My credit card denied at Starbucks. Starbucks, people. A seven dollar and thirty-six cent order and my card couldn’t handle it.
To say I’m embarrassed wouldn’t do it justice. Do you notice the tense brow and creased forehead? I’m confused. With a heavy breath, I take one last longing look at my bagel and coffee now sitting on the counter. Literally calling my name in black Sharpie. “I’ll just… it’s okay. Cancel my order.”
Then, like a knight and shining coffee god, a man towers behind me, his body warm as he clears his throat. “Ma’am, I’ll get that for you.”
I stare at the cashier whose face is now red, her eyes on the man. “That’s… uh, like, so sweet of you, Cason.”
Clearly he and the barista girl have a thing because I can tell by the glossy eyes she’s affected by him. And the like, uh, words she used. I know, I’m kind of a bitch. You don’t need to tell me that, and I also don’t need this dude buying my coffee. “You don’t—” I turn to face the man, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to, and regret it. Damn it, now I’m the one stumbling over how to form words.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to go all standard romance novel on you and tell you he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen or that my panties are wet with one look. I’m twenty-eight, married, and a mother. I have some self-control. But… I will tell you that one of those two I noted is correct.
A lady never tells.
I will tell you this—dark scruff, intense jawline, blue eyes, you get the point. Bad news, also, good time. Sadly, I could probably be his mother. I’m joking. I’m not that old, but too old to be staring at him or letting him buy me coffee. Hell, it’s probably his mom’s money. I reach for the twenty he tosses on the counter. He slides around me to the barista. “I insist.” And then his voice trails off as if he’s not sure what else to say. “Add a tall Americano onto that order, please.”
Goddamn, I love a man who takes charge of a situation. “You don’t have to do that,” I’m quick to say and pick up his money from the counter and hand it to him, our fingers brushing in the passing.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, smiling at me, and damn it if my body doesn’t melt under the intensity of his blue eyes. “Well—” Pausing, he sighs heavily, his voice incredibly sincere when he whispers, “I wasn’t asking.” I watch with rapt attention as his throat moves with a swallow, his hand resting on the counter beside me, and he’s so far in my personal space, I can smell his cologne or deodorant. Whatever it is, it smells amazing, and I want to bury my face in his armpits.
I’m happily married, I swear, but my body melts under the passion of his blue eyes.
He reaches for the drink on the counter and my bagel. “Enjoy.”
Staring at his ASU hat, which confirms my theory that he’s in college, maybe even plays a sport there, I roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “Uh, thanks.” Reaching for the drink, I hold it in my hand. “That’s nice of you.”
As I step to the side and out of the way, he takes his drink from the counter. His eyes flick to my wedding ring, and if I had to guess—or hope—there’s a flick of disappointment. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Snort.
We walk out at the same time, neither of us saying anything. He holds the door open for me and then offers a final smile, standing under the protection of the awning outside. But that smile, it’s one of those smiles that warm your heart. I’m not sure I’ve seen Collin smile like that since college.
There’s another kid with him. Same ASU hat and holding a cell phone in his hand, leaned against a car parked on the street in front of the coffee shop.
I clear my throat and return the smile the best I can. In the meantime, I drop the bag with my bagel. “I swear, I’m not always this much of a mess.” And then laugh as he picks up the bag and hands it to me. “That’s a lie. I am.”
He adjusts his ASU hat on his head and then drops his hands. It’s then I notice his shirt. Sun Devils. ASU. Judging by