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Back at Slow Pour there was a decent crowd for early afternoon on a weekend. Chris would like to think the small changes she’d made to the shop—with Eva’s permission, of course—had helped business. She’d drastically reduced the number of non-food-related items for sale, retaining only those with local ties or that sported the shop’s logo. In addition, she’d toned down the decor, removing some of the more brightly colored art pieces and several photos of her and Eva as kids at coffee plantations they’d visited with their coffee-scientist father. The result was a classier feel with better feng shui and more room for tables, as well as improved curb appeal to lure in people who were just driving through town.
Of course, she’d left the surfboard menu hanging over the counter. Chris wasn’t going to mess with something so sacred.
“You’re here early.” Summer beamed at Chris, looking radiant as usual, her teeth stunningly white, skin flawless and golden-blond hair a wavy mane she wore pulled back into a ponytail—the quintessential California girl. She was also, as Chris had found out, extremely smart and totally reliable. Plus she pulled one hell of a shot of espresso.
“I know.” Chris went behind the counter and headed toward the back office. “I thought I’d give you a whole two hours of paid vacation this afternoon.”
“Wow, really?” Summer’s light brown eyes lit up. “That would be great.”
“Yeah?” Chris grabbed her blue-and-white Slow Pour apron from the row of hooks outside her office. “You have fun plans?”
“Oh, no, not really. It’s just nice to get extra time off.”
Chris nodded, wondering why such a pleasant and attractive woman seemed to have no social life—at least, none she ever spoke of. Chris should give her time off more often. It was such a small thing, and spreading happiness and good vibes was rewarding for all concerned. “You’re welcome. Enjoy the time.”
A few customers came in as Summer was leaving, which kept Chris busy for a while, after which she had time to stand back and soak in the atmosphere. Old Chris would have been studying sales reports, worrying about how to improve business, brainstorming new blends, drinks and special bakery items. Now she just wanted to reflect on what she and her sister had created here, and bask in how the café was bringing so much pleasure to its customers and to the community.
A familiar figure caught her eye, winding through the outside tables, heading for the shop’s front door.
Zac Arnette.
Chris’s heart sped up and her breath hitched. Immediately she relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes as she took a long, healing breath. Zac had been away for a long time and now he was back. There was no reason for her to be anxious.
Zac was one of Eva’s best friends—in fact, they’d had a half-serious pact to get married if neither of them found anyone else by the time they turned thirty—but she personally found him overbearing and bossy and, at times, infuriatingly smug. He’d get an amused look on his face, as if he loved that she was struggling, loved that he’d gotten to her. It made her so—
Ahem.
Not to be blaming him for who he was, of course. She accepted that. She accepted her physical reaction to him, didn’t fight it, didn’t blame herself for it, even though she didn’t really understand why she reacted the way she did.
“Hello.” She smiled peacefully, aware of a few butterflies still trying to wreak havoc in her belly.
“Hello, Chris.” His blue eyes were warm and the butterflies started fluttering harder. Which was perfectly natural. Zac was a very handsome man. Too surfer blond for her taste—she liked dark East Coast guys with high energy and sharp edges—but...yes, very handsome. He looked a little like the guy who played Thor in the movies, but more real, less model perfect. Very, very handsome.
“You’ve been away awhile.” To her surprise, her tone was tinged with bitterness. Immediately she smiled more brilliantly to take away any impression that she cared that he’d disappeared for months without saying a word to her, although he’d filled Eva in extensively and often on the reason for and progress of his trip.
Which was fine. This wasn’t a competition. He had every right to do whatever he wanted. Chris accepted that.
“Family stuff.” He came right up to the counter. She’d forgotten how big he was. In her mind, Zac had shrunk to a size that wasn’t quite so intimidating. Her lungs were having a little trouble working again, and her heart refused to conform to the peaceful pace she strove to maintain.
Argh! Why did he have to—
No, wait, she accepted her own part in this.
“My younger brother, Luke, got into some trouble. I flew east to help him out and brought him back home with me for a while. Why, did you miss me?”
“Oh. No. I don’t—” She felt her face flaming. Her jaw clenched. She wanted to smack him. Three months of inner peace shot to hell in two minutes. Thanks, Zac.
No, no, no. She wouldn’t assign blame. Inner peace was her own responsibility. “I noticed you were gone. Does that count?”
“Sure.” He looked smug. Smug! She knew he would. And it made her want to smack him harder. “You changed your hair.”
“I did.” That morning she’d put on a short asymmetrical wig, which she particularly loved because it took her out of her comfort zone, made her look a bit wilder and more unpredictable and helped make her feel that way, too. But with Zac looking at her much too carefully, she only felt exposed as a fake.
So? She wasn’t one. Just a beginner at unearthing new feelings and new parts of herself. This was all part of her transformation, freeing herself to explore new potentials. She’d spent too long watching other people really live while she stood sensibly on the sidelines, held there by the weight of her parents’ values and expectations.
She refused to care whether Zac liked the new look or not. In fact, she’d let him think it was permanent.
