Page 19 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

In my regular job, I would usually do my part and get out.

I would research and provide my findings to the team in charge.

I rarely ever get to see projects come to fruition firsthand or be a part of their implementation.

We decided to start providing samples of the coffee in-store to get people more excited as well, and the feedback we’re getting is just what we had hoped for.

It’s been leading to more positive comments on our posts, more engagement, and more people in the café.

I can tell Beck is thrilled, even if he’s steadily getting more anxious.

He has been less and less talkative with me, unless it’s strictly about the business, and there’s been none of the small affections that I’ve come to expect from him.

I think the last time he touched me was the hug from a week ago.

I’m not taking it personally, I know he has a lot going on. Despite trying to be understanding, it still stings a little to have had that wonderful night with him, to wake up in his arms, and then proceed to get the cold shoulder. I get the sense something else is up with him.

I know he wants this to grow the business, but there’s an apprehension about him that I can’t quite wrap my head around, a level of anxiety that doesn’t match what we’re trying to do here.

Despite the fact that things are going well, it’s like he’s waiting for a shoe to drop, one that I can’t even see.

The man needs to relax, badly, so I decide to take matters into my own hands next time we both have a break in our day.

Waiting for that break takes nearly four hours before I can pull him away from his computer, even though we’re basically sharing a desk.

We brought in a small table for me so we can work at the same time.

Lately, though, with all the collaboration that we’re doing, we often end up sitting at the same desk anyway.

“So,” I begin, jostling Beck out of whatever train of thought he’s been riding, making me feel slightly bad, but not enough to shut up.

He needs this. “I was thinking of going out to that new Greek place for dinner. Catching a break? We’ve been pushing through this so hard, I know I need the mental breather.

” I’m laying it on thick, hoping he’ll get the hint that he needs the break as well.

“Yeah, no worries. You going to come back here after? Or will I see you tomorrow?”

Apparently, that was hoping for too much.

I press on. “I was actually thinking you could join me? Maybe both of us could stand to get out of this room for an hour or two.” I give him a friendly smile, turning on any amount of charm I can muster.

Even though Italians are notorious for feeding people incessantly, I’m only going to drag him out here as a last resort.

As much as we’re friends—potentially more—he’s still my employer and I don’t want to overstep.

“I’m flattered Hazel, I really am. With everything going on…”

Oh my god. He thinks that I’m asking him out.

I’m exhausted, so it only enrages me a little, seeing as I’m literally looking out for his wellbeing, and he’s been looking at these same four walls for almost twelve hours.

The fact that he thinks that’s the only reason I would want to spend time with him?

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Hazel, you know I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart. Right now, I’m in the middle of securing some financing and I really can’t drop it to deal with personal things.” He doesn’t even look up from his screen, and he still manages to sound so condescending.

Okay, NOW I’m offended.

“I was looking out for you because you’ve been locked in this room so long, you’re starting to look as white as your name.

” His gaze snaps to mine. “But yeah, I definitely have ulterior motives here, right? I can’t just want to help out a colleague.

You made me come one time and now all I want, desperately, more than I need this job, more than you need to turn your freaking brain off for even a minute, is a date with Philip Beckett,” I huff, standing up and grabbing my bag.

“Ignoring the fact that you haven’t touched me once since then or given me any indication that you are interested, that must be all I want from you.

I can’t possibly want anything for you.” Beck manages to look ashamed, hanging his head in his hands on the desk.

“Well, I’m off to dinner, because I am a human who needs to eat food to live, and then I’m going to work from home for the rest of the evening. Email me the task list and let me know what you want me to handle.” I have my hand on the doorknob, looking back at him one last time. “Goodnight, Beck.”

I’m not one for dramatic walkaways, but I’m fuming as I make my way through the café, which has already been flipped for the evening. I’ve never seen it like this. It’s actually pretty cool. Unfortunately, I’m too mad to appreciate it as I resolutely leave the building.

I can’t believe this is happening, and from Beck, no less.

