Page 2 of Change of Plans

As far as regulars went, Theo Callihan was my favorite. Every weekday morning like clockwork, he stepped through the door in his business casual, auburn hair combed perfectly, green eyes serious. Every weekday, my stupid insides did a little flip and my smile got a little bit broader as I watched him take his place at the end of the line. Every weekday, I told myself today was the day I would to say something more than “Hello” and “The usual?”

The buff guy now standing right in front of me cleared his throat. My face heated as I snapped out of my reverie and paid attention to him.

“I’ll try some of that new Kenyan blend you just mentioned,” he said overly seriously. “Large, though.”

“Got it,” I smiled, tapping in his order. “Large special blend!”

“Large special blend,” Brian repeated.

“That would be one large special blend!” Hannah sang with particular enthusiasm from the kitchen.

The tall guy’s mouth twitched, but not quite into a smile. “Oh, and I just posted this outside, but I should probably give a copy to you, too.” He took a piece of paper from the satchel slung over his shoulder and slid it across the counter to me.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing over it briefly, then setting it down on the end of the counter, not really knowing what it was. Not knowing bothered me a little. Should I be smart enough to make heads or tails of it? “That’ll be four ninety-five.”

As the man paid, my other brother, Gilbert, walked past me behind the counter, spotting the paper before he walked out the other side on his way to join Sam in the performance space. “I’ll take this,” he said, glancing from the paper to me to the tall guy.

The tall guy nodded tightly to Gilbert, then moved on to wait for his coffee. Brian was on fire that morning and doing a great job of getting people their orders in a hurry, which meant I could take the next few people in line, all while watching Theo move ever closer.

At last, Theo reached the counter, and I felt that bright little hitch of attraction as our eyes met.

“Let me guess,” I said with a wry grin before he could give me his order. “Plain black coffee, medium, no frills.”

For a split second, Theo looked like I’d accused him of something. Then he softened, and the cutest little wine stainblush spread across his freckled face. “Am I that boring?” he asked, just a bit stiltedly.

“Not at all,” I told him, being as warm as I could. “I love it when people have regular orders.”

“Because it means I’m predictable?” Theo asked with a slight frown.

“No, because regular orders are what makes this place feel like family,” I insisted.

“Ah.” One syllable. That was all I got out of him.

That only made me warm to the man more. Theo couldn’t have been much older than I was at twenty-five. He was far too serious for his age, which I kind of found adorable, and I could tell from the way he dressed that he took his job seriously. I was pretty sure he was an architect or something along those lines. I’d almost tried to strike up a conversation with him before, but since he always came in during the busiest part of the mornings, I’d never had time to delve deep.

“So we’re sticking with the usual today?” I asked just so I could prolong the moment. If I was smart, I’d just ask him out. The trouble was, because Theo was always relatively serious and shy, I had yet to figure out if he was into men or not. There was a chance we were heading for a Bill and Hannah situation, where we liked each other but knew nothing was going to happen.

“Yeah, the usual,” Theo answered, almost but not quite cracking a smile.

“Plain Black No-Frills Medium,” I called over my shoulder.

“Plain Black No-Frills Medium,” Brian sang out.

We both waited, expecting Hannah to add her voice to the morning song, but instead she leaned against the kitchen window and said, “Small problem with that. Can I see you back here?”

Brian and I exchanged a look over our broken routine.

“Is something wrong?” Theo asked, looking deeply concerned.

“I don’t think so. Hold that thought,” I said, holding up a finger, then stepping away from the counter to swing around by the doorway to the kitchen. Most of the people in line were regulars anyhow and wouldn’t complain about the wait.

“Get in here,” Hannah hissed when I stepped into the doorway.

I moved all the way into the hot, cramped space, but before I could say anything, Hannah grabbed my wrist and closed the distance between us.

“You are not going to go another day without asking for the hot ginger’s phone number,” Hannah scolded me as something on the stove started to boil.

I laughed. “Is that what this is? You’re concerned for my dating life?”