More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (2 page)

Hoping for some earth-shattering new information that would instantly launch his career into the stratosphere, he read three posts, focusing and concentrating to decipher them properly. Even so, none grabbed his attention enough to read any further. Conflict. It seemed so easy to manufacture in his mind, right up to the point that he had to execute it on the page. Reaching up, he scratched his eyebrow. How could one person be so blocked? This part at least used to be easy. When he’d first started writing, the stories poured out of him— garbled to be sure, but at least he got them down. Now, even getting the words out was like extracting teeth from a giraffe— difficult and ultimately probably pointless.

Looking at his watch, Jake clicked back to his manuscript. He really needed to get something written; he’d already wasted over two hours. With a small pull forward, he took a sip of the now cold coffee, set the cup down, and pursed his lips, trying to find a good place to attack the story. His gaze slid across the words that swam before him. Five a.m. was starting to overtake him. But he still had an hour to get something written, and he really needed to get something down. Something so he wouldn’t feel like a complete failure… again.

“Okay. Jasmine, we’ve got to get you to your next big life scare. How do we do that?”

The after-the-movie crowd began trickling in sometime after nine-thirty. Thankfully, Liz had gotten most of her Literature 3402 assignment for the next morning read. That was a feat not even dared hope for.

“Two please,” the lady said, and Liz smiled as she grabbed up the little menus and headed for the chairs.

“Right this way.”

Other people were starting to show up. That meant it was about time for him to leave. Jake looked at his watch, surprised that so much time could have evaporated with so little to show for it. “One hundred more words, McCoy. What real writer can’t crank out 100 more words in half an hour?”

He didn’t want to admit where that question led, so he didn’t. He wasn’t a real writer yet, but he would be.

Liz grabbed the coffee pot up, knowing in less than ten minutes she wouldn’t get another chance to visit his table. Mia gave her a look as she crossed past the counter and headed for the little, dark corner, but Liz chose to ignore it. This was her job after all, and she needed that two dollar tip. “Getting a lot done?”

His light gray-blue eyes jerked up to her, and she had the distinct impression that she had just scared him to death.

“Sorry.” She smiled and lifted the little glass pot in her hand. “Refill?”

He looked completely flustered as his gaze dropped from her to his cup. “Oh. I don’t… Um. I’m probably good for tonight. But thank you though.”

Her smile turned from real to deliberate. “Just thought I’d check.”

The floor seemed to hold her there. She should leave. She knew she should. Why wasn’t she leaving?

When Jake’s radar said that she hadn’t moved, he gathered his scattering courage and glanced up at her again. “Is it closing time? Do I need to leave?”

“What? Oh. No. No, not at all. Sorry.” She reached up and brushed a dark highlight from her eyes as she set the coffee pot on his table. “Stay as long as you like.”

Questions went through him as he looked at her, some had to do with the hour, some had nothing at all to do with that. She was even more stunning close up. He wished that wasn’t quite so noticeable.

“We’re open until eleven. You’re welcome to stay to then.”

What was she doing? She sounded like an absolute idiot. It had something to do with those ice-blue eyes that had locked on her and stopped her breath cold. Her neck felt like the air temperature had been set on scalding, and her heart was hammering a rap beat she’d never heard before. “I’ll just…” With a shake of her head to break the trance, she jerked her thumb back over her shoulder and then scratched her fingernail into her head. “…let you get back to your work.”

He nodded as an amused question slid over his face. “My work.” The laugh was soft and hollow. “That’d be good.”

“Yeah.” It took another nod and a push for Liz to get her feet to turn. She stumbled back to the counter, knowing he was still watching her, feeling it. She fought not to smooth everything about herself, but it was difficult. Everything felt hopelessly exposed and judged.

“Girl?” Mia asked when she made it all the way across the room, still in the trance his eyes had captured her in. “You all right?”

“Wh…? Y-yeah.” With a wave of her hand, Liz finally managed to snap out of it. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mia looked less than convinced. “Because you left the coffee pot on his table?”

“I…”  Liz looked down at her empty hands, and horror coursed through her. She slammed her eyes closed, mortified at her stupidity. When she opened them, Mia’s expression was somewhere between incredulous and about to burst out laughing. Liz scrunched her teeth together. “I have to go get it, don’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda so.”

“Great.” It took a hard sigh for her to gather her shredded dignity and turn back for his table, forcing nonchalance over everything else. Sure enough he was still looking at her, but this time the amusement in his eyes was much closer to the surface. A slow step at a time she made her way through the other tables back over to his.

“Looks like you forgot something.”

“Yeah.” She breathed the word. “Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem.”

Her hand slipped onto the small plastic handle. “Wouldn’t be much of a coffee shop without the coffee.”

“No. Probably not.” He was about to laugh at her, she could tell.

