Page 8 of Change of Plans

“No, I’m fine for now, thanks,” I said, smiling up at him.

Diccon’s face lit up. “That’s the smile I want to see.”

Dear heaven above, the man was sunshine in a barista’s apron. My awkward, dorky heart didn’t stand a chance.

Diccon started back to the counter, but turned to ask say, “Why don’t you come to open mic night tonight? I won’t be working, at least, I won’t be on the clock or behind the counter, so I’ll be able to give you my complete lecture on all the reasons why coffee made with the free trade, Ethiopian beans we roast ourselves is the best coffee you’ll ever taste.”

Against every rule of routine and law of personal nature I possessed, I sat a little straighter and said, “Yeah, um, okay. Maybe I will show up.”

“Great,” Diccon said, pointing at me several times in rapid succession with both hands. “See you then.”

He turned in what was almost a dance move to greet the new customers, but before he ducked behind the counter, I had a perfect view of his jeans-clad butt. How was I supposed to concentrate on architectural plans with an ass like that in the room?

I forced myself to focus on my laptop, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I was the King of Luck today, but I couldn’t figure out if it was bad luck or good for a change.

CHAPTER 3

Diccon

Open mic nights were always a ton of fun. Glenside was an eclectic community, and since we had the Keswick Theater right down the street, it was popular with a lot of indie acts. We never knew who would show up to play when we opened the floor to anyone who wanted to sing, play, or even slam some poetry on the tiny stage of our back room.

That night’s set list wasn’t what had me more energized than usual as I helped Sam and Gilbert set up chairs, though. Every time the front door opened, I glanced over my shoulder to see if Theo had finally arrived.

“You’re going to give yourself whiplash if you keep looking at the door like that,” Chase, one of the baristas who worked in the evenings and during events told me when I pivoted back to check the door for the dozenth time. “Waiting for someone, are you?”

I grinned sheepishly and ducked my head a little as I straightened the row of chairs in front of me. “Maybe.”

“I knew it,” Chase said victoriously. “It’s that hot red-head who always comes in during your morning shift, isn’t it.”

I stopped what I was doing entirely and stared at him. “How do you even know about that? You’re never here in the mornings.”

“I have ears,” Chase said, crossing behind me to clear off one of the tables at the edge of the performance space where earlier customers had left their dishes. “You know everyone in here gossips like aunties on a Sunday morning.”

I snickered. “Yeah, we do. That’s what found family is for.”

Although as soon as I said that, I wondered what, exactly, my brothers and the rest of the gang at Common Grounds were saying about me. We were all pretty open and supportive in our family and no one bugged anyone about when they were going to get a boyfriend or girlfriend. That didn’t mean people didn’t want me to find someone and be happy.

“Brian told me earlier that your architect friend spent most of the day working from the front table,” Chase went on.

“Yeah, the sprinkler system in his building went off, soaking everything, and it’s going to take a while before?—”

My explanation was cut short as the café door opened and Theo stepped in.

He looked great. The business casual he usually wore was gone. Instead, he was dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a crisp, blue button-down that accented his natural coloring. He looked nervous and completely out of his depth. A few feet inside the café, he paused and looked around, rubbing his hand on his jeans as if it had gone clammy.

A few seconds later, he spotted me across the growing crowd milling around the tables and making their way back to the performance space once they had their coffees for the night. His eyes met mine, and he smiled tentatively.

There was no such thing as tentative when I smiled. I raised a hand to wave at him, beaming triumphantly. He’d come after all.

“Yikes,” Chase said, snagging my attention before I could give all of it to Theo. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you.”

“Who, me?” I glanced at him with a grin.

“Don’t let me stand in your way.” Chase walked past me, taking his tray of dishes to the counter. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of true love.”

“It’s just an open mic night,” I said, shaking my head, but following him into the main part of the café. I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice to say, “I’m still not a hundred precent convinced he’s gay.”

“You’re not?” Chase raised one eyebrow at me, then snorted and shook his head.