Page 10 of Perfect Blend

JavaJackOfAllTrades: Why do you ask?

Bricker: LEGO shopping is your stress medicine.

JavaJackOfAllTrades: …Is it?

Bricker: Pretty sure the big purchases you’ve shared with me have all come at times when you’ve been overwhelmed. Need I remind you of your drunken purchase when the divorce went through?

JavaJackOfAllTrades: Definitely don’t need you to do that.

Bricker: Lol. You okay though?

JavaJackOfAllTrades: Yeah, just a busy week and the end of a lot of hard work. Thought some celebratory goodies were in order.

Bricker: [smile emoji] Definitely.

- - -

Mikey had beenin town for two days, and my high school feelings from nearly twenty years ago were back with a vengeance.

I popped a mint in my mouth, grabbed the carafe of my house blend, and walked over to the table where he was busy typing away on his laptop. His bottom lip was plump from where he’d been catching it with his teeth—not that I’d glanced at him a million times to see it happen.

A swarm of pesky butterflies fluttered in my stomach when those big, gorgeous eyes lit up as he looked at me. It was like seventeen-year-old Dave ran the joystick in my brain every time Mikey aimed his smile at me. I was staring down the barrel of forty andowned my own business, but I got giddy at his lopsided grin.

“You’re spoiling me with this delicious coffee.”

I focused on pouring the coffee into Mikey’s mug and not onto his laptop. “Keeping you fueled to work on your story is the least I can do.”

Mikey’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “You know I can’t accept gifts for my job.”

“I also know you’ll slip me a tip large enough to cover everything I give you. As you did yesterday and the day before.”

His brown eyes twinkled. “You’ve found me out. Journalistic ethics can be a real bitch.”

“Surely they’re meant for bigger things than free coffee.”

“It’s a slippery slope, my friend. One day it’s free coffee. The next, you’ll ask me to ignore the bogus tax returns you filed for the exposé I’m writing.” He leaned back in his chair and reached his arms up in a stretch. It pulled his “Sounds Gay. I’m In” T-shirt tight across his chest.

“Do you often find bogus tax returns while writing about queer culture?”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He reached for his cup and eyed me over its rim. It failed to hide his smirk.

In high school, I could barely handle five minutes of Mikey’s undiluted attention without needing a break or risking melting into a puddle. I was glad Adult Dave was made of sterner stuff. I’d been able to hold off on the puddle-melting until I’d made it home each night.

“We still on for the parade this afternoon?”

I couldn’t help my dorky smile from going wide. “Absolutely. Anyone you want me to introduce you to?”

“Mr. Dahlia Springs Pride Bigshot.” He winked. It was as adorable as it used to be when he’d done it after cracking a joke in class.

I breathed out on my knuckles, then shined them on my shoulder. “You’re in the presence of a founding member of the town’s Pride celebration. I’m hot shit around here.”

“Or is it that people are afraid you’ll take their caffeine source away if they don’t kiss your ass?”

“There are perks to having the only sit-down coffee shop in town. Those drive-through caffeine stops ain’t got nothing on me.” We grinned at each other—electricity zinging between us. I couldn’t believe how well we clicked.

The front door opened, and a group of twentysomethings in colorful clothes strode toward the counter, chatting happily.

I didn’t want to leave Izzy to deal with the influx alone, so I decided to adult and leave Mikey to his work.

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