How could she have been so utterly stupid? She wanted to disappear into the floor.

“You know, since you’re here and everything.” His fingers played with the cup and then turned it and pushed it over to her. “I guess I could use a little more.”

“Really?” Relief poured through her. Somehow it felt like he was swinging in to rescue her, saving her from her own stupidity at the last possible second. Just why she couldn’t say because it really wasn’t so much to be excited about. He just wanted more coffee. “Okay.” She smiled at him in thanks for his chivalry as she poured. When the cup was full, she searched frantically for more words. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I mean, you must be starving by now. Man can’t exist on coffee alone, you know.”

The amused smile made it all the way from his eyes to his lips this time. They were nice lips, framed just so by a line of dark whiskers. “Hey, that’s a good line. Mind if I use that sometime?”

Surprise overtook her, and she tilted her head. “No. Not at all. I’ll give you that one for free, but the next one you have to pay for.”

“Free, huh?” He nodded as if considering the offer as he took a small sip of his refill. “Free is good.”

Then she thought he might have gotten the wrong idea. “Um, but you still have to pay for the coffee.”

His laugh caught her completely off-guard. “Rats. And here I was hoping you were giving that away for free too.”

Unbelievably, she was starting to relax. “Nope, no such luck. I’d probably get fired if I did that.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He pulled his arm down and surveyed his watch. It was nothing special, heavy, black. Very manly, but not very stylish.

She yanked her gaze from it when he looked back up at her.

“I’d really better be getting.” He took one more long drink and stood from the little chair. “I’ve got a five o’clock appointment with life in the morning.” With a snap, he had his laptop up under his arm.

Incredulousness hit her. “Five in the morning? And you’re drinking coffee at ten? What are you, a raccoon?”

He tossed money onto the table. “It was worth it for the company.” The smile danced around the corners of his eyes. “Besides, I got a great line for free, remember?”

“Oh, y-yeah.” Why did she suddenly feel like she was two? He seemed so together, so handsome standing there. She’d never really noticed that before. How could she have missed it? “Well, use it wisely.”

One more smile that made her crazy all the way to her toes, and he nodded. “I’ll try. See ya down the road.”

“Yeah.” She hardly got the word out, and then she was watching him walk out, waving only once to Mia as he went past the counter. In the next second he was gone, and Liz was left with only the memory.

It took three more breaths to snap back to reality. Trying to act like it was no big deal that he had just shattered her belief that all guys were scum, she turned and gathered the money and his cup. She needed to get this table cleaned as more people were starting to come in. The late movie must be over.

“Girl,” Mia said, dragging the single syllable out to six when Liz came back to the counter.

“Don’t start.” Liz pointed a hard finger at her friend. “He’s not my type. He’s weird, and he sits in dark corners and tries to blend in with the shadows.”

“My, my, if I didn’t know better, I would think the lady doth protesteth too much.”

“Protesteth? Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m not the Shakespeare queen. You are.” Mia leaned into her. “But I do know a fine specimen of man when I see one.”

Liz grabbed up menus as a small group came in. She rolled her eyes at her friend. “Spare me the dramatics, okay? We’ve got coffee to serve.”

Picking her hands up to indicate she wanted no fight, Mia backed down. That wasn’t like Mia, and Liz wondered about that. However, she had other more pressing matters like customers and homework and sleep that were much more important that fighting about some guy that was only a passing shadow and no more. It wasn’t even that hard to convince herself she had already forgotten all about him.

Jake wasn’t quite so lucky. He thought about the waitress the whole walk home. Liz. He’d caught the name on her little tag though he had told himself he wouldn’t even remember it. However, those three little letters filled his whole awareness as he made his way down the sidewalk illuminated by the neon of the New York nightlife. The streets around him were filled as only New York streets could be on a Tuesday night. His steps took him right past the old movie theatre that some historical group had recently refurbished. He had wanted to go in and see it since it had reopened, but he’d never quite gotten up enough reasons to convince himself to actually go up and purchase a ticket. There were other, far more important things to do than wasting a couple hours just to see an old building. Besides, he didn’t have anyone to go with, and going alone was just pathetic.

He jammed his fist into the pocket of his cargo pants as his thoughts traced back to the waitress again. He smiled to himself remembering her leaving the coffee pot on his table. That was so random. She’d never seemed that scattered before. Not that he had ever really made a study of her or anything. Just from what he remembered on his other writing trips to the little coffee shop.

His heart fell at the thought of how much he hadn’t gotten done on his book. Again. The goal had been to have it finished by now, finished, edited, critiqued, and sent off to an agent actually. How he’d gotten so very far off schedule, he couldn’t clear account for, but it made him feel like a complete failure just the same. Unfortunately, failure was something he knew a lot about.

