Page 4 of Where It Begins

“I’m used to it, and I don’t mind working under pressure.” I scan the display case and add a pumpkin spice muffin to my order.

“Excellent choice and a perfect pairing for your latte.” Larissa hands me the brown bag and I tuck it into my purse.

“Thanks Larissa, have a great rest of your day.”

“You too!” She smiles and her attention shifts to the person behind me.

I move aside and wait for my order.

News plays on the TV in the corner with closed captioning scrolling across the screen. It’s the usual depressing stuff, so I people watch instead. Several tables hold people reading the paper, other patrons have laptops propped in front of them. Only one pair looks like a potential couple. The local college isn’t too far from here and they seem to fit the student profile. The girl ducks her head and blushes, while he picks at the cardboard sleeve around his cup.

I haven’t been on a date in ages. Francine in PR wants to set me up with her cousin, but he works in car sales, and I don’t really know how much we’d have in common. Besides, Violet is halfway through high school. She needs me now more than ever.

The guy who was behind me takes his place a few feet to the right of me. We make brief eye contact and exchange polite smiles.

He’s tall and broad, with dark blond hair, gray flirting at the temples. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes tell me he’s probably around forty. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit, complemented with a cream button down and a blue and gold striped tie, and brown dress shoes.

Before either of us can make awkward small talk, his phone rings. Fishing it out of his pocket, he checks the screen before he brings the device to his ear. He turns to face the window, giving me his back. He’s got a great butt.

I check him out from bottom to top, and when I reach the back of his head, I note he has all his hair. No ice rink for ants forming at his crown yet. Visually, he’s what Violet would call a snack.

I smile at the thought and realize he’s looking over his shoulder. At me. And I’m appreciating his full head of hair. Yeesh.

I internally wish for my latte to be ready so I can escape my embarrassment.

Hubert, the barista, calls out, “Skye and Sidney! Your lattes are ready!”

I rush forward and grab mine, muttering a hasty, “Thanks!” Then beeline for the exit. Of course, that’s the moment a hoard of teens barrel through the door, forcing me to hold it open until the entire gaggle has stormed the café.

Once outside, I hustle to the crosswalk. I punch the button and glare as the sign counts down from thirty.

And then I hear my name being called.

I glance toward the café and, much to my horror, the attractive man whose butt I was admiring is rushing toward me, coffee in hand.

“Hey! You’re Skye, right?” he asks.

“Yes. That’s me.” Maybe he didn’t mind my checking out his butt.

“You took the wrong coffee.” He taps the side of the cup with the name SKYE written in Larissa’s lovely cursive.

“Oh.” I turn mine around and see Sidney scrawled on the side. And it’s a pumpkin spice latte. Half sweet, skim milk. “Wow. I would have spent the rest of the afternoon working from a bathroom stall if you hadn’t caught me.” At his questioning expression, I continue with the embarrassing word vomit. “I’m lactose intolerant and this much dairy would mean stomach cramps for days.” I bite my lips together and close my eyes. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know that. I haven’t taken a sip. See. No lipstick prints.” I thrust the cup toward him and reluctantly crack a lid.

He’s smiling. Widely. “I’m very glad I caught you when I did then. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for an afternoon of prolonged discomfort.”

We exchange takeout cups. “It would’ve been my fault for not checking more than the S, but I was trying to escape my embarrassment. Seems like it’s following me around and making things worse.” I step away from this exceptionally hot man who inspires an unprecedented amount of word vomit. “Thank you for stopping me. You, uh...you didn’t drink out of mine, did you?”

“I didn’t.” His eyes are blue. So vibrant and pretty and his teeth are straight. I glance at his hand. His ring finger is bare. Then I realize he’s giving my hand the same inspection. “Do you work around here?”

“Just across the street.” I thumb over my shoulder. “You?”

“No, but I’m in the area often.” He tucks a hand in his pocket. “Maybe you’d like to grab a coffee later this week?”

I blink at him. Then open my mouth and ask a stupid question. “Are you asking me out?”

“Unless you’re already seeing someone. I didn’t see a ring, so I was hopeful.” His bottom lip slides through his teeth and for a moment, he looks boyishly handsome.

“But…you don’t know anything about me.” I don’t know why I haven’t said yes yet. He’s attractive and thoughtful enough to stop me from drinking the wrong coffee. His kindness saved me from ending up curled in the fetal position on a bathroom floor.

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