Page 37 of The Barista's Beloved

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It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, but already Ben was dragging. Maeve had secured a late check-out from the hotel, but instead of heading back to River Hill, he’d taken her to dinner at his favorite ramen restaurant in San Francisco’s Outer Richmond district. Afterward, they’d driven out to Ocean Beach to watch the waves roll in until the wind coming off the Pacific had chased them back to his car. He’d finally pulled into his driveway around midnight, and when it came time for sleep, he’d sorely missed the luxurious bed back at the hotel … and Maeve curled into his side while in it.

When his alarm went off five hours later, Ben had wanted nothing more than to turn it off and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, he had a job to do, and on Monday mornings that meant arriving at The Hollow Bean at a quarter to six for his eight-hour shift.

Ben’s dry, scratchy eyes flicked back up to check the time on the clock once again. While the two days he’d spent with Maeve had been worth it, he knew it wasn’t something he could make a habit of. Assuming, of course, he continued working as a barista—something he grappled with more and more every day. He’d taken the job here as a stop-gap while he figured out what to do with his life, but the time was quickly approaching when it could no longer be considered temporary.

Unfortunately, he was no closer to knowing what came next today than he’d been when he’d arrived in River Hill four months ago and knocked on Max’s door. With a sigh of resignation, he admitted it was probably time for him to revisit the most recent batch of emails he’d received from headhunters. He knew for certain he didn’t want to go back to a firm like Baker, Thompson, and Keene, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other jobs out there more suited to his ambitions.

Which begged the question: what were his ambitions these days?

Ben’s manager cleared his throat loudly. “You going to stand around daydreaming all day, or are you going to give that man his coffee?”

Ben felt his ears turn pink with embarrassment. That was the other thing. He’d been doing this job for months, and while he was no longer the disaster he’d been on that first day, he also hadn’t ever gotten very good at it. And he wasn’t used to anything less than excellence. “Sorry. Coming right up.”

He finished making the no-foam soy latte and turned to pass it to the waiting customer but his hand halted midway over the counter. Standing across from him was a smirking Steve Smith. The bruise from where Ben had punched him had faded to a mottled yellow with faint purple shadows near the bridge of his nose.

“Barista-slash-lawyer.” Smith scoffed and shook his head. “You know how pathetic that sounds, right?”

Ben ground his teeth together to prevent himself from saying something that could potentially bring his manager’s wrath down upon him. Some days it felt like Rodney was just waiting for him to fuck up so badly that he could fire him on the spot. He couldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of being the one to add the final nail to his coffin.

“Here’s your latte.” He pushed it the rest of the way over the counter.

Smith grabbed hold of the to-go cup, but instead of leaving, he eyeballed Ben with a speculative gleam.

Ben had seen that look once before—back at Frankie’s, right before the other man had wrapped his arm around Maeve and tugged her in close to his side. It was a little bit knowing and a lot bit predatory.

“I looked into you after you left my office the other week. Quite the fall from grace you’ve had.” He raised one eyebrow.

Ben was pretty sure it’d been waxed and sculpted into that high arch.

“That’s nice,” he responded. Do not engage. Do not engage. Do not engage. “Have a good afternoon.” Ben hoped the guy would take the not-so-subtle the hint and get the fuck out of there.

He didn’t. Instead, he rested his hip against the counter and set his coffee down next to him, adopting a pose that indicated he was settling in for a nice, long friendly chat. Ben stifled an impatient groan. “Telling your firm’s biggest client to go fuck himself wasn’t the best move for your career.” Smith glanced around the coffee shop meaningfully. “Obviously.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

Ignoring the question, Smith continued undeterred. “Not smart, but it took giant fucking balls, I’ll give you that. Still, probably ruined your chances of getting hired again in San Francisco. Why didn’t you just move to another city?” He raised that damn eyebrow again.

“I did. It’s called River Hill,” Ben answered curtly. He didn’t understand where this conversation was going, or why the other lawyer was showing an interest in him. He just wanted the man to leave so he could finish out the rest of his shift in peace. His head was pounding, and he needed a fucking nap.

Smith snorted and rolled his eyes. “You and I both know your talents are wasted in a place like this. That move with the EPA was brilliant, by the way. My boss practically had a coronary when I told him about it. He ranted and raved for a good ten minutes about what a prick you were.” He paused and leaned forward dramatically, lowering his voice as if to impart an important secret. “And then he asked what it would take to hire you away from Youth Mentors.”

Ben must not have heard him right. It sounded like the developer wanted to give him a job. That couldn’t be right. “He did what, now?”

Smith chuckled and leaned away. “You get Youth Mentors to withdraw all their petitions and counter-motions, and Hartwell Properties will set you up with a sweet ass contract in Honolulu, overlooking Waikiki Beach, the land of constant sun and itsy bitsy bikinis.”

Ben knew he was tired as fuck, but that made zero sense. “What?”

“I was there on the last project. Six months of absolute bliss, man.” Smith smiled wolfishly, as though the two of them had something in common. What he thought that was, Ben couldn’t be sure. “You work four … five hours a day tops, and then you spend the rest of your time trolling the hotel lobby bars for sexy tourists who are in town and looking to hook up with a local. You would not believe how many bachelorette parties are there on any given weekend.” He waggled his eyes suggestively.

“But you aren’t a local,” was the first thing that popped into Ben’s mind and out of his mouth. Frankly, he was still trying to figure out what the fuck was happening here.

Smith just laughed. “No, I’m not, but they didn’t need to know that.” Suddenly, he leaned forward, all pretense of joviality gone. “You in or what? My boss needs to know by Friday.”

Ben scratched his jaw. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.”

Smith slapped an envelope on the counter and pushed it toward Ben. “Well, you’d better figure it out soon, because this offer has an expiration date. You make sure the deal goes through here, and you could be sitting pretty in Hawaii in less than six weeks.” He grabbed his coffee and took a few steps backward toward the door. He raised the cup in farewell. “Make the right decision, man. For both of us.” Then he was gone.

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