Part of the problem was that he couldn’t find a good place to write. Home was horrible. Out was even worse. No place was right. Too bright. Not bright enough. Too loud. Too quiet. He climbed the outside stairs that were just down the little alley of his building. It wasn’t the normal entrance, but it was faster. Considering he was pushing six hours of sleep the way it was, he needed every minute he could spare. A story up, he ducked into the door swathed in darkness.

Going in that way had always made him feel like a super hero. The Invisible Man or something. Maybe he could write something about the invisible man. This door would make a great hook. Instantly his mind had the first scene of the new drama all worked out, complete with colors and setting and characters. Funny how his imagination could come up with the best ideas, right up to the point he started to put them into words on ether. Then they fled like a flock of startled birds. He hated that, but he hadn’t found a way around it yet, and he was beginning to think there wasn’t one.

“So you think Mystery Guy will come back tomorrow night?” Mia asked as they finished flipping the chairs up onto the tables after closing time.

“I don’t know. Why should I care?”

“You don’t?”

Liz had so wanted to feel nothing about him when the subject came up again. The problem was, she was a terrible actress. “No. Why should I? He’s just a guy who happens to like coffee.”

“Maybe he likes more than just the coffee. It was pretty clear
you
were thinking about more than coffee.”

“Stop it, Mi. Okay? I was just… I wasn’t myself tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind with mid-terms coming up and everything.”

“Mid-terms.” Mia nodded, knowingly. “Right.”

“I do.” Defensiveness plowed through her. “And I really need an A in Comparative Languages to have any shot at grad school.”

“Grad school.” Mia was still nodding. “Liz-bet, my girl, let me give you some advice. Them books can’t hold you on a cold night.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Mia. You know that, and I’ve got way too much riding on this semester. I don’t need the distraction. Besides, he probably thinks I’m a complete ditz by now anyway.”

“Ditzy ain’t so bad. Plenty of girls work that angle like a well-tuned Camaro.”

Horror overtook Liz. “Mia!”

“What? Look, I know, you’ve got that whole good-girl thing going on, but would it really kill you to… I don’t know… loosen up and live a little?”

“I live.”

“Studying and working every waking hour of every day is not living.”

“It’s called being focused, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“No, but being focused shouldn’t mean you miss everything else in life.”

“I’m not missing out on anything.” But the words burned her throat. There were things, if she was honest, that she had thought she would do when she came to New York. But that was before she realized partying wasn’t the wonderful, golden road she’d always thought it would be. “I’m perfectly happy with my life just the way it is.” She flipped up the last chair up as Mia headed for the broom. “Besides, I’ve only got one more semester and then grad school. There’ll be time for everything else later.”

“You know, I’m not one to give advice, but later has a way of turning into never if you’re not careful.”

The fact that he’d had way too much coffee became painfully obvious when the little digital clock on the TV tray next to his bed flipped to 12:00 with nary a moment of sleep in sight. Jake sighed and jerked the covers off his legs. He shouldn’t have had that last cup. Frustrated that whatever he wanted to do always turned into something his body or brain wouldn’t let him do, he got out of bed and padded through the doorway to what the landlord benignly referred to as a living area.

In reality it fit one chair, a small bean bag, and a TV the size of his two feet put together. He’d actually measured it once, with his shoes, just to be sure. That was during his bored-stiff stage a couple years before. “Good grief, McCoy. This really is pathetic.”

There had been a time he would have reached for something to put him to sleep. That time was not now. He sat down in the lumpy, bumpy milk chocolate colored chair and hit the television button just by leaning forward and found World War II playing on the History Channel. Probably he should have changed the channel, but he didn’t have the energy. In four hours, he would have to be up if he was to have any prayer of making it in to work on time, and he’d better be on time today. Many more late slips and he might well get a pink slip he really couldn’t afford.

The images on the television blended together as a heavenly haze lulled his schizophrenic mind into neutral. This was better. Much better. Grabbing the blanket he kept next to the chair just for these purposes, he curled up and drifted off to sleep.

By Friday evening as she walked to the coffee shop for the second time that day, Liz had convinced herself that he wasn’t coming back. Her antics on Tuesday had surely convinced him she had mental problems. She didn’t blame him. Really. She would have found a different place to be too.

She yanked the door open as anger and frustration with herself overran their banks. Why should she even care that he wasn’t coming back? He was just some guy she didn’t even know, and really probably didn’t even want to know. Plus, she didn’t care one way or the other if she ever saw him again. “I’m here.”

“Hey, girl,” Mia said as Liz went to the back to ditch her things and came back out front, putting on her apron. “Our visitor is back.”

Life slammed to a stop as Liz’s gaze jerked to the corner before she could think to not let it. Her heart yanked up like a galloping horse reined in. The shaking that emanated from the center of her radiated out to her hands. The ties of the apron went skittering away from her as she fought to get her nerves back together. Words. There were words somewhere in her brain. Somewhere. But where had they all gone?

