Adventures in Online Dating Page 7

  “And I genuinely think that’s the craziest idea I’ve heard in any of the forty-two years I’ve spent on this planet. He’s just a friend.”

  As Peyton stepped back, she grinned. “Yeah, but if you let them, the benefits of that friendship could be amazing.” Even though she wanted to frown at the idea, a laugh burst from Alexa’s throat, spoiling the image. “And that, right there, is why I think he’s good for you. We all need more Alex belly laughs in our lives—you more than the rest of us combined. Besides, he opens you up. It’s why you blurt things out around him. You can’t help it, and that’s something you need more of in your life.”

  “Good. Night. Peyton.”

  “I’m just saying maybe don’t count him out before you actually give him a chance. What would it really hurt?” She blew out a breath and smiled. “By the way, house on the corner sold. Rumor has it we have another single mom to join our club.”

  “Now that is good news.” Maybe someone new around would distract Peyton from this crazy obsession over hooking her up with Marshall.

  “Night.”

  As Alexa swung the door shut, happy to know their dynamic duo might soon be a trio, she couldn’t help but dwell on Peyton’s parting shot. What would it hurt? Really? She liked Marshall, and maybe the boys didn’t need a specific kind of man around so much as just a male presence. If they even needed that. She’d been accused of overthinking things—she’d even admitted to others she did it all the time. Perhaps she was overthinking things with the boys. And with Marshall.

  That was the thought that would follow her to sleep that night.

  …

  The Friday rush this week was insane. It started earlier with the first teens arriving a few minutes before three—all wearing workout gear and asking for to-go cups. Then, when the mass of people arrived, Marshall was sure it was bigger. Not double the numbers or anything crazy, but the Bean Counter was definitely busier.

  He had barely had time to ask Alexa about the day’s dates before that first group showed, and after that, they were too busy to do more than shout orders and names. For a solid hour, the two of them brushed against each other, too quickly to mean anything, but too often to be meaningless.

  Or maybe that was just Marshall still trying to convince himself there was something new between them.

  Which was stupid. Nothing had changed. Not her attire. Not their conversation. Not her smile. Nothing.

  It didn’t matter, because the air felt different somehow. As if the few feet of space they occupied during that hour had grown smaller, forcing them to touch more.

  Every half second breather he had, he glanced her way, watching as she dove into the work like somehow this was her real job, the thing that made her tick. At one point, the steamer gave a sharp whistle and practically erupted, causing her to jump and slosh coffee on her hand. He sucked in a breath, planning to pause the line and go help, but she dunked her left hand in a dish of water sitting next to the machine, letting it rest there while she finished what she was doing. Then she delivered coffee to Hannah, who according to the message on the cup, rocked her blue hair, and went right on to the next order as if nothing had happened.

  It was both the longest and fastest hour of his life. By the time the crowd thinned, Alexa’s hair was plastered to her face by a combination of steam and sweat, and she was grinning like an idiot. “That was fun. I think we had more people today. Is that an occasional Friday phenomenon?”

  “Maybe.” Based on past experience, numbers did improve on Fridays, but not like this. “Sorry we didn’t get the chance to talk earlier. The jock squad showing up five minutes early was definitely a new thing.”

  Alexa laughed and hung up her apron. “It’s not a big deal. I—” Her genuine smile turned to a deep frown as her phone went off with a robotic voice saying, “Your son is texting.” Without another word, she snatched up her phone, eyes going wide at the number of notifications. “Shit.”

  Marshall stepped back as she swiped open her messages. One thing he’d learned in the couple of weeks she’d spent working for him was that her kids didn’t interrupt. She was here, they knew how long she’d be here, and they waited for her to come home to share any news about their day. There hadn’t been a single message in the past two weeks. Today there had been at least ten.

  She frantically typed a return message and then grabbed her things and spun around, eyes going wide when she almost plowed into him. As if she had forgotten he was there. Her teeth found her lower lip and bit down, but then she shook her head. “I have to go. Apparently, my ex will be at the house in an hour.”

  “Oh. Yeah. No problem.” He stepped out of her path, and she blew by him. “Same time next week for your dates?”

  “Of course,” she yelled over her shoulder. She was already out the door before he even made it back to the register.

  In all their talks, he’d never asked her if she was still in love with her ex-husband. She’d said they were both happier apart, but if the way she rushed out was any indication, she was desperate to see him. Marshall let out a heavy sigh and stared at the glass door. The lettering of the Bean Counter’s name was starting to crack. Soon it would be peeling. Even though it was a small investment, replacing that hadn’t been in his budget for the year, and with things running as tight as they had been lately, it was time to hit the books and see how the numbers were falling.

  Plus, money woes would distract him from how flustered Alexa had been by her ex-husband’s impending arrival. “Hey, Claudette, we’re pretty dead for the moment. Can you handle the register?”

  “That’s just one of the many services I provide for my paycheck.” She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped to the counter like she was about to go on sentry duty.

  Coffee artist extraordinaire, but damn, she was not the best with customers. Whatever. If Marshall was lucky, they’d be dead for fifteen minutes, and she’d spend the time up front just cleaning the tops of the cases or something.

