Page 20 of The Fiance Dilemma

“So you’re a coffee snob,” Matthew said, ignoring my apology. “Besides being a barista, and coffee shop owner, you’re also a nerd.” His hand reached out over the island, settling on one of my mini eclairs. “Born or made?”

“Made,” I answered easily, watching him chew and let out a tiny moan of appreciation. I was sure it’d been unconscious. My smilewidened. “Someone taught me the basics and introduced me into the world. I went from there.”

“Someone?” He asked, taking a carrot cake square this time.

“An old friend,” I said, studying his reaction as he chewed once again. “He always dreamed of owning a coffee roaster with a small bar where customers could enjoy a cup while they’re shopping or waiting for their beans order.” Matthew licked the frosting off his thumb, a new sound of appreciation leaving his throat. “When we broke up, I was too deep into coffee culture to quit it.”

“When you broke up?” Matthew asked.

My eyes bounced up, leaving his mouth. “Sorry?”

“You said an old friend got you into it.”

I entertained the idea of making something up. But if I really wanted Matthew to do this big thing for me, and if he agreed, this would eventually come up. My exes.

“Shawn,” I explained. “He was a friend first. Then my first love. Then my fiancé. Then an ex.”

Shawn and I had been high school sweethearts. We’d dated through our teens, and he’d proposed soon after graduation. Unlike me, he decided not to go to college. So I’d lived in Chapel Hill while attending UNC and I’d go visit him up in Fairhill on the weekends. That didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. Out of all my failed attempts at a successful walk down the aisle, this one had been the easiest to explain. We’d simply been too young. Too naïve. Stuffed with too many dreams. Too green and far from the people we were supposed to be. No one had judged me for leaving Shawn the way I did. Not with Mom’s passing so relatively recent, and us being so young.

I didn’t know if it was my wording that made Matthew ponder my words for so long, but he seemed as lost in thought as me. Only difference was, my stomach had closed at the memory, and he kept snagging more sweets. A second eclair. A lime mini tart. A whitechocolate brownie. Then a pistachio one. Then raspberry. Macadamia.

“Whoa,” I decided to say. “You’re stress eating my rainbow brownies like your life depends on it.”

“Fhey’re really goohd,”he admitted through a mouthful.

“Anything on your mind?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Nothing worth discussing.”

Ouch. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but that stung. “So…” I ventured, brushing whatever that was aside and focusing on what had brought me here. Our conversation. My dilemma. “Bobbi showed up at Josie’s Joint earlier today. And before I say more, I want you to know that she promised—”

“Don’t trust a single promise that woman makes you,” Matthew said with a shake of his head.

I sighed. I was getting really tired of being interrupted by everyone anytime I summoned the nerve to say something. “Why not?”

Matthew averted his gaze, searching around the island that separated us. I hoped he wasn’t considering going back to stress eating instead of elaborating. I was desperate and I’d take the food away from him. “The short version is because she works for Andrew Underwood.”

“And the long one?”

“Because she works for your father.”

“That’s the same answer, Matthew.”

His face hardened, that glimpse of the more playful, relaxed Matthew disappearing. “It’s not,” he said. “Andrew Underwood is a powerful businessman with a multimillion-dollar portfolio. Your father is a selfish man who has his own interests at heart. You can have your pick, but Bobbi doesn’t work for you.”

“Bobbi also said you’d be reluctant,” I commented. “She seems to be right about that.”

“There’s nothing to be reluctant about,” he answered. “Because I thought you were clearing this up with her. Telling her the truth.”

“Plans change.”

Matthew stiffened on his stool. “What changed?”

Everything,I should have said. But I went with a simple, “Everyone in town already thinks we’re engaged.”

“What?”he sputtered. “How?”

“My neighbor Otto Higgings. People have been coming by Josie’s all day, extending their congratulations and theorizing who the mystery man is. Bets are on some guy named Maverick.” Matthew’s eyes turned to plates. “Believe me, I had no idea this would happen. I wanted to come clean, but I think that given the circumstances, the best course of action is that we do it.”

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