“Nice,” spoken with no enthusiasm, still studying her. “Something else has changed about—”
“What can I get you?” She wanted to remind him that their relationship was customer and barista, and he had no place giving opinions on her appearance.
No, wait. He did. He had that right, and she accepted it.
Oh, man. She needed to get back to her cliff.
“How about a tall French roast and...” His blue gaze faltered, then focused on her with renewed intensity, unsettling her further. “And the chance to spend time catching up with you.”
Chris blinked. Blinked again. She should be taking cleansing and healing breaths right now.
She wasn’t breathing at all.
Was Zac asking her out? No, no, he couldn’t be. He hadn’t mentioned a place or event. He just wanted to find out what she’d been doing while he was gone. Probably just being polite.
“Well.” She turned away to pour his coffee, finding it much easier not to look at him. “It’s not busy here now. We can talk.”
He didn’t answer. Chris turned back, holding out his mug. His eyes pinned her. She felt as if she’d suddenly started moving in slow motion. “Actually, Chris, I meant I’d like to have dinner sometime.”
Dinner sometime?
“I...we...you...”
He chuckled—of course he did, her discomfort always amused him, the rat—and took the coffee out of her hands. “Think about it.”
Chris stepped back, inhaled long and slow through her nose, blew out the tension between her lips, and relaxed her tongue and her shoulders as she’d learned to do. She was free to accept or reject his offer. She had power in this situation. And if he’d get the hell away from her, she could take some time to examine her feelings before she answered, as she’d also learned to do. “Thank you. That’s a very nice invitation.”
His eyebrow quirked. “Something’s different about you. Besides the hair.”
“Yes.” She did not owe him an explanation.
“Okay, then.” He shot her a grin and started toward his usual table, leaving Chris hopelessly trying to get her Zen back.
The door banged open, making her jump and Zac turn. A young, slightly familiar-looking man walked in. Chris glanced at Zac and then back. Was this his younger brother? He was darker than Zac, one eyebrow pierced with a silver ring, slender where Zac was built, light and quick in contrast to Zac’s powerful, deliberate movements, but there was some resemblance.
“So this is Slow Pour.” The newcomer made the announcement as if he was narrating a movie starring himself. A few patrons paused in midconversation to see who had interrupted the café’s peaceful vibe.
Zac suddenly looked wary and tired. Chris felt a pang of sympathy for him. Whatever trouble this kid had gotten into, it had been hard on his older brother.
The kid who must be Luke ambled toward her, eyes alight with mischief and energy. “And you are therefore Chris.”
“That’s me.” She spoke quietly, not sure what Zac had told him, or what role she’d be assigned in the Luke Arnette show.
“Zac, man, you didn’t tell me she was totally gorgeous.”
Chris suppressed a groan. Luke might look like his brother, but so far he was behaving exactly the opposite. Point in Zac’s favor.
“Didn’t I?” Zac shrugged mildly. “Guess I forgot.”
“Can I get you some coffee? Tea? Suja Juice?” Chris stretched tall, centering herself, trying to radiate kindness and acceptance, and coming up with an attitude closer to dismay. Darn it. She’d thought she was more thoroughly grounded in her new self. Obviously she still had work to do. “Or would you like something else?”
“How about a date?”
Argh, she’d walked right into that one. “How about coffee?”
“You want to have coffee with me? That’d be okay.” He winked at her. Winked! “Though I was hoping for dinner sometime.”
Gee, where had she just heard that phrase?
“Luke, dude, back off.” Zac shook his head.
“What, am I poaching on your turf?”
Zac’s snorted. “Poaching on my turf? Who says things like that?”
Luke’s arrogance dropped as though it had been shattered with a hammer. “Gimme a break, man. This isn’t my world.”
“So? Just be your own effed-up and charming self.” Zac smacked Luke’s shoulder, grinning wryly. “You’ll get a lot further with the babes that way.”
Chris snorted. “Further with the babes? Who says things like that?”
Zac jerked his thumb. “He does.”
“Let me check this out with Chris.” Luke stepped forward, leaning against the counter, his blue eyes so like Zac’s that Chris had to force herself not to drop her gaze. “Would you like me better if I wasn’t trying so hard?”
“Yes. But only about a thousand percent.”
“Okay.” He opened those eyes puppy wide, his voice rising a few notches. “Will you go out with me? I’ll admit I have an arrest record. I beat someone up. He deserved it, though.”
“Why don’t you start by ordering something?”
“Sure.” He scanned the menu written on the surfboard hanging over her head. His lashes were long and dark, eyes shadowed. Some of his mania must be coming from fear and insecurity. She would cut him a break and be kind, though frankly, she wished both Arnette brothers would get out of her store. Life had been so peaceful without Zac around. Though she supposed it was good to realize how far she still had to go before she could confidently return to New York. Her transformation wasn’t worth much if she fell back into her old ways every time something stressful happened.
