All the attention on my little-more-done-up look made me uncomfortable, but I kind of hoped Ben would come back in, so I’d gone for the kill. I’d lightly curled my hair in soft waves and wore my plaid apron (another splurge purchase during one of my online binges). Even if he didn’t come in, maybe my improved look would help fill the tip jar. After all, I had my eye on a used Hyundai.
As I picked at the new blueberry-lemon scone before my shift started, Zara side-eyed me. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“You going somewhere later?”
Shaking my head, I muttered, “Taking pride in my work,” then plastered a smile on my face and took my place behind the bar.
While I struggled with the correct number of pumps for each beverage, my bar was backed up as usual. Closing my eyes for a second, I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was Vermont, not New York. Despite the one uppity customer earlier in the week, I was doing this. On my own. Period.
“Hey, Murph. I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep on the job.”
Ben’s gravelly tone, laced with welcome humor, knocked me out of my stupor. Slowly opening my eyes, I shrugged. “I was meditating for a minute.”
“Maybe you can do that after you make my drink,” he said, pointing to his reusable mug in the middle of the lineup.
“I can’t move your drink up. If I do, I’ll have half of Vermont after me. They’re vicious here. Vermonters make New Yorkers look easygoing.”
Smiling big, I grabbed the next mug in line, this one a reusable ceramic Bean-issued mug for a regular customer. A café au lait, thankfully. That drink I could make easily. As I worked, I felt Ben’s eyes on me.
“Seemed like your customer the other day was quite the disgruntled iced-coffee drinker,” Ben said.
I glanced at him to see a twinkle in his eye, but I couldn’t tell if it was snarky or genuine. Willing myself to stay focused, I made the café au lait and moved on to a damn iced latte.
I prayed to any and every god who was listening that the aforementioned customer from hell wasn’t back again. Hopefully, she was passing through, staying in one of the expensive inns in a neighboring town. When I called out the latte, I was relieved when someone else came up to claim it. A sweet teenage girl here with her mom. Whew.
Ben was still lurking, but I didn’t know if he wanted to say something more or be sure I wasn’t poisoning his coffee. Deciding not to speculate, I grabbed his stainless Yeti mug, poured in three shots of espresso, and added hot water.
“Here you go.” I held Ben’s cup over the bar for him, breaking Bean rules.
“Thanks,” he said in a hushed tone.
“No prob.” I decided it was best not to beat myself up over the past when it came to him, nor to think about a future friendship with him. Both were a waste of energy.
Surprising me, Ben asked, “Do you get a break at all?”
“Um, I do. Usually once during a shift. They treat us very well, if you’re wondering.”
Wishing I could let down my ponytail and tousle my hair, but then I’d have to wash my raw hands again, I busied myself with wiping down the bar before grabbing another cup.
Score. Another café au lait, this one in a to-go cup.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Ben said as he moved closer. “I don’t doubt Zara is good to you.”
I could smell his aftershave, something woodsy. Very Vermonty—duh. I took notice of his cargo-style khakis and somewhat pressed dress shirt today. He’d never been the type of guy who dressed to impress.
“No hospital for you today, Doctor?” I asked, unsure why I was so prickly.
He chuckled. “Ha, as if. I’m there every day, even the days I’m not supposed to be there. No surgery today, so no scrubs.”
“Oh.” Stumped, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I see patients in the office a few mornings a week, so I get to dress up. Notice the sexy outfit?” He laughed, doing a whole Vanna White thing as he gestured to the front of his body.
As if I need any more excuses to notice his fit physique.
I shook my head, pretty sure Ben’s rapid change in personality from the other day would lead to a bad case of whiplash. “Well, lucky you. I wear the same thing every day here,” I said, but my joke fell flat.
Ben scowled. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, or lesser than. Lord knows I endured enough of that to last a lifetime. You look fine.”
As I snatched up the next cup, Zara called to me.
“Murph, it’s your break. Roddy will come and take over the bar. Hit it, girl. Leave that drink right there.”
“Guess that’s my cue,” I said, sliding under the escape hatch at the end of the bar. “Nice seeing you,” I told Ben, wondering why he wasn’t rushing to leave.
“Maybe we can sit and catch up during your break?” he asked, not moving from where he was standing.
“Why?” I turned toward him. “You didn’t seem so excited to see me the other day.” I felt my cheeks warm at my forthrightness and my hair frizzing more by the second because of the sweat suddenly beading at the nape of my neck. Half from embarrassment, the other half from shame.
Ben’s blue eyes locked on mine. “I’d like to apologize, hear what’s been going on with you. You know? Catch up. For old time’s sake.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Come on, Murph. We used to be sort-of friends, right? After all, you
