A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,6

dwell on anyway. Like the bar expo today, an event I’ve been eager to check out.

Business only.

I take the coldest shower I can stand, pull on some jeans and a casual polo shirt that I know looks damn good thanks to regular arm days at the gym, tuck my phone in my pocket, and head down three flights of stairs. London’s warm as usual on this summer day, and by the time I’ve stepped outside of my flat, the sun’s shining on the Thames a few streets away.

It’s a short walk to Coffee O’clock, the perfect midway spot between my flat and Dad’s. Inside, the intoxicating scents of coffee, tea, and flaky pastries greet me.

I haven’t even made it through the front door yet when I catch the attention of Penny, Coffee O’clock’s long-standing owner. She’s behind the counter, making drinks. She gives me a smile as she chats up a regular, then waves me over after she finishes ringing him up.

When I reach her, I survey the board. “What are the chances I could get a decent cuppa in here?”

“Terrible, absolutely terrible,” she says with a gleam in her eyes, crinkled at the corners.

“Also, can you please change the name to Tea O’clock?”

“Only if you can stop hating on coffee.”

I pretend to consider that, tapping my chin. “Not a chance. So I’ll take two of your special secret Stonehenge Breakfast Mix that you’ll someday give me the name of the supplier?”

“Ha, as if I’d ever tell you where my tea leaves come from,” she says, scooping some out.

“Someday you’ll spill your tea secrets.”

“And until then I’ll happily brew them for you. Especially since I know you’re taking one to your dad,” she says with a smile as she brews the blend.

“Ah, I appreciate you giving me a pass on account of Martin.”

“I trust he’s still enjoying his retirement?”

“Considering I can’t keep him off Tinder, he seems to be having a blast.”

She drops her voice to a stage whisper. “Better tell him to swipe right on me.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on the tip,” I say with a laugh, but something about the way Penny’s eyes sparkle tells me she might not totally be joking.

She pours the tea, sets the cups down, then eyes the food case. “You know you want a scone today. Maybe two.”

A quick scan of the options tells me the chia seed pudding and morning oats will be the best bet. Better on the heart for him, and, frankly, on the abs for me.

Penny bags up the healthy options and tells me to hurry back.

When I head outside, I’m already feeling the right amount of distance from Mr. Hockey Is Awesome and So Am I.

The walk to Dad’s covers some of my other favorite spots.

There’s the bookshop where, years ago, Dad bought me a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after I’d read the first book from the library. Where just last week, I picked up a new Silicon Valley exposé of a high-flying start-up. (Who can resist the fall of an upstart that gets too big for its boots?)

Up the street, I pass the park where I used to play rugby with my mates after school.

Next is the secondhand furniture store that my friend Taron runs, a place where I like to hunt around for old nightstands and tables to refurbish.

The walk settles me, and by the time I’ve climbed the flight of stairs to the place I used to live, my mind’s completely clear of distractions.

“Tell me you didn’t do it!” Dad says as he opens the door. His eyes go straight to the bag in my hand. “You did it,” he says with a frown.

“Did what?” I ask ever so innocently.

He glowers at me. “Brought me Greek yogurt or a chia seed walnut salad with blueberries and quinoa that is going to make me twenty-five years younger.”

“What did blueberries ever do to you?” I ask as I hand him the chia seed pudding and morning oats.

He eyes them skeptically. “What is this?”

I grin. “Breakfast. Sit. Eat. It’s healthy.”

“It’s weird.”

“Yes, but that’s how we’re doing it these days. Keep up with me, old man.”

He rolls his eyes. “So much cheek.”

“I wonder where I learned it from.”

“It’s a mystery to me too.”

We sit at the table, where I dive into the chia seed pudding while Dad takes the morning oats.

He dips his spoon into the oats, looking at me like I’ve told him we have to remove his kidney. “Is it so

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