She slid into the chair across from him and smoothed a loose curl away from her face. He smiled and nudged her coffee toward her. Black, double shot, and not a drop of syrup. “Thanks,” she said. Then she smiled too.
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to see you.” He started every conversation with her the same way. He’d been doing it for the two months they’d been having this almost-daily nondate. From anyone else, it would be annoying, but coming from this guy, it was close to endearing.
“You always say it like it’s a surprise. All you have to do is open those doors any morning, Monday through Friday, sometimes Saturday, and you’ll see my smiling face.”
“I know. That’s why I come here. You know, I tried the Starbucks around the corner before I settled on this place.”
“Oh yeah? What made you switch?”
“The manager didn’t like me.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out to the side of the table. “I thought I was charming, but she never gave me anything for free.”
“I never give you anything for free.”
“Except the ten best minutes of my day.”
“I think I know why that manager didn’t like you. She saw right through your whole charming act.”
“Nah, not possible.”
She laughed.
“Did you see Mrs. Rich this morning?” he asked.
Jenna nodded, sipping her coffee.
“That woman is . . . Well, let’s just say she makes me think of opening my own accounting firm every day. Many times a day.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Open my own firm? Let’s see, money, office space, clients . . .” He counted each barrier off on his fingers. “It could happen one day. But I’m not there yet.”
She nodded again, watched him over the rim of her cup. The first day Sam Oliver walked into Full Cup, he was just another guy in a button-down and khakis with a cell phone pressed to his ear. But then he hung up when he got to the front of the line where a barista was waiting to take his order. He ordered a large coffee, no frills. Then he smiled at the girl and added a tip onto his receipt.
Jenna had been wiping down tables and fielding requests from customers scattered among the tables. When he sat down to wait for his coffee, she couldn’t resist. “You may be the only person this morning who’s ordered a plain coffee. Maybe the only person this week.”
“My coffeemaker decided to quit on me this week. I haven’t had a chance to get out and buy another one, so I’m just trying to get a shot of caffeine to my brain.” He smiled. He had a nice smile. “Plain coffee is all I need.”
“So you make coffee at home and you drink it straight up? You sure aren’t our typical coffee shop customer.” She swiped the towel across a just-vacated table, then turned back for the counter.
“What’s your favorite coffee then?”
“Kind of a personal question. I only just met you.”
He smiled, slow and amused. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just come back tomorrow and ask again.”
She looked at the clock above the counter. “See you then.” She took her place behind the counter and resisted the urge to look back at him.
That first quick conversation was nearly two months ago, and he’d yet to buy a new coffeemaker. They’d progressed from exchanging a few words while he waited for his coffee to spending her ten-minute break at a table in the back. Every day except Friday.
“How are Addie and Walsh?” he asked now.
“They’re fine. Addie is learning to write her name, and Walsh spends most of her time upside down in one form or another.”
“My sister did gymnastics her whole childhood. Always flipping around, turning cartwheels, and whatnot. Maybe Walsh is destined to be a gymnast.”
Jenna smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“And Addie will be something studious. A teacher maybe.”
“Or a therapist. A psychiatrist maybe.”
“You think?”
Jenna shrugged. It was tempting to think Addie, at almost six years old, was too young to understand a lot of things. But lately, it seemed every time Jenna assumed something would go over her older daughter’s head, it instead went right in her ears and came back later in the form of a pointed, intelligent question.
She fiddled with the cardboard sleeve on her cup. Sam watched her for a moment before speaking. “Are you ever going to let me take you on a real date? Somewhere you don’t have to wear an apron, where we can talk for longer than ten minutes?”
Jenna bit her bottom lip, glanced at the clock over the counter.
“Don’t do it,” he said, hanging his head. “You just sat down.”
“It’s a busy morning. Melissa’s new. I need to get back up there.”
He sighed. “I’m just going to keep asking. I’m like a bulldog when I put my mind to something.”
“So what does that make me? Your chew toy?” She smiled as she stood, retying her apron strings into a tidy bow.
“No. You’re the girl I can’t stop thinking about every time I leave this place.”
She paused behind her chair. This had gone on long enough. “Sam . . .” He waited, ever patient. “Look, I’m not right for you. My life is . . . complicated.”
He shrugged. “People are complicated. Our lives are too.”
She glanced around before continuing. “I work all the time because I have to. I have to make money to pay for daycare, for insurance, for rent. Any free time I get I spend it with Addie and Walsh.” She swiped her thumb over a drop of coffee on the table. “You could have any girl you want. I’m not the one you need to be chasing. Trust me.” She could have given him a hundred more reasons, but she figured this would be enough.
“The only
