String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) (4 page)

I didn’t know what
else to say, but I knew I felt like an idiot trying to flirt, so I decided to
cut my losses and find someplace to sit.

String Beans wasn’t
large like some of those corporate chains, but it was big enough that they had
their own merchandise. There was an array of clients that matched the eclectic
feel that relaxed me. A green and orange paisley couch in the center of the
store didn’t match the aqua blue recliner next to it. And neither of them
matched the yellow area rug that covered the worn wood floors that appeared to
be as old as the building itself.

I spotted a tiny
nook with an oversized purple chair and a small table, so I walked over and
dropped my things on the ottoman while I situated myself. I could hear the
conversations of the people around me, but I wasn’t interested enough to
eavesdrop because there were too many other things to catch my attention. Paintings
and sculptures hung from every wall with labels and price tags. Some were
better than those next to them, but then again, it was all subjective.

In my distraction,
my copy of
On the Road
fell out of my
bag, landing on the floor. The binding was worn and the pages were loose, but I’d
added more tape to salvage it for another read. It wasn’t like I couldn’t buy
another copy, but that one had been with me for so long it was like a part of
me. It was one of my favorite stories and I read it at least once a year.

I sat down and
turned to the folded edge to begin reading when Wyatt appeared with my coffee
and torte in hand.

“Thank you,” I said
kindly.

He set it on the
table next to the chair and I expected him to walk off, but he nudged my feet
aside and sat down on the edge of the ottoman.

“Yes?” I asked,
sitting up straighter in the chair.

“I didn’t say
anything.” He shrugged.

I didn’t know
whether to think the guy was adorable or strange, but he was walking a fine
line. He looked around at his customers and smiled as though he were doing a
mental survey or something, and I found myself staring at him. His chiseled
jaw, the stubble on his attractive face, the way his lips curved into a grin as
if he knew I was checking him out. I sighed and settled back into the chair,
determined to ignore the guy, but he was right there.

How can I ignore him?

Taking a quick sip
of my drink, I set it down and I read the first paragraph on the page in
silence. Apparently the words didn’t register because I had to reread it since
I had no idea what I’d read. My eyes scanned the page, but comprehension of the
words failed me. I glanced up at him again briefly and then back to the book.

“Does your boss
know you flirt with the customers?” I finally asked, keeping my eyes on the
words that meant nothing to me at the moment.

“Flirting? I’m on a
break and your feet happen to be resting in the place where I relax,” he said.

“Right, so if I were
a huge tatted guy, you’d be sitting here with me?” I asked, finally looking at
him and smiling.

He cocked his head
to the side and thought for a moment, looking adorable and yet irritating me at
the same time.

“But you’re not a
guy, are you? So it’s a moot point.”

“It’s not,” I said
exasperatedly. “Why don’t you say whatever it is you have to say?”

“Look…” He furrowed
his forehead and leaned toward me slightly. “Viola, was it? Can I call you Vi?”

“No, you can’t,” I
snorted. “Only my friends call me that,” I lied.

“Okay, cool. So
listen,
Vi
, I’m on my break, and
you’re making this very difficult for me to enjoy my
me time
.”

That time I laughed
outright and set my book down.

“You have got to be
kidding me. Can you just go away?” I finally huffed a humorless laugh, though
the whole thing
was
actually quite
amusing. “Or do I need to talk your boss?”

He exhaled loudly
before getting to his feet, leaving me confused. I grabbed my phone from my
purse and called Jolie without another thought.

“Please tell me you
left your apartment,” she groaned when she answered the phone.

“Success,” I
admitted. “I’m at the coffee shop now.”

“And?”

“And you’re an
asshole,” I laughed.

“That’s sweet of
you,” she snorted. “What did I do to deserve such a wonderful compliment?”

“You’re the one who
told me to come here, and I’ve already met the weirdest person.”

“Who is he?” she
asked excitedly. I could almost hear her salivating on the other end.

“Barista,” I
answered. It was quiet for a moment and then I started again. “He came over here
and just sat with me. He was quiet and weird and … oh shit.”

“Oh shit? What oh
shit? Are you okay?” she asked rapidly.

I didn’t respond to
Jolie because Wyatt was back in front of me, only he carried a business card in
his hand. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked from his face to his
hand and back.

“I understand that
you have a complaint about someone on my staff,” he said, leaning forward to
hand me the card. His playful smirk was challenging and cute at the same time
as I reached for the paper. He grasped it tightly between his fingers as I tugged
before he finally released it.

“Wyatt Jensen.
Owner,” I muttered aloud. “Of course you’re the owner.”

When I looked up,
his smile was still in place and he raised a brow. “At your service.”

