Diabetes, here I come. Yes, I’m well aware of the fact that this drink probably contains 900 grams of sugar and just as many carbs. But I order it anyway because it makes me feel better about life.
“Perfect.” The barista holds a clear plastic cup in her hand. “What’s your name?”
“Sydney.” I insert my card into the chip reader as she reaches for the bagel and hands it to a woman behind her.
Nothing is said between us until she half smiles. “I’m sorry, it says your card has been like, declined.”
Declined? My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “What?” I blink a few times, my eyes dropping to the card reader that clearly says declined. “Really?”
“Yes, do you have another form of payment?”
I look down at my wallet. No cash, only my credit card and a gift card to Nordstrom. “Not unless you take a Nordstrom gift card.”
She stares blankly at me. “Let me ask my manager.” And then she turns to the woman who handed her my toasted bagel I can literally smell now. “Do we take—”
I save her the embarrassment. “Honey, you don’t. I was joking.”
She smiles. “Right.” I don’t even remember where my debit card went to. Usually I buy everything on my credit card and Collin automatically pays it off each month. My husband’s a banker. Clearly we had money, right?
Cell phone not working. Credit card denied. I have my doubts now, don’t I? Of all the fucking shit I have to deal with today, this isn’t one I intended on. 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 his appearance, I’d say he’s a baseball player. Having a dad who used to coach college baseball, I know my baseball teams and can pick a baseball player out of any lineup. “Ah, well, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
Righting my bag on my shoulder, my cheeks heat with the slightest pink. I have no idea why either. Maybe because he’s staring at me, or the fact that a kid bought my coffee because I couldn’t. “And that is?”
Leaning in, he gives me another whiff of that delicious scent he’s wearing. “Having it all together is overrated.” He squints at the rain pelting our faces. “Some of the most brilliant minds in the world are a shitshow.”
“I’m a genius then.” I laugh, my focus on my van and the fact that I’m twenty minutes late to open my shop. “I have to go.” I nod to the parking lot. “But thanks again… for helping me out.” I want to ask him for his phone number to repay him, but I’m pretty sure if I do, he’s going to think I’m hitting on him. So I say, “Next time I’ll buy,” and hope like hell that doesn’t sound idiotic. To be safe, I repeat it in my head again. Did it sound stupid?
I’m thinking not by the expression on his face. It’s somewhere between what I imagine a college kid would make hoping to score with a MILF. I’m not saying I’m a MILF, but if I were… oh, who gives a fuck. He looks fucking happy, okay? Good. We’re clear that he wants there to be a second buying of coffee.
“Anytime, Sydney,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue with ease and swagger. He’s confident, that’s for sure. And then he winks, as if his college boy charm would work on me.