Page 49

Chapter One

Nell

I ’d been waiting for my crush to show up at the café all day, even though I didn’t admit it to myself. Then the bell over the café door jingled, and he stepped through. And there he was at last, in my face. Mr. Tall, Dark and Hyper-focused.

I stepped behind the dessert display case, seizing the opportunity ogle him from over the pecan fudge brownies and under the Napoleon pastries.

Looking at that man gave me such a rush.

It was dumb, childish, embarrassing, inappropriate.

I was making my own self cringe. But the rush was impossible to resist. At least right now.

I had to have that little buzz. It was the only thing that even momentarily eased the dull ache in my middle.

I’d been carrying that heavy feeling around ever since my world imploded a few weeks ago with my mother’s death.

Maybe I would be carrying it forever. Always dragging those tight, forced, shallow breaths into that cramped, burning space around my bruised heart. No respite from it, ever.

At least not until I saw Mr. Tall, Dark and Hyper-Focused.

The first moment I laid eyes on him for the first time a few weeks ago, I got an effervescent rush through my body.

It lasted only the time it took for the guy to order, eat his lunch, pay up, and go, so not very long.

But oh, it was such sweet relief. Even for that brief interval.

The sickening awareness of what had happened to Lucia, my adopted mother, was never far from me.

The home invasion, the alleged heart attack.

Violence, fear, loss, it was always right there.

Just pushed a little bit to the back so I could function in the world.

More or less. I could dress a salad, pour coffee, bus plates.

But when my crush walked out the door, grief slammed me back down even harder than before, as if to punish me for trying to evade it.

He checked to see if his usual table by the window was free, which it almost always was.

Today was no exception. The lunch rush was over by the time he arrived; three-fifteen, regular as clockwork.

That gave me a buzzy little hum of hopeful anticipation to carry me along for all the hours of my shift that came before. Yay, me. Win-win.

He took off his jacket, tossed it on the chair, and seated himself. Then he pulled out a laptop, opened it, and set to work with all the grim concentration of a power drill.

For weeks he’d been here, every damn day. And ever since the first day, I’d been working all the lunch shifts, even though I would earn more tips with the dinner shifts, whenever I could schedule them around my teaching schedule.

But no. Broke and busted as I was, that fleeting rush I got from seeing Mr. Hyper-Focused was worth more to me than a pocketful of tips. How freaking silly and sad was that, considering that the man was oblivious to my very existence.

I took my glasses off and swiftly polished them on my apron.

The better to see you with, my dear. I perched them back onto my nose and fished the order I’d just taken out of my short-term memory before it disappeared into the churning abyss, and promptly dished up ratatouille for the table of women underneath the aquarium, gawking at my crush all the while.

I shot quick, surreptitious glances as I drizzled vinaigrette with a practiced flick of my wrist, and tossed grated beets and roasted pumpkin seeds on their salads.

I loaded the tray and chose a path through the restaurant that brought me right past his table, close enough to smell the detergent his crisp white shirt was washed in.

The next pass was to refill the water glasses.

That run made me conclude that he had asked his dry-cleaner to put extra starch into his collars and cuffs.

Another sneaky run through the tables with the coffee pot garnered me a greedy whiff of his aftershave.

Mmm, nice. Woodsy, notes of citrus. And those shoulders.

Flaring out, so broad and thick and solid-looking.

I wondered what it would feel like to sink my nails into them.

He wasn’t movie-star beefcake handsome, not with that rough, angular face, those deep-set, laser-sharp dark eyes, but something about him just got to me. I had studied his features, reviewing them over and over in my daydreams and sexual fantasies.

His face was rugged. Olive skin, that big, bladelike nose with the crooked bump on it, the black, slashing eyebrows set at a sharp upward angle.

His cheeks were lean, with grooves flanking his mouth, and he had crinkled lines around his eyes, as if he’d squinted into the desert sun for a long time.

His mouth was flat and unsmiling, his black hair was cut short, and it stuck up wildly every which way.

The resulting look worked for me. No way would that guy affect such spiky, messy hair on purpose.

He could not be bothered with such petty considerations.

He did not give a rat’s ass if anyone was looking at him.

He didn’t care about his hair. For some random reason, that was a turn-on for me. Go figure.