“Very cute,” I
grinned.

“Thank you.” He
winked and must have taken my words to be a compliment as he sat down again.

“Whoa there,
cowboy… This whole thing was cute, but not gonna happen.”

“What do you think
is happening?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

His jaw clenched
and released as he raised a brow. It would have been easy to give in, but my
head and heart were still a mess…not that he was offering his heart.

“Listen, Wyatt, you’re
charming…really. But let’s just say that I’m not a fan of men at the moment.”

He studied me for a
moment as if deciding what to say, and when no words came, I dropped my
attention back to the book in my hand.

“Ah. I got ya. So
you speak fluent Lebanese,” he said.

I don’t know the
last time I laughed that hard, but his knowledge of chick-flick speak was
impressive.

“No. I don’t, but
after what I’ve been through…it doesn’t sound bad,” I answered through my
laugh. “My life’s a little crazy right now, and I’m currently of the mindset
that your gender is everything wrong with the world.”

He leaned forward
and smiled conspiratorially. “I can overlook crazy.”

“What?” I asked,
both shocked and impressed by his tenacity. “Okay, well you must be
certifiable…and I
don’t
overlook
crazy.”

“What’s your
definition of crazy?”

I pretended to
think and then lifted my hand at him. “You.”

He laughed, and
though I tried, I couldn’t hide my smile.

“I take it you’re
new here?”

“Wow, you are relentless,”
I chuckled. “Yes, Mr. Earp. I just moved in down the road—starting a
whole new life.”

“Earp?” he smiled.
“Never heard that one before.”

“I find that
surprising,” I quipped.

“Whole new life,
huh? Sounds fun,” he said without a hint of sarcasm.

I closed the book
on my lap and gave him my full attention. “How so?”

“Not sure what
you’re starting over for…but the way I see it, you get to make your own path,
do anything you want, and not have to answer to anyone. Can’t be all that bad.”

I mulled over his
statement, unsure if I agreed. Sure, I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I
wanted, but the circumstances that had brought me the newfound freedom weren’t
something I was celebrating. Before I could say anything, he tapped my knee
lightly and I looked at him again.

“So what do you
do?”

“I
teach…taught…music,” I said, missing my students. Alex understood my reasons
for leaving, though I knew I left him in a bit of a lurch.

“Then you should
come out. We have open
mic
night every week,” he said
as he stood up. “I mean, if you want an excuse to come here to see me.”

“These lines don’t
really work, do they?” I teased.

“Not sure. Is it
working now?”

“No such luck.”

He was too natural
in his delivery for it to be a first; still, a part of me liked his flirting.

Before he walked
away, he pointed to the book in my lap. “You could always join the book club.
They meet here twice a week.”

“I’m not big on
book clubs,” I shrugged. “But I’ll think about it.”

“Nice meeting you,
Viola. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

I was attempting to
read the book again when I heard a voice shouting, though it sounded muffled. I
started feeling around, trying to locate my phone and when I did, I lifted it
to my ear and laughed.

“Sorry, I forgot,”
I said.

“Yeah, yeah.
Whatever. That voice. Is he as cute as he sounds?” Jolie asked, forgiving me
for my memory lapse.

“Depends. How cute
did he sound?”

“Like he’d make a
great addition to my ex-boyfriend list.”

When my parents
heard about the divorce, I waited for the inevitable “I told you so,” but it
never came. They were surprisingly sensitive and supportive to my plight, and
though a part of me wished I’d listened to them when they’d argued against it,
I knew I’d never regret marrying Will.

It’s all a part of
discovering yourself, right?
Blah. Blah. Blah.

It was all
bullshit. Nothing about marrying and divorcing was a learning experience, other
than I learned that men were the spawn of the devil and no matter what, they
were put on this earth to completely and utterly destroy the opposite sex—
ME!

I was the epitome
of the bitter, jilted lover. That didn’t fit the woman I’d been, the dreamer,
the glass-half-full woman, the benefit-of-the-doubt girl. But in one day, my
outlook had changed and I’d morphed into someone I never expected—the
woman scorned.

Add to that, I was
having a hard time finding employment and I should have been wearing a sign
around my neck that read
Beware. Bitch
Bites!

I didn’t hate
everything and everyone…just those who had an extra appendage dangling…if they
were lucky…between their legs.

My landlord,
Bethany, was great and offered me some part-time work in her bookstore that was
on the first floor of the building. She used to own the whole building, until
bad investments had forced her and her husband to sell.

She bragged that he
was savvy enough to negotiate a deal where they would remain the landlords for
free, and in exchange they got to keep the bookstore downstairs for themselves.

