Page 11 of Storm Warning
We arrive at the shop and I unlock the door, heading in first to flip on the lights. Daisy walks straight to the coffee. Funny how she plans to leave after finally having grasped how to make all the most important drinks. It only took two full weeks of oops pots and even worse concoctions she thought might be good. No one in their right mind wants a weak coffee where the syrup is more than half its contents. I cringe at thememory of the raspberry caramel drink she made. I would have been far better off just taking shots of the syrup and chasing with water, but the memory was well worth the sugar high and disgusting flavor.
The day progresses rather laid back for a Friday and the crowd luckily dies down early. Daisy makes her rounds emptying all of the garbage cans while I wash a few of the dishes and then head back to the till for a midday count. The bell above the door rings, drawing my gaze. I have to admit, even if having a coffee shop didn’t turn out to be what I wanted, it still has its perks. And by perks, I mean attractive men constantly crossing the threshold. I do my best to act completely uninterested, but he’s the type of good looking that requires zero talent to get the job. And I can think of two jobs any girl would happily do for him.Myself included.
“Hey.” His deep voice and devilishly handsome looks draw my attention, although it was already piqued. “I’ll take a black coffee.”
A black coffee? Really?
Well, I guess he’s got to have a flaw that stands out immediately. Every man does. I hope he’s not as boring as what he drinks or my desire to fuck him stops at his looks.
Despite how intrigued I am, I make sure to look completely unfazed by how ridiculously hot he is as I take his money. I even go so far as to not regain eye contact when I give him his change, pretending another glance isn’t needed. But as I turn to get his coffee, I don’t miss the chance to sway my hips a little extra in case he’s watching. Glad I wore my cutest low rise flare jeans today with the bedazzled pockets. I take my time pouring his cup before returning back to the counter and handing it to him.
Meeting his gaze, I notice the most alluring blue eyes I’ve ever seen, reminding me of crystal clear water from some far away island. With eyes like that, I bet just about anyone wouldhappily drown in them. I continue to feign indifference though. Mostly because I know men like the chase, but also because any man that looks like this is only meant for games. I notice his cowboy boots and my interest in him cuts in half. He’s undoubtedly the love-them-and-leave-them type like most men in Nashville.
He slides a napkin across the counter and my gaze stays firmly fixed on his.
“See you around,” he says, staring into my eyes a bit longer than someone only interested in coffee, then takes his drink and leaves.
I wait a few seconds after he exits the building before glancing down to see his name and number scribbled in the blue gel pen ink that sits next to my register.
HAYES 615-629-7891
“Hmm, maybe the next flavor of the week should have a certain someone in mind.” Daisy laughs as she glides past me with a fresh pot of coffee and pours it into the carafe. “Hayes, maybe?” She giggles, glancing over the napkin in my hand.
“Ha, ha, nice try. But what’s to say he’ll last more than a day? I don’t even know if he’d last a few minutes yet,” I mock, since she and I both know I’ve slept with my fair share of men just because. “I think a week seems rather official, doesn’t it?” I genuinely mean it, despite how lighthearted I make it sound. Most, if not all, men suck, and how would I know if he’s any different? Or whether or not I even want to find out. Frankly, I’m burnt out on using men, but even more so being used by them. A simple one night stand has always been plenty for me, but I want to be special to someone. Which is a hilarious thought coming from me, since I’m not sure I even believe in love, thanks to the lack of never having it. “Beyond his repulsively bland coffee order, he waswearing cowboy boots. That’s basically my number one red flag.”
Daisy’s eyes bug out of her head. “In Nashville? Doesn’t that eliminate pretty much every man here?”
Yes, that’s precisely why I do it.
“No, just the bad ones.”
Daisy exaggerates a fake eye roll followed by a grin, something she only does because she knows I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.
I head back to my office and let out a soft breath. I wish I wasn’t like this. So distrusting and callous. Why can’t I be like all the other girls and allow myself to blindly fall for someone? To expect men to want more than sex? Why do I have to worry about getting my heart broken, stomped on, and crushed before I ever even like someone enough for that to happen? It’s not like I don’t want to date, but I can’t date anyone if I’m constantly in my head about what they might do to hurt me. It’s not fair to them, and it makes all of it not fun for me.
I release a huff. Pulling the napkin from my back pocket, I look over the number again, then toss it into the garbage.
There’s no point.
I sit for a minute, stewing over whether or not that was the right choice, then toss a few unwanted papers over the top of it. Not only to avoid an unwanted conversation with Daisy, but also to remove the reminder for myself.
Out of sight out of mind, I guess.
Heading back out to the front, I spot Daisy wiping the tables down, her long dark ponytail flowing past her neck as she softly hums a song. I smile. Maybe someday I’ll love something or someone the way she loves music. I listen a little longer and then grab a broom and walk toward her.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me so soon,” I huff, setting the bristles on the ground. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyondexcited you get to be a rep and scout hot singers, but I’m going to miss spending all day everyday with you.”
Her gaze is a mix between endearing and confused. “Country singers wear boots too. Maybe we can find you a skater boy to match those hot pink Etnies you’re always trying to get me to wear, though neither of us have a skateboard.”
“Now, what makes you think I don’t have one?” I place my hand on my hip matter-of-factly.
“Probably the one hundred times I’ve been over and not seen it?” She crosses her arms, tapping on her chin while pretending to think about my house. “Umm, nope. No skateboard, butthere isa lot of pink cheetah print. Maybe we should find you a zoologist or a man who likes to travel.” She giggles.
“Ten minutes ago you were practically creating wedding invitations for me and napkin boy and now you’re shipping me with the Crocodile Hunter?” We both laugh, and I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if I wasn’t an only child. To have a sister like Daisy to joke around with. Or, at the very least, love from my family so that the idea of love didn’t always feel like a joke to me.
“I’d hardly call a flavor of the week wedding invitations. It’s more like an engagement.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile.
“Alright, enough about my never ending list of bachelors, and on to your replacement…” I keep the joke playful as I smirk. “I scheduled everyone who applied to come in today, which is, honestly, crazy timing given the news of your departure. I fully expect you to eavesdrop while you make yourself look busy behind the counter. That way you can help me decide if I’m just overly picky or if I miss something.”