  In the backroom, he cracked the door to his tiny office. It was originally a closet, but he’d had it outfitted and squeezed in a tiny metal desk and chair. It was all he really needed. Setting his coffee down, he eased into the chair and booted up the computer. As soon as it warmed up, he opened his spreadsheet and transferred today’s numbers.

  “Moment of truth.”

  When the calculations finished, he blinked and then blinked again. Numbers overall were definitely up, no doubt about that. But the one that really got him was the in-house jumbo coffees. They were way up. Granted, other sizes were down, but the jumbo had taken a significant jump. He crunched a few more numbers and then compared them to the totals from two weeks ago.

  “I’ll be damned to hell and cursed to clean toilets.”

  It wasn’t quite to her projections, but already, the increase in revenue from in-house coffees had jumped a little over 11 percent. As he crunched the numbers from one day to the next, it became glaringly obvious that once things evened out, Alexa’s 15 percent estimate might have been lowballing it.

  Either way, they definitely had the money for the new signage, and the money for her freaking miniature doilies. Maybe there was something to her numbers and insane levels of planning after all. Which meant it would be in his best interests to save a little cash to pay her a reasonable rate for that kind of help. What the hell was a reasonable rate? Could he afford her? Somehow, he doubted he could pay for this with muffins and table time. And if he asked the wrong way, it could come across the same way that one asshat of a date had the other week.

  “How much do you charge for your…services?” made it sound like he was suggesting sex in exchange for her expertise.

  Which he totally wasn’t. If he ever managed to get Alexa in his bed, the only thing he’d be thinking about was the sex.

  Chapter Eight

  Alexa practically dove through the door when she made it home. Not knowing where the boys were, she shouted, “How long?” as she dropped her things in the ki
tchen.

  Brendan bounded down the stairs and swung around the corner. “You should have at least thirty minutes. He said he’d be here by five.”

  Which meant anywhere between four thirty and five thirty. She kissed Brendan on the top of the head. “You’re the best. Sorry for not responding sooner.”

  “It’s okay.” He grinned and slowly disentangled himself from her embrace. “I figured you were busy but that you’d want me to keep trying.”

  How many more years before a forehead kiss would be too much? Then again, he cared enough to make sure she wasn’t blindsided by Chris’s arrival. She was a lucky woman to have this kid looking out for her. Maybe she’d been wrong about them needing a man in their lives. In a couple years, Brendan would be that man for the other boys. “You did good. I’m going to go shower and change.”

  “No problem. Beau and Blake are watching SpongeBob.”

  She cringed a bit at that, but even if she had the time, she couldn’t complain. It was better than what a lot of sitters would let the boys watch.

  And she didn’t have time. As soon as she stepped into her master bath, she twisted on the shower and stripped out of her sweaty clothes. Thirty minutes meant she wouldn’t have time to actually do her hair, but she could swing clean clothing and fresh makeup.

  The water was barely lukewarm when she stepped beneath the spray, but she didn’t care. The last thing she wanted was Christian seeing her a mess.

  If Peyton knew what she was doing, she’d get an earful about acting like she still wanted to be with him and pining over something that was clearly over. That wasn’t the case at all. The exact opposite, in fact.

  She needed Chris to see her happy and put together, not so he’d see what he was missing or any such nonsense, but as carefree and wild as the man was, he had a deeply ingrained streak of obligation. If he got the sense she was running ragged taking care of the boys, he’d be back in town for real. He’d almost done just that the first year after the divorce, but she’d known they were destined to fail again and managed to put a stop to it. By the next time he visited, all her planning had paid off—they had the house and a nice stable life. He was gone again in under a week.

  And that worked for all of them. As much as she wanted the boys to have more of a relationship with Christian, that didn’t mean wanting him here full time. Both because it would cramp their style and because he’d eventually grow bitter about having to leave his nomadic life behind.

  Which meant she couldn’t open the door sweaty and coffee stained. She didn’t have to look perfect, but she had to pull off better than bedraggled barista.

  The shower was one of the fastest of her life, and halfway through, she was giving serious thought to chopping her hair off in order to speed things up next time. But as soon as the conditioner was thoroughly rinsed, she slid open the door and stepped from the steam.

  Her reflection stared back at her like a ghost as the mirror fogged over. Forty-two, and no matter who said otherwise, Alexa saw every year on her body. The stretch marks from pregnancy on a belly that would never be quite flat again. Heavy breasts that weren’t quite as full and perky as they once were. At least the heat from the shower gave the illusion the crow’s feet and other wrinkles disappeared. She knew men still found her attractive enough, but she did have to wonder for how long. When would she hit that tipping point where the emphasis on the phrase “looking good for her age” shifted from looking good to the age part?

  A rapid-fire knock came at the bathroom door. “Update. Before five. Definitely before. And it’s four twenty-five.”

  God bless her teenage son. “Thank you.”

  Alexa raked a brush through her hair and applied the gel and root lifter that would define her natural curls and give them bounce as they air-dried. Fresh clothes. Touch up her brows. Mascara. And a swipe of lip color would have to do. She needed to be downstairs and in mom-mode by the time Chris arrived.

