“Hey, Vee, can I get a raspberry caramel macchiato, please? Heavy on the whip.” Steve smiled. “Changing it up today. Need a little extra sweetness.”
I yawned and shuffled to fill Steve’s drink order. He was a regular and normally, we chatted easily while I fixed his coffee and bagged his blueberry muffin.
Today? I was so tired I could barely stop yawning long enough to make change.
Last night, I’d talked to my rustic Casanova until almost three a.m. I’d taken a leap and asked if maybe we could talk on the phone this weekend, and he’d diverted me by saying he felt as if we’d learned so much about each other that we might as well have already spoken on the phone. Then he’d mentioned having a weakness for blonds with rainbow streaks in her hair and I’d let it go.
And…sent him a selfie in my hair towel and robe, making sure a little bit of wet cleavage showed.
I wasn’t hugely endowed, but I was happy enough with my bounty from nature. From the way he’d sent back a tent emoji and a few eggplant emojis along with a half dozen heart icons, he must’ve been okay with how I looked too.
He knew who I was after all. I was the only one in the dark here.
Not that I minded the mystery. Much.
Okay, it was bugging me as much as wondering why Murphy had gone one hundred percent mute in my direction. And I knew that was disingenuous, having a thing for two men at one time. But they both intrigued me.
At least I had some kind of chance with Cabin Fortress. With Murphy? Haha, nope.
“Vee? Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself.” Steve coughed, his ears turning pink. “How are you doing on your, um, journey to, um, motherhood?”
God, did anyone not know of my Facebook post in this town? I was beginning to think not.
With a weak smile, I passed Steve his bagged muffin and his coffee. “Fine. Great. Thank you. Have a nice day. Please come again. Tomorrow. Bye.”
Steve flashed me a quizzical look and left.
I filled orders methodically for a couple of hours until my break. Lucky showed up just before I was about to step into the back to have my lunch, and he convinced me to sit with him at a table in front instead with a cup of cocoa and a pita pocket sandwich stuffed with sprouts and chicken salad, one of the new offerings in Macy’s ever-expanding product line.
We’d been talking for a few minutes—while I ignored the far too interested looks of some of the customers seated around us—when I decided to go on a little fishing expedition.
“So, you live alone?”
“Am I supposed to admit now that I have a wife and kids stashed away?”
I shrugged and picked off a corner of bread. “Just making friendly conversation.”
“Hmm. Yeah. I live alone.”
I set my chin on my fist. “That’s nice. I do too. I have an apartment here in town. Right up the street actually. Are you in the town proper?”
“Actually, no, I’m outside a bit.”
“Oh, is that so? How far outside? Not all the way to near Syracuse? Surely you wouldn’t commute that far?”
“No. Other side of the lake.”
My stomach twisted and it wasn’t because the chicken salad had gone bad. “By the woods or near the older houses right by the water?”
“Other side of the lake,” he repeated, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “Are you angling for an invite to my place? Because if so, you don’t have to try that hard, beautiful. You’re welcome anytime.”
I laughed it off and picked up my pita pocket, taking a big bite so I didn’t ask any more probing questions I probably didn’t want the answers to anyway.
If my mystery man online was Lucky, then clearly, he had a hidden sweeter side. Besi
des, it wasn’t as if he was a hardship to look at. He’d make a cute baby.
That was all I cared about, right?