Page 11 of Best Laid Plans
“Yeah, it’s a curse.” I reach in my wallet to grab some cash. “I’ll pay for your smoothie. How much was it?”
“It’s okay. I’ll just finish what’s left.” He’s wiped the outside of the cup off and resealed the lid.
Judging from his appearance, I’m completely aware that he could probably buy smoothies for the entire bookstore and not break the bank, but it’s the principle. If I wasn’t so clumsy and self-consumed in avoiding a gossip monger this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe years ago I would have just said okay and bailed, but I’m a responsible adult now and am perfectly capable of cleaning up my messes.
“I want to pay you for the smoothie, it’s my fault. How much?”
“Seriously, it’s cool. I didn’t need to drink the whole thing. I’ve got dinner plans later.”
As I study him, I can’t help but wonder what his dinner plans are. Or more so, whom they are with. I’ve already noticed he’s not wearing a ring, but that doesn’t rule out a girlfriend or fiancée. I bet she’s pretty, has Pantene-commercial hair and shops at J. Crew. And he uses his firm hands to hold her wrists over her head while he thrusts into her hard. Lucky bitch.
All right, this guy is hot, but also a tad annoying. He doesn’t want me to pay for his smoothie, but I’m resourceful. I look up at the board hanging on the wall and scan it until I find the smoothie column. Under gourmet smoothies, there’s a flavor called green machine, it’s just a hunch but I’m gonna say it was that one. Kale, romaine and parsley are the first three ingredients. He’s basically drinking a salad. Holy shit, it’s twelve dollars!
My mouth gets ahead of me, “You paid twelve dollars for a smoothie?!”
He looks sheepish for a moment but then responds, “Yeah, it’s really good. Have you ever tried it?”
“No.” I shake my head, then look at the five in my hand before reaching back in my wallet for more cash. Good grief. While I’m counting out my money, I glance over at the register. Gina is gone, and Paula waves in my direction. My fingers are counting and I come up short, I only have ten dollars in cash. My thoughts drift back to his body and I almost consider telling him I’ll work off the extra two dollars, but that would be completely inappropriate, so I decide to call it a day.
My hand extends out the cash I have, but he just shakes his head and refuses to take it. He fixes me with a smile, but let’s be honest, it’s more of a sexy smirk.
“I’m Cole.”
“Brooke,” I respond, still extending the money in his direction.
“How about you give me your phone number instead and we call it even?”
Huh. I guess I was wrong about the girlfriend thing.
I’m moments away from spilling my digits, because I’m beyond curious if he would actually call, when I stop myself. Cole is gorgeous and obviously easygoing, with his casual response to the whole smoothie fiasco. He also gives me butterflies, and sweaty palms. But Cole is a distraction that I don’t need right now. I’m focused on exploring the surrogacy option for Ellie and Josh.
“Sorry, my number is worth more than twelve dollars.” I grin, knowing I’m being extremely cheeky.
I roll up the cash and tuck it into his shirt pocket, then turn on my heels to go pay for my books.
Good news, Paula found the book I needed. She places the order, to be shipped to my apartment, and rings up my other books. I Apple Pay and am out the door in no time. On my way out, I think I feel Cole’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn to look because if I do, I might march right back and give him my number.
5
Cole
“You’re late.” When I pass by the dining room, I find my sister, Carrie, setting napkins on the table. I ignore Carrie’s eyeroll and lower myself to her belly.
“Your mom is a real stickler for time. Good luck with negotiating curfew.” I lean in closer to whisper, “Don’t worry, Uncle Cole knows all the tricks.”
I rise up to full height, at last addressing my sister, whose expression has softened during my conspiracy with her unborn son.
Carrie and her husband, Kyle, used to live closer to downtown, closer to me, but moved to the suburbs after they had their first child. It’s a thirty-minute drive on I-25 South to their house.
I adjust the collar on the button-down shirt that replaced my smoothie-covered polo, and can’t stop my lips from twitching when I find myself thinking about Brooke, again.
After a late morning round of golf with some buddies from college, I’d stopped by BookBar for a smoothie, because no matter how hard I’ve tried to replicate it, their Green Machine smoothie always tastes better. That’s where I found myself on the receiving end of her self-described ninja-like reflexes and half my smoothie down the front of my shirt.
After a quick side hug due to Carrie’s enlarged front, she pulls away, taking the bottle of wine in my hand with her. I follow her into the kitchen where her husband, Kyle, is prepping a lasagna and my mom is chopping vegetables for a salad. With my mom’s hands busy slicing, I gently wrap an arm around her collarbone, then drop a quick peck on her cheek.
“Where’s Dad? And the girls?”
“Out for a walk,” Carrie replies as she reaches for the wine glasses in an upper cabinet, “the girls were driving me insane.”
