Addi Merrick had spent her life waiting for him to show up, or so it seemed. For months he’d come in every day The Bean was open. Mr. Dependable. Not that he’d ever really noticed her. Oh, he requested she make his coffee, but he never talked to her beyond a hello and a thank you. He only had eyes for her boss, Kaylie.
Addi froze in her spot by the table where she watched for him. The gray cement floor gleamed with a polish that accented the rustic, rough wood walls and booths of The Bean on Main. Two of the corners boasted comfortable seating arrangements, and one corner even had a fireplace, not that they usually needed it in Texas. Her spot created the perfect vantage point to watch him come around the corner and into the little shop he used as his morning office.
Perfectly on time, he swept inside with a burst of cool Texas winter air, the scent of cloves, and a smile… directed at her boss. Kaylie gave him a face that resembled a baby tasting peas for the first time, then turned her attention to Addi, giving her the I’m going to be in back look. She shoved away from her spot at the till and rushed through the swinging door to the small storage area and lounge at the back of the coffee shop.
Drew set his laptop at his usual window booth, then hung his front-zip sweater on the peg she’d come to think of as his. Tall and lanky, he never seemed to put forth much effort in reaching for anything. He was always the same, yet took her breath away every single day.
“Can I get you your usual, Drew?” She ventured from her spot across the room where she’d been wiping off a perfectly clean table. It hadn’t even been used yet that day, but he wouldn’t know that. Always kind and warm, he treated her nicely, just not with any affection or even friendliness. She could feel his lack of interest with every interaction. It didn’t stop her from hoping. One day he might just notice her.
“Sure, thanks. Must have been Kaylie’s break time? Guess I’m later than I thought.” He strode back over to his seat, his fitted maroon, button-down shirt hugging his frame. The sun shone through the window, gleaming on his dark hair and beard for just a moment as he settled into his spot.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t actually Kaylie’s break, but she couldn’t tell a customer, especially not this customer, that her boss would rather have her teeth pulled than to socialize with him. “She had a long morning, so she took her break a little early. But I’m happy to help you.” If she made her voice sound chipper, she might force her mood in that direction. It wasn’t fair. She was always the buddy, the friend, the confidante, never the girlfriend. Never the main attraction. Sidekick syndrome, all the way.
He nodded and didn’t give her another glance that she could see. He soon opened his computer and clicked various keys, happily ignoring her.
Addi made his coffee—which wasn’t even on their menu—a straight-up black coffee with a hint of mint, and brought it over to his table. He gently removed the lid she’d just put on it and took a deep sniff, closing his eyes. “I needed this, thanks. Now, time to work.” He opened his eyes long enough to hit her with their deep-blue depths, then flicked his attention back to his laptop, her cue to leave.
She took one step back, then another, her face getting hotter by the second. Why couldn’t she act like a normal person around Drew? “I’m, um, just going to be in the back for a minute. If you need anything—,” She tripped over her own foot and gasped. “Bye.”
He flicked her a glance as she spun and raced from the room. The swinging door hit her in the rear as she made her escape. “If you need anything— Bye?” she mumbled. “I’m so stupid.”
Kaylie rolled her eyes. “Why do you let yourself get so flustered over him? It’s just Drew. He’s more annoying than anything.” She crossed her arms and legs in an abrupt movement from where she sat on the checkered couch she’d picked up from Goodwill.
Addi flinched at Kaylie’s assessment. “Says you. You go out all the time. I never do.” Though her hands weren’t dirty, she wiped them on the towel hanging near the washstand by the door. Drew always made her so nervous her palms got sweaty.
“Yeah, says me. He’s asked me out twice because the first no wasn’t enough.” Kaylie’s head slid back and forth to accent every word, and each one lodged deeper in Addi’s wounded heart.
“Good for you. He’s a nice guy. You don’t need to be mean.” Not to Drew, or her.
“I’m not. I’ve got someone. I don’t need him asking me out all the time. It’s weird. Is he coming in here every day to stalk me or something?”
Addi had hoped she was part of the reason he kept coming in, but it couldn’t be true. He rarely gave her a second glance and never really talked to her. Certainly not like he tried to engage Kaylie. “I really don’t think he’s the stalker type. He looks more metro bus than van by the river.”
