Page 2 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
The opposite sex was currently looking at me though, inquisitive brown gaze drawing me back to the present.
I smile as I hand him his order in a white ceramic mug. “I took one look inside this place—” at the mismatched furniture, cobwebs and dust “—and fell in love,” I tell my handsome customer. “But enough about me. What brings you to Mermaid Bay?”
“Not love.” Mr. Handsome glances at his coffee cup, presumably at the heart I’d fashioned in his drink. “But I am here for the week and looking…” His brow furrows slightly and his voice drops before his gaze finds mine. “…for something.”
Oh, my.
I had sworn off Man Trouble ten years ago when I bought the Mermaid Café.
But every once in a while, trouble passes through my café. Trouble in the form of a guy who would have checked all my boxes once—a man who was employed, with good manners, and was easy on the eyes.
But my standards are higher now. No one had walked through the Mermaid Café and received a tally of more than ten. And my minimum score required to kiss a man was a solid twenty.
That’s how my heart had stayed intact this past decade.
Chapter Two
Cade
I hold the coffee shop owner’s gaze a bit too long.
Not on purpose. But…
There’s something about her I’m drawn to.
I sip my latte without taking my eyes from the delicate lines of her face.
The object of my interest frowns. She probably thinks I’m socially awkward. Or worse—have fallen in love with her at first sight.
Not that I’m a believer in fairy tales. Nope. When it comes to love, I’m glass half-empty.
But…honestly? The shop owner is my kind of attractive. Lustrous, walnut brown hair. Laugh lines accenting bright blue eyes. An air of authenticity about her that makes me feel a stab of guilt about the reason for my visit to Mermaid Bay. I’m here to lay the groundwork for buying her out. Her and the otherbusinesses on the pier, plus the long row of outdated buildings and businesses lining the boardwalk.
Mermaid Bay, Oregon, is overdue for an update. One that will ensure the town will thrive for several more centuries.
“I’m Cade.” I sip my coffee again, taking my time because it’s early afternoon and there’s no one else in line. “Just rolled into town.” After driving since long before sunrise from San Francisco.
“Lena.” The café owner tugs on her brown apron where her name has been embroidered in white below a mermaid logo.
Mermaids. They’re too whimsical for my taste.
In such a small space—four tables inside, a walk-up order window, and two tables with benches outside—Lena’s done a good job of leaning into the theme. The entire café has that beach cottage, romantic vibe. Mermaids, turtles, sea shells, whitewashed wood planks, chalkboard menu. But she was leaving money on the proverbial table. There were no T-shirts with that logo. No bags of coffee beans for sale with that logo. Not even a mug with a mermaid tail.
“I take it you’re not a mermaid fan.” Lena smirks. It’s an attractive smirk but it implies she’s noticed I’m assessing her business.
“I’m more of a superhero fan.” But I wouldn’t open a cape and tights themed coffee shop. I’ve found more success with more modern styling—white walls, gray countertops, narrow, black metal chairs that don’t encourage customers to linger.
“Cade is trouble,” comes a grumbly, feminine voice from the table in the back.
I turn, taking in a gray-haired hippy wearing a maroon paisley dress, a stretched, beige fisherman’s sweater and a too-sharp gaze. “Cade is no trouble,” I assure her, talking about myself in the third person.
“That’s what Trouble always says,” the woman grumbles once more. “Right before the barn burns down and the cows don’t come home.”
“You’re thinking of Mayhem,” I say with a straight face, referring to a long-running series of insurance commercials.” Assembling a carefree smile, I face Lena and reassure her, “I’m not Mayhem. Or Trouble.”
Lena’s gaze has become guarded.
“Trouble was going to ask you out, Lena,” the hippy woman says.
