Page 18 of The Barista's Beloved

“A family?”

“You’re not getting any younger, Maevey. Your mum wants more grandkids.”

“You have three other children. And I don’t see you nagging Iain.” Her brother and Naomi were happily childfree. How they’d managed to get both of their families to stop asking them about it was beyond her. Just imagining the conversation made her break out into a cold sweat, and she wanted kids someday. “We’re not talking about this. We’re talking about how to help an organization that doesn’t deserve to get shut down for no reason.”

“It’s a nonprofit. I doubt they have the firepower to fight back in any meaningful way, no matter how hard you might wish for it.” She pictured him shrugging. “Best find a new place to spend your free time.”

She gritted her teeth and gave up. “Never mind. I’ll find another way. Say hi to the lads for me.”

“Call your mam,” he said.

The phone went dead and she resisted the urge to throw it across the room.

Well, that had been a supreme waste of effort. Maybe she’d feel better after talking with her mother.

An hour later, refreshed by Colleen Brennan’s genuine glee about the article—and the smug knowledge that her father would be annoyed not only by her being on the cover, but also that she hadn’t told him about it herself—she realized that her stomach was growling. She’d skipped breakfast in favor of brainstorming, but it hadn’t helped at all. Maybe food would help her think.

She headed down to the deli on the corner a block away and ordered her favorite sandwich—half turkey, half roast beef on one slice of rye and one of whole grain, with gouda cheese, tomatoes, pickles, and mustard. It wasn’t on the menu, but she ate here at least once a week and they were willing to make it specially for her.

As she paid, she heard a deep voice behind her. “That sounds amazing. Can I have what she’s having?”

She turned, and a stranger grinned at her. Sandy brown hair carefully mussed, and an intriguing cleft to his chin. He had on a polo shirt that stretched tight over his chest muscles, and his fitted jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination. Well, hello. She smiled. “You have good taste.”

“So do you.” He moved to stand next to her and took out his wallet. “Can I buy you lunch?”

“Oh, I’ve already paid. Thanks, though.” She watched as he handed over a ten dollar bill and accepted his change. He dropped the coins in the tip jar and turned to her.

“I’m Steve.”

“Maeve.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Impulsively, she gestured to a table. “Are you eating here?”

He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I can’t. I have a meeting.”

“Ah.” Must not be meant to be, then.

“But…” He searched her face, then smiled. “Could I get your number?” She stared at him, and he must have thought she was about to pepper spray him. He raised his sandwich to his chest as though it might protect him. “Sorry! I’m not creepy, I swear! I’m just new here, and I don’t usually meet people who like the same sandwiches I do. And you’re really pretty.” He bit his lip, like he hadn’t meant to say that last part. She didn’t miss the fact that his eyes flicked down to her chest before they popped back up and met her gaze.

But she’d done the same thing, hadn’t she? His jeans fit very nicely, after all. “Sure.” She tore off the blank end of her receipt and snagged a pen from the counter to write her name and phone number down, then handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, then smiled at her again. “I’ll text you.”

He dashed out the door, and she picked up her sandwich again and shrugged. Maybe he’d text her, maybe he wouldn’t. He seemed nice enough. And she still had lunch either way. Win-win.

* * *

He textedher two hours later.

Unknown Number:Hey, it’s Steve from the deli. It was really great to meet you. And that sandwich was delicious.

Maeve:Mine was, too.

She added him in to her contacts as ‘Deli Steve.’

Deli Steve: Would you possibly like to get dinner or a drink sometime? I realize we just met and it’s a little pushy, but I like to close deals fast.

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