Page 9 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Hazel

I don’t know where this woman gets her energy, but even while hungover, Nessa has me fully ready and out the door to IKEA less than ten minutes after getting up.

She even figured out my ancient coffee maker and used my new creamer I’d picked up.

She’d laid out leggings, a sweater, and some cute socks to go with my boots now that the autumn winds have rolled in.

Something about having Nessa with me and knowing that I really don’t have to use my brain makes the anxiety in me settle.

It’s uncomfortable to be taken care of for once.

Usually, I’m the one taking care of those around me.

It’s surprisingly nice to only have to think about me on the quiet subway ride to IKEA.

Nessa has already popped in an earbud and is quiet as well, compared to her bubbly enthusiasm from last night.

Probably the combination of wine, the metric ton of cheese we ate, and sleeping on a couch in a relative stranger’s home.

The coffee and the quiet have me feeling refreshed by the time we get off at the Dundas subway stop and walk the block to the Swedish mecca.

Perusing the showroom is downright spiritual for me. I spend at least thirty minutes walking through the different rooms, seeing what I can change, from my furniture to my bedding, and my decor. Basically, anything that Justin had brought into our apartment instead of letting me keep my own things.

Nessa seems content to send me home with the entire store.

“This new space needs to be your haven! Get things that make you happy, not things that you think someone else will approve of!” she shouts at me enthusiastically.

While I don’t mind the advice, she could have shouted it in the privacy of my apartment.

As I soon learn, there is no stopping her once she gets on a roll.

By the time we finish paying for my pink sheets and dishes, new glasses, some plants, a bedside table that matched the new frame, my mattress, and some other odds and ends that I had no idea Nessa was throwing into the cart until after the fact, it finally occurs to me that neither of us have a car to bring this all back.

I sit in defeat right outside the doors by the checkout lanes, finally feeling the wine and my buzz wear off.

Nessa strolls out with a mile-long receipt in hand, her face falling when she sees me.

“What’s the matter? Is it the Bergpalm duvet cover? Because we can still run in and return it if it’s causing this level of depression.” I would have laughed if she hadn’t looked so sincere.

“No, it’s not the Bergpalm, I just remembered we don’t have a car. Lugging this home is going to be a nightmare,” I bemoan.

“Oh, that’s no issue!” I sit up straighter at that. “I texted Beck while you were looking at wine glasses in the marketplace, he’s going to be here in, like, five minutes to grab us and take us back to your place!”

I feel heat rush to my face. He’s coming here? Right now?

“Why would Beck pick you up? I thought he was your boss?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“Oh, we’re besties,” Nessa says, while scrolling a video app.

“Really?” I press.

“Totally! We met years ago when we were both working at this gross old bar, the Rusty Nail, and we used to shit-talk the customers in the back together before he became the manager. He figured out I was alone in the city and would give me rides to and from work and we ended up talking, and we grew really close. When he moved over to Booze & Brews , I followed him. We’ve always worked well together and had each other’s backs, no matter what.

” She smiles, returning to her phone. She makes it sound so cut and dry, but I suspect that there’s more to that story.

It’s not my business to pry, so I let it drop.

I’m still simmering in my curiosity when a large black SUV pulls up and the smoking hot bar-slash-coffeehouse owner steps out. He pushes his shades onto his head, puts his hands on his hips and looks down at us.

“You know, out of all the favours you’ve asked of me over the years, Nessa, this still doesn’t rank the weirdest.” His shoulders shake with laughter as he starts lifting the bed frame into the back.

Nessa just laughs at him, loading up the car, then closes the hatch on our purchases and climbs into the backseat before I have a chance to, leaving the front seat to me.

Next to Beck.

Awesome.

“Thanks for the ride,” I manage to get out, hoping that this drive is the fastest drive of my life, trying not to look at the walking temptation sitting next to me.

I can feel the sizzling heat of his gaze though, and it’s making a girl struggle over here.

I anxiously tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear.

“Oh, no problem! Once Nessa said you guys were hanging out, I figured wine would be involved, then she mentioned IKEA and I remembered you didn’t have a car… it’s really no problem.” He runs his hand through his hair. I’m sure I imagine the pink tint running up the sides of his neck.