Bethany was in her
late seventies, and did everything she could to take care of the tenants. In a few
short days, I’d grown fond of her and enjoyed listening to her stories about
what the neighborhood used to look like.

But as much as I
liked it, I needed to make more money and I was becoming desperate. I didn’t
want to dip into my savings for too long, but it had been almost three weeks
with no job prospects on the horizon.

I finished my evening
shift in the store and borrowed one of the books that Bethany recommended. I
was in the mood for coffee, and maybe even some music. It was open
mic
night and I had yet to check it out.

No time like the present.

It had become
routine for me to visit String Beans a few times a week. If Wyatt was there,
he’d make small talk and try to glean some new insight into my life. As
attractive and nice as he was, it was hard to tell if he was truly interested
or just a smooth talker, so I erred on the side of caution.

It was busier than I
was used to in the coffee shop, so I placed my order and walked to an open seat.
Emma, one of the waitresses I’d talked to a few times, brought my order over
and disappeared as the lights started to dim. I told myself not to look for
Wyatt, yet I found myself searching anyway.

A burly man that
looked more suited to a biker gang than a hippie coffee shop took the stage
with an old acoustic guitar in hand. There were hoots and hollers as he began
strumming, but
my
expectations
weren’t high.

Complete mistake.

I was blown away by
the voice that boomed from the man on stage. I found myself leaning forward,
completely immersed in his song. It was something familiar, a beautiful cover
of an otherwise crappy rap song. It was incredible.

When he finished,
the applause was well deserved and I was disappointed that he didn’t stick around
to sing more. As he exited the tiny corner stage, conversation filled the space
and I glanced at my phone to distract myself.

“Anyone sitting
here?” a deep voice asked, pulling my attention away from the device in my
hand. A man wearing jeans that were too tight and suspenders over a white shirt
with the sleeves rolled up smiled down at me. I did my best to stifle a laugh,
disguising it with a smile.

“Actually,” I looked
around and spotted Wyatt, offering a wave in his direction. He looked behind
him, probably surprised I’d made the first move, but then he noticed the
hipster in front of me and smirked.

He’s going to make this weird.

The guy standing in
front of me looked over his shoulder and saw Wyatt making his way over,
stepping aside when he was close enough. Nerves swarmed in the pit of my
stomach as he took the empty seat next to me and scooted closer, draping an arm
across the back of my chair.

“Hey
babe
,” he said, drawing out the word
before kissing my cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

He tucked a strand
of hair behind my ear and I kicked his foot under the table in response. A few
conversations and harmless flirting didn’t add up to us being close. But he
only chuckled softly when he looked at me. I raised a brow and pursed my lips,
knowing he wasn’t going to cut me any slack; and it seemed in that moment that
friends was something he was aiming for.

“Wyatt, this is my
friend,” I looked up at the stranger and smiled apologetically.

“Atticus,” he said,
extending his hand to Wyatt in greeting.

Of course your name is Atticus. Fitting.

Wyatt leaned
forward and accepted his hand, giving me space, but quickly resumed his
position next to me, wrapping his hand over my shoulder. “Care to join us?”
Wyatt asked.

Atticus looked
around, trying to locate a familiar face to save him… Hell,
I
wanted him to find someone so Wyatt’s
stupid game could be over.

“Sure you don’t
mind?” Atticus asked.

“Any friend of my
girl’s is a friend of mine,” Wyatt said.

Yeah, that was a
flutter.

As much as I wanted
to hate how he made me feel, I liked the flirting. And after everything I had
been through, the way Wyatt looked at me and the way he talked to me made me
feel something I couldn’t explain. While sometimes it made me uncomfortable
because I was still legally married, it also made me feel…wanted?

“So how do you know
Viola?” Wyatt asked, knowing that we had only met moments before.

Atticus smiled at
me and I quickly changed the subject.

“That last guy was
amazing.”

“Yeah, Bob performs
almost every week,” Wyatt said.

“Bob? A voice like
that belongs to a guy named Bob?” I asked through a laugh.

“What’s wrong with
Bob?” Wyatt asked.

“Nothing at all…I
just figured with all those tats and his intimidating build, he’d have a name
like Damien…or Ryder. Something dangerous and mysterious.”

Wyatt and Atticus
looked at me and laughed.

“Apparently you
have strong opinions about names,” Atticus said.

Just don’t ask me what I think of your name. Because then it will get
all awkward when I blurt out that it’s pretentious and probably a name you gave
yourself because your name is really Chris.

Before he could
ask, a woman walked on stage and cleared her throat as she began speaking. I
didn’t get a chance to catch what she was saying because my phone started to
ring in my hand. I glanced down and saw Dani’s face flash on my screen.

