Page 12 of Accidentally Amy

“Can I please get a large mocha?” she asked.

No latte today, Amy?

“Sure,” the barista said. “What’s the name on the order?”

I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “It’s Amy, isn’t it?”

That ponytail whipped around so quickly I nearly lost an eye. She blinked in surprise, looked down at my crappy running clothes, and then returned her gaze to the smiling woman behind the counter. “It’s Izzy, actually.”

I instantly regretted saying anything, because I had zero desire to talk to her, but apparently my petty side had a mind of its own.

“And he will have…” She turned and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

She pointed her wallet at me and gave me a fake smile. “I’m buying you a coffee—what do you want?”

I glanced past her, and the barista was watching me with her eyebrows up, as well, waiting for my order.

“No, thank you,” I said, a little thrown by the offer.

“Aren’t you here for coffee?” Izzy asked, her eyebrows dropping and scrunching together in confusion.

“Well, yes, but I can get it.” I cleared my throat and said, “Thanks, though.”

She tilted her head and looked at me like I was the world’s biggest asshole. “You won’t accept a coffee from me?”

“It’s not like that,” I said defensively, mostly because she was watching me like I’d just delivered the world’s nastiest insult.

“You just enjoy paying, is that it?” she said, and I think she was being funny but I couldn’t quite tell. “Youpreferto part with your money instead of just politely taking coffee from someone who wants to apologize to you?”

I couldn’t let someone on my team spend money on me, so I said, “You can’t apologize by buying me coffee—”

“So that’s a no, then?” she interrupted, her smart-ass smile disappearing as she glanced at the line behind me.

“It’s not appropriate for me to accept a coffee from you,” I corrected quietly, gritting my teeth to hold back the irritation in my voice. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Sure you do,” she muttered under her breath, turning away from me. Her voice was rich with sarcasm when she said, “I guess it’s just the one coffee, then.”

She paid and moved to the other end of the counter to wait for her drink, and it occurred to me that I was going to have to do the same. I was going to have to stand beside her while we both waited for our coffees.

“What can I get foryou?” the barista said, looking at me like I’d just done something atrocious.

I glanced over at my newest employee, who was staring at the ground with pink cheeks, and I decided to save us both.

“Uh, I think I’m going to hold off,” I said. “Thanks, though.”

I turned and headed for the exit, moving as fast as my legs would take me.

I was going to Scooter’s, damn it.

Izzy

Well, that went well, I thought as I watched him exit the coffee shop.

I’d gone through the five stages of mortification as soon as he’d walked into Peet’s, I swear to God.

Stage 1: Oh, God, please don’t see me.

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