her business card that night, and on the back of the card, she wrote the average amount per date I would receive.

The card was in my wallet for a good two weeks before I remembered I had it. At that point in time, I was adjusting to life being just Carrisa and me. Mom had passed away six months earlier, and I was struggling between keeping Mama Java’s afloat and raising a teenager alone. We were hurting financially, but I didn’t want Carrisa to know or worry about it. After Carrisa left for school one morning, I called Natasha, and the rest is history.

“Things are going well. Between this place and the coffeehouse, I’m definitely keeping busy.”

“You look happy. Very different than the broody, pissed off jerk I met in that bar in Baltimore.” Although she’s teasing, her smile is kind and genuine.

“Yes, I was all of those things. To this day, I still don’t understand why you thought to ask me to work for you that night.”

“There was something about you, Jake. I knew deep down that you were a good guy just stuck in a rut. It didn’t take long before that dickhole took a hike, and then I got to know the real Jake. You just needed a few smacks in the back of the head.”

“And you had no problem doing it.”

“Not at all. Anyway, let’s get these interviews going. Maybe we’ll find another ass we can whip into shape.”

She seems all too eager to do so.

“You have a thing for giving the bad boys a rough time, don’t you?”

Natasha’s smile is white and bright against her dark red lipstick. “You have absolutely no idea.”

7

Misha

Drew is sitting with the blinds up in my living room, practically pressing his nose to the window. Despite living in the apartment across the hall, Drew is at my place more often than not.

“What are you doing?” I ask from behind him.

“I’m watching for Hot Barista. I know you won’t introduce me to him, and I have to see if he’s as hot as you claim he is,” he answers without turning around.

“He’s hot. Really hot.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Channing Tatum hot or Ryan Gosling hot?”

Drew and I always have this debate.

“For the millionth time, you can’t compare the two of them. Ryan is swoony, I want to take him home to Mom hot, and Channing is dance dirty up on me and then bend me over in the shower while we’re getting clean hot. Apples and oranges.”

Drew smirks. “I bet he’s neither.”

I cross my arms. “He’s both. A delicious mix of both. Just wait.”

He turns back to the window. “Darlin’, if he’s a delicious mix of both, then you’d better jump on that. Wait, does he have a black truck?”

I slide my coat on and grab my purse. “Yep. Bye!” I’m so close to making it to the door before I’m being grabbed from behind and pushed onto the couch. “Drew! I’m going to meet him downstairs, so he doesn’t have to come up!”

Drew sits his bony ass on my midsection. “He will come to the door and get you like a real man would. Then, I can check him out myself.”

Losing the ability to breathe, I smack his leg and groan. “Get off me now.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

Drew jumps at the knock, running toward the door. He turns around, giving me the evil eye. “Stand up and fix yourself. You look like a hot mess.”

Quickly, I jump up, smooth my hair down, and adjust my coat. Drew gives me a nod of approval before looking through the peephole. His head snaps back to me in shock.

“Oh my God,” he whisper-shouts.

“Let him in!” I whisper-shout back.

Drew stands tall and opens the door. “Oh, hey. You must be Jake.”

I manage to contain my laughter at his terrible attempt to be nonchalant.

Jake extends his hand, and Drew accepts it immediately.

“And you must be Drew. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Honest to goodness, the back of Drew’s neck turns red—a telltale sign that he’s attracted to someone. “Oh,