Luke ordered a mocha latte, which she made with whole milk, and she added a free oatmeal flaxseed raisin cookie to welcome him to Carmia, because he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He and Zac took their coffees over to Zac’s regular table while Chris tried to get back to a state of calm, which proved futile because there was a constant buzz inside her, reminding her of Zac’s looming presence.
She wanted to ask him if he’d been accepted into any engineering doctoral programs yet, though Eva probably would have said something if he had. He’d taken a leave from his engineering job at a firm in San Luis Obispo to deal with Luke. Obviously the company he worked for valued him a lot if he was able to come and go like that. Apparently he’d worked at the same company through his master’s program at Cal Poly, as well. She was curious what his life had been like growing up in Connecticut, and whether Luke had always been a troublemaker and whether—
Stop. Chris yanked her mind back to the present where it belonged, pulled a couple of shots of espresso for a husband and wife biking through Carmia on their way down the coast, and packed up some whole-grain fruit bars for them to take with them.
Another few customers straggled in. She served them cinnamon-flavored organic brown-rice pudding and lattes made with almond milk, glad the place was busy so she could work on pretending Zac wasn’t there.
During the next quiet moment, she was about to head back to check on the bathrooms when the front door swished open again.
“I have arrived, victorious!”
Chris swung around, already smiling. Another familiar face had returned. With his tousled dark hair and blue eyes, Gus Banyon was the sexiest surfer dude of all time—except, perhaps, for his equally gorgeous friend Bodie, who had ten more years and twenty more pounds of solid man muscle on him. “Hey, Gus. Welcome back!”
“Whoa, you cut off all your hair. Why’d you do that?” Gus didn’t look any more pleased with her new do than Zac had been. And was even less polite about it.
“It was time for a change. So what did you win this time?” Gus had spent the past few months competing in surfing competitions across the country.
“Better than a win, I got a sponsor!” He raised his muscled arms. “I am the dude!”
“Gus, that is great.” Chris couldn’t say she understood his world, but she was a little smarter about it than when she’d arrived in October. Having a sponsor meant money, which meant bigger and more important competitions, and, most important, it meant someone truly believed in Gus’s talent. “Congratulations! What can I get you? On the house. Suja Juice?”
“Oh, wow, you’re stocking that now?”
“I am.” She laughed at his shocked expression. “Your favorite.”
“Could I have a Berryoxidant?”
“Coming right up.”
“All right!” He lifted his hand for a high five and pulled it back at her withering look. She might have settled into the California vibe, but she was still not going to do that.
From the small refrigerator behind the counter, she pulled out a Berryoxidant and handed over the attractive red bottle.
“Thank you, my dudess.” Gus lifted the bottle reverently. “Apple, orange, strawberry, banana, raspberry, sour cherry, chia seed, flaxseed, baobab and camu camu. Score!”
She watched him chug half of it, then, without having a clue what he was talking about, listened patiently—well, mostly patiently, she was only human—to his description of the individual waves and how he’d handled them. From time to time she was aware of Zac glancing over in her direction. It was hard to block movement in one’s peripheral vision, right?
“So anyway, I’m back in town for a couple of weeks, and I was wondering...” He dropped his eyes to the counter. “Do you want to have dinner sometime?”
His voice must have carried because Zac and Luke stopped their conversation and turned. The color rushed to Chris’s cheeks. Fabulous. Month after month blush-free and now three times in one afternoon? What was in the air today? And what was with the phrase dinner sometime?
“Oh, Gus. That would be...” She wasn’t sure what it would be. Honestly, she’d gotten so used to her peaceful, carefree life that she hadn’t adequately planned for what she’d do when Gus came back. They’d gone out on one not-so-great date before he left, though she’d agreed to give him another chance.
But the idea of sitting across from him, listening to wave stories all night...
The door opened. Praying for a barrage of customers so she could get out of answering until she was able to choose the best answer from deep in her always-wise subconscious, Chris glanced over.
Oh, my Lord. Her chance to retrieve any calm out of the afternoon was officially gone.
A serious hunk of man filled the doorway, his hazel eyes meeting hers with such blatant sexuality that she felt a thrill all the way down to her...inner calm. Speak of the handsome devil, it was Bodie Banks, Gus’s fellow surfer and mentor. She hadn’t seen him for several weeks. He tended to stop in for coffee, smolder for a while and leave. But oh, that smoldering. He was amazing. In a low-down, predatory kind of way, but amazing nonetheless.
“Bodie! My man!” Gus went over, and oh-so predictably there was the skin-on-skin smack of a freaking high five. She wondered if she could give Gus a palmectomy so he couldn’t participate in the ridiculous ritual anymore.
Wait. Shh. Those uncharitable thoughts belonged to the old Chris. No living creatures were hurt by high fives; there was nothing wrong with it. Acceptance. Love. Kindness. She was badly off track.
“Hey.” Bodie prowled toward the counter, biceps and deltoids popping out of his sleeveless T-shirt, which hung loosely over a pair of bright blue patterned board shorts. “How’s it going, Chris?”