I dared a peek at his computer screen from behind his broad, muscular back.

I could make out his prodigious muscle definition even through the fine cotton of his dress shirt.

The screen was thick with code. Which was all Greek to me, besides being none of my damn business.

I walked away, chin up, resolute. Mature. Ignoring him.

After one last, hungry peek.

Behind the counter, my boss, Norma, looked over from the marinated mushrooms she was grilling with a smile. “He’s here again, eh, Nelly?” she said. “Can’t get enough of that strip steak sandwich, I see. Before I lose you in a romantic daze, honey, I need to ask a favor.”

Oh, God. My crush was that obvious? I grabbed the bread knife and began slicing. “Ask away,” I said grimly.

“Easy does it, hon. Don’t maim yourself.

Couldn’t help but notice that you never take your eyes off the fellow.

Can’t say I really blame you. He’s definitely a hottie.

Those big, thick shoulders, mmm. If I were twenty-five years younger .

.. hell, maybe even just fifteen ...” Her voice trailed off, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

I was too mortified to be a good sport today. I just kept slicing bread.

“Workaholic, though,” Norma went on in a musing tone.

“Always tappity-tapping away, never a glance for the cute little waitress serving him. You’re wasted on him sweetheart.

Take it from an expert. Leave that guy alone.

He’d be good for nothing but a bunch of plate-throwing arguments about emotional availability. And believe me—I know whereof I speak.”

“Thanks for the advice.” I apportioned the sliced bread into a bunch of baskets. “But I don’t need it. I’m not getting anywhere near him, or any other man. Believe me. I have enough drama in my life these days. Any more would break me.”

“Whatever you say, honey. Hey, are you free to work an evening shift? Kendra just called in sick. Again. That girl’s driving me crazy. Always at death’s door.”

I gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Norma, but I’m teaching a discussion section tonight for the American poetry course.”

Norma clucked her tongue. “I was afraid of that. Oh well. We’ll be shorthanded, but we’ll survive. Maybe I can get Pete to come in, if he’s between boyfriends. Go on, get some coffee for that hardworking fellow before he starts feeling put upon. Do you absolutely have to wear those glasses, Nelly?”

I snatched the glasses in question off my nose and polished them again, defensively. “Unless you want me to bump into tables, yes! What’s wrong with my glasses?”

“They just make you look so, I don’t know. Bookish, I guess.”

“Norma, I’ve got news for you. I am bookish! To the marrow of my bones! It’s my most defining personality trait!”

“Aww, now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Your eyes are so big and brown and pretty, I just want the world to see them.

” Norma tucked a hank of curly black hair from behind my ear so that it dangled ticklishly around my chin and proceeded to tug down the front of my apron to show a little more of my chest. “For God’s sake, Nelly.

Youth is wasted on the young. Go on, scram! Get the man’s order!”

I poured out the cup of black coffee that he always wanted and scurried out with my order pad, self-consciously tugging my sunset-tinted apron bib back up over my cleavage, annoyed and agitated.

Norma was very old school when it came to directives on mating behavior.

She was also an immensely kind woman and a really good boss.

I was lucky to have found her, and I knew she meant well, so I couldn’t get huffy with her for crossing the line.

Besides, I got too fluttery to stay mad when I took Mr. Hyper-Focused’s order anyway.

God alone knew why. We’d never so much as made eye contact.

I could take his lunch order stark naked, and he would never notice.

I placed his coffee on the table. Without shifting his eyes from the screen, he reached for it and took a sip. “Thanks,” he said, in that deep, resonant voice that made me go all shivery and stupid. “The usual, please.”

“Okay.” I concentrated fiercely on keeping my voice from going breathy and high-pitched. “We have three soups today: chicken noodle, French onion, and three bean. Which would you prefer?”

A small frown furrowed his forehead, but he didn’t look up. “I don’t care. You pick.”

“Okay. One bowl of I-don’t-care, coming right up.

” I stared, almost transfixed, at the cowlick at the crown of his head.

A wild, spiky vortex. There was raffish stubble on his tense-looking jaw.

His starch-stiffened cuffs were turned up, revealing tough, ropy muscles and black hair that lay flat and silky against the golden skin of his forearms.