  She made it into the kitchen and had the ingredients for dinner spread on the counter when the doorbell rang.

  “Got it,” Beau called as he raced to the door. Chris had announced his impending arrival and the boys all knew.

  The cries of happiness when the door opened brought a smile to her heart. She hated having to rush home, but their joy was worth it. They needed whatever time their father was willing and able to give them. And the best part was she knew, even if rare, it was always quality time with Chris. That mattered more than quantity—a lot more—which wasn’t a thought she had about most other things.

  He rounded the corner with Beau on his back, Blake dangling from his right arm like a monkey, all while chatting with Brendan. It gave her a chance to take him in. He’d been somewhere sunny recently. It had lightened his sandy brown hair to a dirty blond. There was a new scar, at least three inches long, directly to the side of his right eye, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, his bright blue eyes sparkled when he turned to her.

  “Alex, you’re looking good. Happy.”

  Thank God.

  Good and happy meant he’d stay as long as whatever he’d initially planned and then be off again. Life as they knew it wasn’t going to change because he saw something amiss. She nodded at him. “And you look as if you’re going to regale us with adventures from…the outback? A safari in Africa?”

  He laughed, and the smile made his tanned face crinkle in ways it hadn’t before. As much as she’d worried about the lines on her face, clearly, he didn’t give a second thought to his. “I’ve actually been crewing a boat. Saw parts of the world I probably wouldn’t have made it to otherwise.”

  “And now you’re back here?” She hadn’t meant to ask that way, with the real question barely hidden. How long are you sticking around?

  He caught the implication, that much was obvious by the way his smile dipped. It was a move she knew well—the one that said he was trying to read her and found her to be as perplexing as a Choose Your Own Adventure book. Only one option was the right one, and she hadn’t indicated what he should decide.

  This time, he shook his head, too-long hair waving about. “A few days. Then I head to Arizona. I got work as an extra on a movie.” He tipped his head toward the dinner ingredients. “I was hoping I could snag the boys for a while.”

  And get her out of cooking after a long day? Yes, please. “For dinner? Sure.”

  “I was actually thinking for the weekend—if they don’t have too much homework, of course.” His lips twitched back into the carefree grin that had won her heart nearly two decades before. “I haven’t gotten to see them all that much, and I’m really not sure when I’ll be back next.”

  She couldn’t deny him time with the kids. She wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t bothered letting her know he’d be coming by. What if they’d had plans this weekend?

  But they didn’t. And the boys looked so damned happy to see him. She refused to play games with their emotions. Picking up the veggies from the counter, she strode over to the fridge, avoiding Chris’s gaze. “Of course. I would like to talk for a few minutes before you leave, though.”

  …

  With a little more than an hour left before handing the Bean Counter over to his night manager, all Marshall wanted to do was get a drink and go home. Maybe it was time to dig through the pile of papers on his dresser and ask one of the many women who kept slipping him their numbers to join him. Yeah. He had a night off, and for the first time in months, the café was headed in the right direction. It was definitely time for some R and R.

  He glanced up from the dinner crowd’s receipts to find Alexa standing in front of him.

  She wore a black pencil skirt so perfectly fitted he couldn’t wait for her to walk away from him. She’d paired it with a lacy blouse and short jacket. It looked like date attire if he’d ever seen any, but she certainly didn’t have the bearing of someone going on a date.

  She looked positively dejected.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m good.�
� She gave a smile, the tight-lipped one, but this time it didn’t even pretend to be the real thing. “Can I get a jumbo double-double. And…is it too late for dinner?”

  “You could come in ten minutes before close, and I’d still make you dinner, but I thought Friday was movie night at your house?” He didn’t even move to punch in her order. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t about to let her off without an explanation.

  She shrugged half-heartedly, and the truth hit him. Her ex. The guy had shown up at her house tonight unexpected, and here she was only a couple of hours later, without her kids. “Ex took the boys?”

  “Yes. So, I’m looking at coffee and a good book for my Friday night adventure.”

  No one—with the possible exception of an actress starring in librarian porn—dressed like that to read at a coffee shop. “I don’t think so.”

  After blinking at him, she shook herself. “What?”

  “Sorry, but Friday nights aren’t for coffee, they’re for drinks. Besides, you look too good to hide at a table here all night.” The bell chimed as Dylan came in. Perfect. “Night manager is here. As soon as I pass things off, I’m taking you out.”

  “Really. You don’t have to do that.” Alexa gave her head a shake that was so unenthusiastic, he wasn’t sure how he recognized it.

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He had to give her a better reason than his wants or she’d bolt. Quickly, he poured her a small coffee as she liked it and pointed at the closest table. “I want to talk to you about this week’s numbers, anyway. So just wait for me there, and I’ll be done as quickly as I can.”

  She frowned at him but said, “Sure, I guess we can discuss work over a drink.”

  Marshall turned around before she caught him grinning like an idiot. He didn’t make it past Claudette, though, or Dylan.

  The former simply laughed and shook her head. Dylan, on the other hand, gave him an appraising glance. “You okay, man?”