After Jolie, she
was the person I relied on the most. She helped me get to a better place when I
told her about Will and the affairs. She even offered to send her football
player boyfriend over to kick his ass. It was a tempting offer.

I looked at the
guys and excused myself.

“Hurry back, babe,”
Wyatt said and added a playful wink.

I narrowed my eyes
at him and I headed for the front door.

“You move to L.A.
and you never call anymore,” Dani said when I answered the phone.

“Well, you know I’m
just
so
busy now,” I joked as the
door shut behind me, leaving me on the somewhat quiet street.

“I still don’t
understand why you didn’t just move out here to San Diego.”

“Just my luck, I’d
move out there and then Tabor would be traded to somewhere on the East Coast.”

“Bite your tongue,”
she laughed. “Besides, he’s got at least another six months of rehab on his
leg.”

“He’s doing okay
though, right?”

“Yeah, he is. But
that’s not why I’m calling. How are
you
?
Really.”

“I’m doing better.
I don’t love it here yet, but I think as long as I was in Spring Park, I was
going to be miserable. Too many reminders.”

“I talked to Jolie
the other day. She mentioned she’s going out there to see you in a few weeks.”

“She was supposed
to visit, but then her ass of a boss said that she needed to reschedule.”

“Look, I promise
I’ll come out this summer.”

“What about your
program?”

“That’s what
volunteers are for. And since Tabor is involved, we have no shortage of those.
They can afford to do without me for a week or so.”

“I can’t wait,” I
squealed.

The door opened,
causing the bell to ding, and I stepped aside to give the stranger space.

“Where are you?”
she asked.

“Open
mic
night.”

“Are you going to
perform?” she asked excitedly.

“You know me better
than that.”

She paused, and I
knew Dani was choosing her words carefully. She always did.

“You know, someday
you’re going to get back up on stage again. I don’t care how big or small it
is.”

“I don’t know about
that,” I lamented.

It was a great
theory, and I loved the idea of performing again. There was a time when writing
my songs and singing them, even if only for my friends, had meant so much to
me. But school, and then work, had taken over and I had little time. And then
there was the part about me putting my dreams and interests on hold to help
Will achieve his. In hindsight, he never asked me to do it, but it had felt
like the right thing to do at the time.

“I do. Because I
know you. When you’re ready, it’ll happen.”

“You know, I looked
at my journal the other day. The last time I wrote anything significant was
almost a year ago.”

“A year?”

“Yeah,” I scoffed.
“I don’t know how that happened, but I suppose one day turned into months and
the next thing I know, it’s been a year. You’d think I would have noticed something
that big, right?”

“Vi, give yourself
a break. You’ve had a lot on your plate. And now, it’s time to take care of you.
And taking care of you means getting back to the things you love.”

I smiled at her
words because I needed to hear them.

“We’ll see,” I
said, loving her confidence that she was right. I hoped she was right.

“I better go… have
to get to Mom and Dad’s. But we’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Sounds good. Tell
them I said hi.”

“Will do.”

I stood outside
wishing I could see the stars overhead, but between the tall buildings and the
hazy sky, I’d have to wait another night. After a few minutes of standing
outside, I turned to go in and saw Atticus still sitting at the table, but
Wyatt was nowhere in sight. Still, I walked over and joined my new friend and
listened to the rest of the performers, enjoying some and disliking others.

But mostly, I felt
inspired. Listening to people as they poured their hearts out and exposed
themselves musically in front of strangers was something I hadn’t realized I
missed. Between Dani’s assurances that I’d be me again, and the talented
performers, hope began to run through my veins. And I couldn’t wait to get back
home and maybe put pen to paper.

***

It was nearly
eleven when Atticus left, and I ended up enjoying his company. He was studying
at some art college nearby and told me about his classes. I didn’t share much
about my own life, nor did he ask. It was a nice distraction.

There were only a
few people lingering and I decided to go back to my place and get some sleep.
Or try to read until I fell asleep.

I didn’t see Wyatt
the rest of the night, though I did actually look for him a time or two. I
tried to fight it and ignore that he existed, but it was futile. He
did
exist and I
was
looking for him…I was weak for a pretty face.

 
Atticus caught me looking once and
mentioned that Wyatt had said he needed to go, but didn’t elaborate. I was a little
annoyed that his absence disappointed me.

“It was nice to see
you smile,” Wyatt said as I was walking out the door.

I turned around and
saw him wiping off the counter. “I didn’t see you there. Where did you come
from?”

“I had some
paperwork to take care of in the back.”

“Oh.”

“You headed home?”

“Yeah,” I said, but
my stomach let out a loud growl.