“Yeah, it… umm… kind of got away from us…” I look into the back at how much we’ve actually gotten. Thank god for credit cards. “Had I remembered we didn’t drive, I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much stuff, or at least I would have gotten it for delivery.” I bury my face in my hands.

“Like I said, sugar, it’s not a problem,” he reassures with a slow smile, like we’re sharing a secret.

His voice is warm and affectionate, and when he calls me sugar…

I turn all kinds of pink at the nickname, and I can see Nessa in the back, watching with rapt fasciation.

“It’s cool that you’re ready to start fresh and give yourself what you need to do that.

It’s healthy, so if this is what you need, I fully support it.

” The grin he gives me is pure sunshine, and I try not to preen under the attention or let it go to my head.

When we pull up to the apartment, I haul myself out of my seat, grateful to be out from under his watchful gaze, and start pulling things out of the car.

“Thanks again for the ride!” I shout, trying to get everything out as quickly as possible, dreading lugging it all up.

“No problem,” Beck replies smoothly, getting out of the car and bringing bags to the front door, Nessa following close behind. I’m surprised when they both start lugging things up the stairs without comment.

“Doesn’t this building have an elevator?” Nessa calls out, completely swamped with her bags.

“Nope,” I grind out bitterly, “We wanted to save money by renting a walk-up instead.” I remember the conversation we had when we were apartment hunting.

“ But babe, this will save us so much money, and then we can get a house!”

“Justin, those stairs are going to be a bitch after a night of drinking, or a long shift…” I hint, trying to get him to cave.

No dice.

“We could use that money to get married…” he drifts off, looking up at me slowly.

He knows that marriage, a family, is something I want, something he dangles in front of me whenever we talk about our future.

By this point, it doesn’t even get me excited anymore, I don’t get those butterflies in my stomach.

I tell myself it’s because we are so stable, so secure.

“Hellooooooo, earth to Hazel!” Nessa shouts from the steps below me, “Wanna put that cute ass inside so some of us can put this down?” I didn’t even realize I’d stopped on the first landing, lost in my own memories .

“Shit, sorry, long morning!” I call down, rummaging for my keys and pushing through the discomfort up the second flight of stairs.

I open the apartment door and promptly drop everything off to the side of the entrance in the kitchen and then run back to hold the door for Nessa.

She saunters in, clearly not in as much of a hurry as she had made it seem, and then I look behind her.

My mouth hangs open a little and I can feel heat pooling in my core.

Beck. Carrying the entire bed frame. Arms bulging, focused look, barely any heavy breathing.

This man has muscles on muscles, and he’s wearing a t-shirt, and I can see all of his tattoos that cover both arms, one wrapping up his shoulder to the side of his neck, and I have to resist the urge to throw myself at him.

I flush and quickly step into the apartment to hold the door for him, looking back to see Vanessa smirking at me. She is reveling in my mortification. God, I need a rebound so badly, and there is no way in any circle of hell I can make that my ex-boyfriend’s boss.

Well, ex-boss technically…

I immediately shut down that train of thought. This is supposed to be my single-girl era, my ho phase, literally anything that involves me being by myself and learning about myself and rediscovering me.

“So, you want help setting up all this furniture, sugar?” Beck asks, placing the bed frame down.

I hadn’t realized he was so close behind me, and his proximity makes me shiver.

I absolutely want to watch this man put together IKEA furniture for me, especially when he’s calling me sugar, which does something to my insides that I still refuse to admit to.

“Umm, we can probably handle it.” I say, looking over to Nessa. The gleam in her eye tells me she does, in fact, pick up on the vibe I’m trying to hide, and absolutely does not have my back.

“Actually, we could totally use the help! And we have to take out her old bed frame and mattress because someone , not naming names, was caught doing it on there and now it’s cursed,” she declares confidently. Beck’s neck slowly turns pink again. Why is watching this man blush so hot?

“I can take those out to the dump while you get everything else set up. Then I can come build your new bed? If you want, that is. I don’t want to intrude.” His hand reaches up and rubs the back of his neck as he quickly breaks eye-contact with both of us. Is he… nervous?