Page 9 of The Barista's Beloved

“What’s the craic?”

“The craic?” Ben didn’t recognize the word, but he tried to copy Maeve’s lilt as he passed her a coffee, which she accepted with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Whoops. Hard habit to break, I’m afraid. It just means, like, what’s up, or how’s it going.” She paused and pursed her lips. “Come to think of it, ‘craic’ has a lot of meanings.”

“Ah,” he answered as he waited for her to take a drink. Not that he was bragging, but it was the best cappuccino he’d ever made. When she didn’t immediately raise the cup to her lips, he added, “Don’t worry. I did it right this time.” He lifted his right hand and showed her three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

She winked at him over the plastic rim as she took a sip.

Ben looked swiftly away. He and Maeve had agreed to be friends, but lately his thoughts had turned decidedly non-friendly. Since that first disastrous night at The Oakwell Inn, he’d run into her at Frankie’s, at the farmer’s market in River Hill’s historic town square, and then again in line at the hardware store. The more time they’d spent chit-chatting, the more he’d realized that he genuinely liked her. Which was why he needed to curb these lustful thoughts.

Or get laid.

He didn’t even want to think about how long it’d been since he’d been with a woman. At this point, he was pretty sure he’d qualify for Born Again Virgin status. And thinking about having sex had led him right back to thinking about it with Maeve. Goddamnit. He wanted to be her friend, not jump her bones. Right?

“So,” he said, clearing his throat and turning back to her. “Better than last time?”

“Much,” she answered before glancing back over her shoulder, presumably to make sure that she wasn’t holding up the line.

That’s Maeve, Ben thought. Considerate, kind, and sweet. All the things he wasn’t. Also, he reminded himself, three very good reasons why they’d be a nightmare if they ever did get together. He liked his women with an edge. Harder, less vulnerable. And yet, he told himself with his very next breath, maybe that was the old Ben. Maybe the new Ben deserved someone like Maeve?

No, he’d done nothing, ever, to deserve anyone. And he’d done a lot that would drive her away.

All this internal back and forth meant he’d missed whatever it was that she was saying— and she’d noticed. A small wrinkle appeared between her fine red eyebrows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

She moved to step out of the non-existent line, but without conscious thought, Ben’s hand shot out over the counter and gripped her hand in his. They both stared down at where their skin touched until his brain caught up with his hand and he quickly snatched it away. “Sorry.”

Her eyes flicked between his face, their joined hands fingers, and then back to him again. “No, that’s okay.”

“It’s not. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t do anything. Not really.”

They stood staring at one another for a few protracted seconds. Ben was just about to apologize again when Maeve pulled a deep breath into her lungs and said, “What time do you get off today?”

And just like that, his mind was back in the gutter.

He knew that wasn’t what she was asking, so he quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his head. “I finish up here at one. Why?”

“Well … since we’re friends and all, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch?” There was the slightest emphasis on ‘friends,’ and he wondered if he was being reminded.

“Lunch?”

“It was just a thought. Never mind. Pretend I never mentioned it.”

He stared down at the pint-sized pixie who confused the ever loving hell out of him, and smiled. Sure, he might frequently wonder what color lingerie she wore under her utilitarian uniform of jeans and black t-shirt, but they were friends.

Plus, he was starving.

And, if he were being honest, the idea of heading back to Max’s garage apartment to spend the rest of the day alone with only his thoughts and all those recruiting emails for company was the last thing he wanted. So yes, lunch with the beautiful and sweet Maeve Brennan sounded terrific. Torture, likely, but terrific all the same.

“I know it’s sacrilege to even suggest it, but I stumbled upon a taco truck out by the highway we could hit up. How does that sound?”

Maeve released a pent up gust of air and chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Max would kill you if he heard you say that.”

“Yeah, he probably would. But I’m willing to risk it. What about you? Want to take a walk on the wild side with me?”

A strange look crossed her face for the briefest of moments, but then it disappeared nearly as fast as it had come on. “It’s a date.”

Except it wasn’t, Ben quickly reminded himself. He needed to nip these wayward feelings in the bud. They weren’t real. And even if they were, he would never act on them. Maeve needed someone good, someone worthy. Someone who was the exact opposite of himself.

“See you out front at one.”

It was only once she’d pushed her way through the door and had stepped out onto the sidewalk that he let out the breath he’d been holding for the last thirty seconds.

Shit. He was in so much trouble.

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