Kaylie rolled her eyes again. “If you like him so much, you go out there. Make yourself available. Wouldn’t hurt to get your hair done or maybe wear some makeup.” She gestured to Addi’s leggings and belted shirtdress, then sighed. “Never mind. You probably wouldn’t even know what to look for. I’ll be back in for the lunch rush. You’ve got the floor. I’m going home.” She stood, flung off her apron and tossed it on the couch, then grabbed her purse. “He needs to find a new coffee shop. Seriously.”
If he did, Addi would never see him again. Even though he didn’t care for her, she cared about him and wanted to know him more. She’d lose that chance. “But he likes this one. We cater to him.” Addi bit her lip, but the words couldn’t be taken back.
Kaylie’s eyes lit up, and she gave her first genuine smile since Drew had walked in. “Perfect. I’ll stop ordering the mint, and he’ll stop coming in. Problem solved.” She swung out the back door and let it slam.
* * *
Drew Tanner stared at his screen and tried to type up a proposal for a new client. He was a freelance marketing consultant, and The Bean on Main provided a perfect place to get work done. Finding new ways for businesses to interact with the public and attract attention was his specialty, but not when he couldn’t focus.
Kaylie had intentionally avoided him since he’d asked her out for the second time the week before. He hadn’t even planned to do it, but she’d been smiley for a change, joking with him. It had just come out. Kaylie’s coworker, Addi, had looked mortified, but not as much as Kaylie herself. He didn’t stand a chance. She acted and looked so different from the last woman he’d dated, so out of his league. Different from the woman who walked away. That had to make her better, more his type, didn’t it?
The door swung open, and he hoped to see Kaylie coming off her break, but Addi came through instead. He sighed, unable to contain it. Addi was nice but too soft-spoken, too girl-next-door, too much like Lauren. So, she had to be wrong for him. Wrong in every way. Sometimes, he couldn’t even stand to look at her, because she acted too much like what he’d lost.
Addi had soft, brown hair that she always tied back in a tail with the end stuck in the ponytail holder to form a loop. Her casual clothes always fit nicely but didn’t scream for attention. In fact, none of her screamed for attention. He jumped as she slid into the booth across from him. He hadn’t even seen her coming, and she’d never done anything like that before.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” Her warm, brown eyes smiled at him, yet her face remained placid as usual.
He glanced down at his coffee, still full and steaming. “I’m good. Thanks.” She seemed nervous, but she had no reason to be. “Is everything all right?” He’d never seen her sit with patrons and definitely not him. He’d done his best to keep her just the barista who made the perfect coffee. Sliding into his booth was too much like a friend, and that’s just how Lauren had started.
Addi rubbed her arms against the cool air seeping through the nearby window. “Yeah, I’m just not used to handling the whole shop alone. Kaylie had to run some errands and won’t be back for a few hours.”
He always hoped to get a word or two with Kaylie, but that wouldn’t happen if she’d left. He often only stayed until lunch, so he didn’t take up a table during their rush. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He closed his laptop. He had no reason to stay if he couldn’t see her.
“You’re leaving?” Addi’s eyes widened. “But you never leave this early.”
He popped the lid back onto his coffee, surprised she kept track of when he usually left. “Well, I really do hate the quiet of my apartment, but even your shop is a little too quiet for my taste today.”
She drummed her fingers on the table and searched out the window, then gazed at him, not that it lingered. “You doing anything for Christmas?”
He had half a mind to lie and tell her he didn’t believe in Christmas, but that would be mean, and she’d never been anything but kind to him. Just like Lauren, right up until she walked out of his life, leaving him to explain to their wedding guests why there would be no wedding. He swallowed the memory back. One day he’d even throw out the suit he’d bought for that day. No other man he knew bought a suit for their wedding, but he had because he and Lauren had planned to renew their vows every five years and try to do as many of those in the same clothes as possible.
“I,” He paused to consider his words, “don’t really celebrate.” He slipped his laptop into its case and stood to get his sweater. He turned to avoid Addi’s brown-eyed stare as he slid his arms into his sleeves. Small talk wouldn’t get his proposal written. He shouldn’t feel like a jerk for leaving a coffee shop, but he did. Addi might be exactly like Lauren, or nothing at all like her, but he wasn’t willing to find out.
“Well, see you tomorrow, then.” She wiped down his table, though he’d left nothing on it, and turned to head to the till.
He followed as he pulled out his wallet. Coffee every day, a luxury he couldn’t live without. He handed her the money and waited for her to make change, then dropped a few coins in the tip jar. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine on your own.”
Her jaw stiffened slightly, and she nodded. “I’ve managed so far.”
It struck him as the first thing they had in common; so far, he’d managed just fine alone, too.