“He’s been here about thirty minutes,” Mia said, analyzing her friend carefully. “I haven’t gone over there with more.”

The shaking was affecting her heart rate, but she did finally get the apron tied. “Oh, yeah? Why not?”

“Why not. Because I was waiting for you. That’s why not.”

“Me?” The protest came out in a squeak. “He’s a customer, Mia. You’re a waitress. You’re not supposed to let him sit over there with no service.”

“Yeah, but I thought it would be so much more fun to watch you make a fool of yourself again.”

That snapped away some of the trance. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” Mia pushed her to the coffee pot. “Go over there. I’m sure he needs a refill by now.”

Liz didn’t like being pushed except that she would never have had the guts to do it otherwise. She was careful to get the coffee pot stable into her hand and to check herself once, smoothing not only her clothes but her nerves as well.
He’s just a guy, Liz. Don’t get all fried. He’s just a guy.
On the way to his table, she did a little more categorizing of him than she had ever allowed herself to do before. Under the black coat was a cobalt blue sweater, and she had it in her mind exactly the way his eyes would look with it one second before he looked up and confirmed it.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought there was a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Would you like some more?”

“Sure.” He pushed his cup across to her.

She filled the cup, willing her nerves not to drop the coffee pot. Her imagination could hear it shattering, see the coffee spilling everywhere amidst the slivers of glass as if it was really happening. She could almost hear it as it shattered.
Get a grip, Liz. Get a grip.
Somehow she looked at him without the nerves taking over. “Would you like anything else? A bagel? A Danish? A scone?”

His eyebrows arched. “A scone? Seriously?”

A shrug that she hoped looked nonchalant accompanied the small smile she got past the hammering of her heart. “Every third Friday the bakery sends some over. I know. It’s very Old English and everything. Too bad we don’t serve tea with it, and crumpets too. That would be good.”
Gah!  Stop talking, Liz!  He’s going to think you’re an idiot.

“I’ve never had a scone before.” He took a sip of the coffee and set the cup down.

Did that mean he wanted one, or was he just making small talk? In a normal situation she would know the answer to that. “They’re really kind of good. Different. They aren’t really like a donut more like bread.”

That slightly amused look was back on his face. “Do you have cinnamon?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so. Some of them, but not all of them. We have blueberry ones too if you want that.”

He sat for a long minute, considering. “Okay. That sounds good.”

She was a second from saying
Really
because she was so excited, but she jerked that back. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes at his own inability to make a decision and make it stick. First it was the decision to not come back in here. That had lasted all of two nights until he just couldn’t stand it any longer. Then it was how happy he’d told himself he was when he got here and she wasn’t working. That lasted all the way until she walked through the door, high ponytail swept up and away from the face that had been floating around in his dreams for two days.

He ran his hand down his face, frustrated by his lack of discipline. It was bad enough that he hadn’t gotten more than two pages done in the last three days. Now here he was wasting even more time practically stalking a woman he didn’t even know. He angled his gaze down to his computer screen, seriously questioning his sanity. A click at a time, he scrolled through what he had. It amounted to 25 pages of crap and not much else.

Even he was finding it hard to care if Jasmine lived or died, and that couldn’t bode well for his future readers. He scratched at his sideburn, trying to form a conclusion about what to do with this manuscript that was obviously going nowhere. Should he just trash it altogether? That seemed the logical thing to do. Maybe he should just give up the whole idea of writing and resign himself to the drudgery of the warehouse and life such that it wasn’t beyond that.

“One blueberry scone, nice and hot.” She laid the plate in front of him, and his first thought was how wonderful it smelled. When he looked up, she smiled with a glint of challenge in her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of heating it up a little. It’s been in there since this morning.”

She had a way of making it sound wonderful and awful at the same time.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sure it will be great.”

“Great.” And it took her another three seconds to move from the spot. When she was gone, Jake couldn’t help but follow her movement across the shop. He wondered how she did that, moving like her feet weren’t even in contact with the ground. She was this weird dichotomy of grace and anxiety all rolled up into one. Careful not to burn himself like he had with the coffee the other day, he picked up a small bite of the scone and popped it into his mouth. It was very good, much better than the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d scarfed down before coming. He took another bite and another as blessed peace settled into him.

Hunger now tamed, his gaze burrowed into the book on his screen. He could do this. It was what he was meant to do with his life. That feeling of sureness despite all the doubts overwhelmed everything else and he got back to work.

The craziness of Friday night at The Grind took over Liz’s life. Date nights that might go somewhere but started there, other dates that ended there because the couples didn’t want their time together to end just yet. She liked watching them, the couples. She had always liked making up their stories in her mind as she waited on them.