Page 14 of We Can Do
What the hell am I thinking?
She spots me through the window. Her face brightens with recognition. She waves—casual, friendly, like we’re old friends instead of two people with a complicated history involving professional destruction.
Instinct takes over. Pure, primitive flight response. I jump backward, desperate to escape whatever danger comes with that smile, that wave, that acknowledgment of my existence. My shoulder connects with the tower of takeout cups I just finished arranging. They cascade across the floor in a plastic waterfall, bouncing and rolling in every direction, the sound like applausefor my gracelessness. I scramble away from the mess, feet slipping on the scattered cups, overcorrect, and slam into Sarah as she emerges from the kitchen with a tray of fresh loaves. The tray wobbles dangerously, twelve loaves of rosemary olive sourdough about to meet their doom on the floor.
“Sorry, sorry,” I gasp, my hands shooting out to steady the tray, saving the bread but not my dignity.
Lawrence materializes at the end of the bar like he was summoned, one eyebrow raised in that way he has that says more than words ever could. “You okay, boss?”
“Great,” I lie through my teeth, just as Alexis’s hand touches the front door’s handle, her fingers wrapping around the brass that I personally polish every morning.
Here she comes. The woman who can build me up or tear me down—in more ways than one, in ways I’m trying very hard not to think about. And she has no clue that I’m this flustered over her very existence, that her presence turns me into a walking disaster area.
Let’s hope it stays that way.
Chapter Seven
Alexis
I have my hand on the brass doorknob, warm from the afternoon sun, when Devin touches my arm. The metal feels solid beneath my palm, grounding me for what’s ahead. “Hey. There he is.”
I follow her gaze through the window and to the counter, where Noah quickly looks away, his movements just a fraction too sharp to be natural. He busies himself with wiping down an already clean surface, acting like he doesn’t notice me out here.
My lips curve despite myself. “Yeah. There he is.”
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Devin sighs, her breath fogging the glass slightly.
She bites into her lip, staring at him with an appreciation that makes something hot and unwelcome flare in my chest. The feeling catches me off guard—jealousy, pure and simple. Which is insane. Completely, utterly insane. Devin is one of my best friends. I would never get between her and a guy. And I’m not interested in Noah at all. Not even a little bit. Yes, he’s handsome. More handsome even than he was when we met in New York a few years ago. He’s filled out with more musclesince then, and a constant stubble on his jaw gives him an added maturity that wasn’t there before.
But handsome or not, he hates me. The memory of his cold reception last time sits heavy in my stomach. And I’m not crazy about him either. I’m only here for the job. Only for the job.
“He’s handsome if jerks are your type,” I settle with saying, my voice coming out sharper than intended.
Devin makes an apologetic face, her hand dropping from where she’d been absently twirling her hair. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“It’s fine.” I squeeze her arm, feeling the soft cotton of her cardigan. “You’re right. He’s undeniably attractive. Too attractive.”
“Do you think that’s part of why...” She trails off, catching herself.
“Part of why, what?”
Devin looks like she wishes she could pull her words back in, stuff them down before they fully formed. Her eyes dart away from mine. “Nothing. Nevermind.”
But I can’t let it go. Something in her tone hooks me. “Part of why, what?”
She bites her bottom lip, a habit when she’s choosing her words carefully. “You two aren’t getting along?”
I stare at her, not understanding. The question doesn’t compute. “Huh?”
“He’s really sexy, and so are you.” She cocks her head, studying me with that therapist look she sometimes gets. “Come on, Alexis. Tell me there isn’t some sexual tension there.”
I laugh out loud, but the sound comes out dry and humorless, scraping against my throat. “This isn’t some fantasy.”
“No, it’s real life, and real life is complicated.”
She has a point, but I don’t want to think about it too much right now. Not when I can feel my pulse picking up just fromlooking at him through the window. I have a job to do. A career-changing, life-altering job that could finally get me that full-time position I desperately need.
“How about some coffee?” I ask, redirecting. Through the glass, I catch Noah glancing our way before quickly looking down again. He’s probably watching us standing out here talking and suspects it’s about him. The thought makes my skin prickle with awareness.
