Page 26 of The Barista's Beloved

“That sounds like a good thing.” There was a slight note of hesitation in Noah’s voice that Ben didn’t understand, and therefore chose to ignore.

“It’s a very good thing.” He finally felt like he had his mojo back. He finally felt like himself.

For months, he’d floated through life with nothing to ground him. The only thing he knew how to do was something he’d no longer wanted to. These guys, as awesome as they were, couldn’t understand that. With their James Beard awards and Wine Spectator accolades they were on top of their game—and they lived for it.

He paused and reconsidered that line of thinking. Sean could probably sympathize. After all, he’d been a hot shot record executive down in L.A. representing some of the biggest names in pop music before his life had imploded and he’d moved home to figure his shit out. Although unlike Ben and The Hollow Bean, The Breadery—and the former beauty queen he had met running past it each morning—had been exactly what Sean had needed to gain closure on that dark chapter of his life.

As far as Ben was concerned, once he wrapped things up here, if he never stepped foot in another hipster coffee shop for the rest of his life, it would be too soon.

“You should have seen the guy’s face,” he continued gleefully. “He didn’t know what hit him.”

“The EPA thing come through?” Noah asked.

“Sort of. They’re sending someone out next week to look at the nest, but the full investigation could take months, and it’ll be enough to give the developer second thoughts. No one wants to deal with animal rights activists. Those fuckers have nothing but time on their hands, and righteous indignation to fuel them.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Max shot him an exasperated glare.

Ben winced. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m not some uncaring asshole. I love nature, honestly. But developers hate dealing with that shit because it can tie a project up for years. And it turns out I love seeing those guys stymied. Besides, it’s for the children.” He smirked, and Max rolled his eyes as he poured Ben a drink.

He didn’t bother asking Ben what he wanted. They’d been born and raised in Portland—the answer was always craft beer. The more local, the better, and Max had a great one on draught.

“More like you’re doing it for Maeve,” Max muttered loudly, causing Noah to cough on the taco he’d been inhaling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ben tried to paste an innocent look on his face.

“Sure you don’t,” Max said, passing him the beer.

“When did you guys get together?” Sean asked just before popping a chip into his mouth.

Ben stared down into his beer while he considered his answer. The epiphany about his career wasn’t the only one he’d had that afternoon. He’d also decided he was going to tell Maeve how he felt. She was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning, and the last face he pictured before he went to bed at night.

Unfortunately, he still didn’t know if they had a future together. And until he was sure he could be the man she needed, he didn’t want to start something he couldn’t finish. Max had been right: Maeve was a forever kind of girl, not someone you fucked around with while you figured your shit out.

“We’re not together,” he eventually said, catching Max’s eyes over the rim of his glass while taking a deep pull of his IPA. With that one look, he communicated a wealth of information to his lifelong best friend. Not yet. I hope.

Noah clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. “That’s probably good, since she just walked in with another guy.”

Ben turned on his stool and his heart plummeted to somewhere around his knees. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing, her arm looped through her date’s. In his excitement over the afternoon’s developments, he’d completely forgotten that she’d told him she had a date tonight with some guy she’d met at the deli.

Sure you did, his subconscious chided. You knew she’d be here, and that’s exactly why you showed up too.You wanted to get a look at the competition.

Begrudgingly, Ben realized that was true. Which said a lot more about his frame of mind than he liked. He couldn’t fault Maeve for agreeing to go out with somebody else. It wasn’t like he’d actually gotten up the balls to ask her himself. He’d been giving her all kinds of mixed signals, talking about friendship and then staring at her mouth for far too long. This was his own damn fault. So here she was, on a date with some other guy. He’d just have to hope that it didn’t go well. Which was remarkably uncharitable of him. He winced internally.

It was only when he took a second look at the pair that Ben realized just who her date was. And that was when he saw red. He was off his stool and shouldering his way through the crowd toward them before he realized what he was doing.

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