The timing was perfect, giving me an hour with Rhubarb Ryan before I met with Scotty at one thirty to talk about the Coffee Crawl.
I rushed home, showered, changed, and made it over to Bean Me Up, Scotty exactly sixty minutes later. Rhubarb Ryan was waiting for me on the sidewalk outside near the front door.
“Hey there,” he said. “Stella’s not coming?”
“She’s running late—I’ll treat you,” I said.
He grinned. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
I had a feeling Stella told me she was running late to give me some alone-time with Rhubarb Ryan. Either way, she would meet up with me later, I knew.
We entered and gravitated toward the espresso machine, where Dean was making a drink.
“It’s weird seeing you back there without Scotty,” I said. “You two are usually inseparable.”
I glanced over to the register where a teenage boy with braces was eagerly waiting for me to move in that direction to order something. He was most likely a local high school kid who was there on the weekends for some extra cash.
“Just like you and Stella are inseparable,” Dean said. “She won’t be coming in today?”
“She’ll be here soon.”
“I was hoping to see her.” He winked. “As for Scotty, you’re right, there’s a hole in my heart when he’s not around.” He waved his hand in the air and snapped his finger like he was doing a magic trick. “Shazam!”
“Or a hole in your head,” Scotty said, popping up from underneath the counter.
I yelped like a puppy whose tail had been accidentally stepped on, then pressed my hand to my chest. “You scared the daylights out of me!”
Scotty chuckled. “Sorry about that. I was getting some filters from the bottom cupboard.” He held them up as proof and gave me a silly grin.
“I’m here to collect the first of five hundred free coffees,Clark,” I joked.
Scotty held his palms up. “Only five hundred coffees in a week, Lois?” He scoffed and pretended to be put off by my behavior. “Amateur.”
We did that thing where you look at the other person and somehow both of you think it’s funny at the same time. Our connection was undeniable.
Rhubarb Ryan interrupted our fun. “Stella and Amber rave about your juices.”
“They’re superb, if I do say so myself,” Scotty said, pointing to the menu on the wall behind him. “The drinks with the colorful bird next to the names are brought in fresh from Parakeet Juicery. The organic smoothies are made fresh here. And if you are in the mood for coffee, we roast the beans ourselves. Let me know if you have questions.”
“A juice would really hit the spot after four hours of yoga,” he said.
“Wow—that’s hard core,” Scotty said.
Rhubarb Ryan shook his head. “Not really. I do it three days a week, so I’m used to it. I’m a yoga instructor.”
“Still, that’s impressive,” Scotty said. “I have to admit, I’ve never tried yoga.”
“You should come. It’s very liberating—especially my naked yoga class.”
Scotty looked amused. “Yeah, right. Good one.”
Rhubarb Ryan wasnotamused. “I’m serious.”
“Oh . . .” Scotty cleared his throat. “Sorry, naked yoga, wow, I never would have imagined such a thing existed.” He glanced at me, probably wondering if I had done it since I was with the instructor.
“I haven’t tried it,” I quickly supplied.
“Well, you both are seriously missing out,” Rhubarb Ryan said. “Anyway, I’ve got a website if you want to check it out. Ryan Scott Yoga dot com.”