He said the move was for business, but Noemi knew better. The move was a fresh start. A place her father could nurse his wounded heart in peace.
“Yo? Lady? You gonna pay for that coffee or just stand there staring off into space? Last time I checked, aliens aren’t crashing in from the ceiling…”
It turned out that rude asshole baristas weren’t exclusive to New York.
Noemi dug in her pocket and produced a twenty. She thumped it down on the counter and watched while the snobby barista in front of her- the guy had a nose piercing, one of those bull ring things that stuck out of the middle and didn’t look at all sanitary. He also had a scraggly beard and a man bun to match, which also didn’t seem to be exclusive to New York. The guy probably had never spent a day outside in his life, but she was willing to bet he owned at least ten different shades of plaid and six different colors of skinny jeans and that his social media pages proclaimed him to be a wildlife enthusiast who enjoyed leisurely trails through the woods.
Then again, this was Colorado, so maybe the guy was for real and not just the online, keyboard type hipster that was so common in New York.
“Here’s your change.” Change was emphasized and Noemi realized that she’d spaced out again. The dude was staring at her like she’d just sprouted an apiary from her forehead and the birds inside were currently squabbling and squawking over who had dibs on the tastiest worm for lunch.
“Thanks,” she muttered, tucking the bills away in her pocket. Not enough bills to justify leaving a tip for the shitty service or the overpriced six-dollar latte.
Noemi settled near the back of the small shop. The tables were black metal and so were the chairs. They were uncomfortable, yet she’d spent an hour and a half in them the day before. She wasn’t a creature of habit and she didn’t really even like coffee or coffee shops that much, with their artsy décor and their customers madly pounding away on their laptops to look important or scrolling their phones mindlessly, but for some reason, she was back.
Oh right. That reason was probably because she had no freaking clue what she was supposed to do with herself at the moment.
Where exactly does a person go after they’ve been told they’re being forced into a marriage with a stranger and after running across the country with a spooked, deer in the headlights look?
Work. Accommodations. Noemi decided she could start there. If she wanted to stay. Even with its snobby vibe, the resort town was probably as good as anywhere, and it was close to Boulder and close enough to Denver after that, for anything else she needed. She should probably, after drinking her latte, go back to her hotel room and work on finding a place that didn’t cost over a hundred dollars a night to lay her head. Finding a job would be the next pressing item on the agenda.
Noemi sighed. She pulled out her phone. It was new. Before leaving New York, she’d given her old one a dip in the bathtub. She’d also called and canceled all her credit cards but the one she knew she’d need to book a hotel room. It couldn’t be helped, but she hoped it left less of a paper trail reducing the amount she used. Other than that, she kept to using cash.
Honestly, she wanted a fresh start, not a fresh identity. She didn’t want to give up on her father. He was pretty much the only family she had left. She loved him. She just wanted a breather, and she sure as hell didn’t want to sign her life away married to some billionaire asshole who just wanted another trophy on his mantle and would likely just as easily have married her father, had that been the demand on the table, just to secure his business.
Living in New York left her with a keen sense for people. There were people everywhere. She didn’t think a person could ever truly be alone there. She also had never been overly shy. Her father used to bemoan her lack of stranger danger when she was a kid. Not that he called it that. He called her reckless and careless, but… same difference, right?
Her head cranked up when she sensed, more than saw, someone staring at her. The weight of his gaze burned into her like the sun on a hot, cloudless day. The guy sat there, staring at her from the other side of the shop. When she glanced up, he looked back down at his paper cup, but it was like the sun, even blocked by an unexpected cloud, still had the power to burn her.