No matter what I do or how well I perform at my job, clearly, he thinks that romance is the only reason that I’m here.

I have been busting my ass on this, coming in every day when I could work from home, putting in insane hours, usually by myself in the back office, coming out occasionally for food and sometimes to talk to Beck, but clearly all I want from him is romantic attention.

I thought we were at least becoming friends, if not friends who would maybe want something more in the future.

I’m walking up the steps to my apartment by the time I realize that I’ve been on autopilot, and zoomed right past the restaurant. It’s fine, though, I’m sure I have something in my freezer I can whip up, or some leftovers from the previous night’s takeout that I can nuke.

Turns out, I don’t. I’m going to have to order in. Again.

I pull up the food delivery app on my phone, selecting the same restaurant I’ve been wanting to try.

Greek should travel well, right? I’m about to place my order when there’s a knock at the door.

I’m not expecting anyone, and for a moment I’m terrified that it’s Justin.

I creep quietly over to the door and look through the peephole because I am not an idiot.

Beck stands right outside, leaning on the door with one hand, catching his breath.

Did he run here?

“What do you want?” I call to him through the door. I don’t particularly want to see him while I’m still angry.

“I want to apologize! I was a dick.” Well, that’s unexpected. I deliberate what to do with that information as he continues. “I was a massive dick, actually.”

I should at least hear what he has to say, I rationalize.

I open the door enough to see him, keeping the opening blocked so he doesn’t think that it’s an invitation in. Realization crosses his face, and maybe a bit of disappointment, before he looks back up at me. We stand in a stalemate for a moment.

“Hazel, I am so sorry. I should never have assumed anything about your offer. The truth is that I really like you, and I’ve been closing myself off, trying to figure out my shit and business shit, and I was out of line.

” He takes a tentative step forward. “I did mean a few things I said.” I bristle and take a step back, closing the door a little more because this is not what I need tonight.

Beck places his hand in the doorframe, though, refusing to let me slam it on him.

“The things about how I think you’re beautiful, and smart, and funny, and I love spending time with you. ”

I will not melt over one nice apology.

He moves in even closer, and this time I don’t stop him from opening the door and stepping into the apartment. He lets the door swing shut as he extends his hand to me, searching for mine.

“I like you, and I know I’ve been giving mixed signals since… well, since the last time I was here.” I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of seeing this man blush, and as far as apologies go, it’s a pretty good one .

“You have,” I say. I try to sound angry, but I’m a simp, and I can’t help leaning into his touch as he cradles my face, giving me the affection I have been craving from him. I’ve never been good at staying mad at people.

“I know, and I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I got so caught up in my list of shit I have to do that I just… I couldn’t see anything else. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Beck, you didn’t make me any promises, it was one night. I hope you know I’m not holding you to anything.” I feel like such a bitch all of a sudden. He doesn’t owe me anything. It was one night. He didn’t lead me on. We talked about spending more time together, and we technically were.

“I want to.” His hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, stepping forward so I have to tilt my head up to meet his eye.

“I want to make promises to you, I want you to hold me to them, and more importantly, I just want to be near you.” My heart flutters.

“Being around you has been the highlight of this month.”

I graze my hands up Beck’s arms. It’s hard to believe him, no matter how badly I want to.

His arms envelop me, and I barely have time to react before he kisses me firmly.

I feel frozen. When he goes to pull away, I snap out of it, my hand twining itself into his hair and yanking him back down to me, earning me a low groan as he spins us and presses me up against my closed front door.

His hands are everywhere, overwhelming me as I lose myself to his touch. I feel like an addict getting the hit I’ve been craving. I’m gasping by the time we both pull back.

“Fuck,” Beck says under his breath, tucking his face into my neck, “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.” A giggle makes its way up my throat at the thought of him wanting this as much as I do as he continues to cling to me, catching his breath.

“Now,” Beck says, pulling his head up to place his forehead on mine, staring into my eyes until I’m almost cross-eyed, “I believe you mentioned something about food?” This time I laugh outright, grab my purse off the hook behind the door, and drag him out with me.