String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) (5 page)

“You should do
something about that.” He smiled.

“That Thai place
down the road is open, right?”

“Sure is,” he
laughed. “And the food poisoning comes complimentary.”

“Gross. Really?”

“Nah. But it’s not
that good.” He took his apron off and walked toward me, holding the door open. “C’mon,
I’ll take you to my favorite place in the neighborhood.”

“Wyatt…”

“It’s food, Vi.
That’s all.”

I looked past him
and pointed to the customers still hanging out.

“Emma’s closing
tonight. I was just sticking around to talk to you.”

I felt my cheeks
burn hot and looked away to avoid the awkwardness I felt. He held the door open
and I reluctantly stepped out, questioning my sanity and what I was getting
myself into.

It’s just food?

Yeah, right.

WYATT

We got to Fusion
Bar and Grill and sat down at a table on the sidewalk. The menu was printed on
a piece of paper and had the date written on it. I watched Vi look it over and
tried to gauge what she was thinking.

“They make a new
menu every day, depending on what the chef wants to cook.”

“But what if you
like something and they don’t have it next time you come?”

“It’s never been a
problem for me. I always like something they have on the menu.”

About eight months earlier,
my childhood friend Jeff, who owned the restaurant, decided to stay open until
one in the morning on Thursdays and Fridays for the late crowd.

I’d never been
there late at night, but I was glad I remembered the place. It was definitely
convenient luck for me.

She settled on the grilled
eggplant Parmesan sandwich and I ordered the same. The waitress disappeared in
the back, leaving us alone. Viola shifted in her seat and looked around the
walls, trying to avoid looking at me.

“So aside from
Atticus, have you met any new people since you’ve been here?”

“Besides my
landlord? No,” she laughed. “But my best friend is coming out in a few weeks.”

“Ouch,” I said,
taking a sip of my water.

“Apparently you’re
more than a friend,
babe
,” she
quipped, but then her eyes grew wide and she shook her head. “Just kidding.”

“So tell me about
this
friend
who’s coming out. Should
I be jealous?” I teased, knowing that I was treading on shaky ground. But she
made it easy with her red cheeks and constant fidgeting.

“Everyone’s jealous
of Jolie,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes.

“How so?”

“She’s the crazy
one,” Viola answered. “Dani’s the good girl, Millie’s the smart one.”

“And you?”

“I’m the dreamer,”
she answered without any emotion.

“Is that a bad
thing?”

“No. Not bad. But
it leaves you open to a lot of disappointment.”

“How so?”

She bit her lip and
looked away, and I hoped that she would elaborate. I stayed quiet and gave her
some space to choose her next words. I thought it would offer me some insight
into the woman who caught my attention as soon as she walked through my door.

Until that day, I had never tried so hard to befriend a woman in my
entire life. But something drew me to her. She seemed scared and strong at the
same time, like she had a bone to pick with the world. I found myself saying
and doing things that I normally wouldn’t.

She went out of her way to make sure I knew that she was unavailable,
so of course that made me more interested. And I was absolutely flirting with
her. I watched as she tried to find the chair to relax in and I didn’t know
anyone noticed my staring until Emma walked over and nudged me.

After two weeks of seeing her in my coffee shop, my employees began to
notice the way I looked at her.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” she asked. She had been working for me
for a while and we had an easy working relationship. Sometimes I felt like she
was the sister I never wanted.

“What are you talking about?” I went back to pretending I was busy
when she snatched the piece of paper that had Viola’s order.

“You aren’t fooling anyone,” she said quietly. “Besides, she just looked
over here.”

“She’s probably trying to make sure she avoids me.”

“Trust me, a woman doesn’t have that look on her face if she’s
avoiding someone.”

I glanced over and saw that she was reading the same book she had the
first day she came in.
Surely she’s finished it by
now.

“She’s not interested. Besides, there’s something up with her.”

“Like?”

“Not sure.”

“Is she dating someone? Married?”

“I don’t remember seeing a ring.”

The day Vi came
into String Beans, it was the first time I acknowledged that I was the owner. I
knew my dad would be proud.

I never planned on
leaving my cushy job as a corporate accountant in New York to run the family business.
But life had other plans. Dad called to tell me that Mom had suffered a massive
stroke, and since I have no siblings, I was left with little options. Mom and Dad
gave up so much for me, and I felt obligated to help. He was spending all his
time nursing Mom back to health, and the store was starting to tank.

When I sat down to
look at the books, putting my business degree to good use, I discovered how
ineffectively the store was run. I crunched some numbers and talked to my dad
about some changes he could make and hopefully the store would become
profitable again.

“How long have you
owned String Beans?” Viola asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

“It’s been in the
family since before I was born. It was my mom’s dream, and my dad made it
happen. But I took it over about a year ago.”

“What about your
mom?”

“She had a stroke
and wasn’t able to run it anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She’s okay. I
mean, her speech is slower and it takes more time for her to do everyday
things, but considering they didn’t think she was going to make it, she’s
great.”

She turned her body
toward me and rested her arms on the table. I felt like I was about to be
bombarded with a ton of questions.

“Where did she come
up with the name?”

I leaned back in my
chair and laughed as I clasped the back of my neck. “The easy answer, Mom’s
obsessed with coffee. But the longer answer is that she wanted to have
someplace in the area for people to escape. She loved the idea of being the
place people considered their second home…so she named it for coffee beans.”

“And the
string
part of it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”
I asked.

“Yeah, but tell me
anyway.” She smiled.

“My dad is a music
guy. Can’t sing to save his life and has never played an instrument. But he’s a
big fan. I guess she chose the name for her and my dad, because while they’re
completely different, they work.”

She remained quiet
for a moment as she considered my answer, but then her smile grew and soon she
was laughing softly.

“Did you just make
that up? Because that was pretty damn impressive.”

“You think?” I
questioned, amused by her response.

“Oh yeah,” she
nodded. “That one is sure to get you some dates.”

“I’ll have to
remember that.”

“What did you do
before you owned the store?”

“What do you think
I did?” I challenged, mimicking her posture. How a person sees someone else
speaks more about them than you.

She leaned back in
her chair and contemplated the question. I was prepared for any number of
titles, but not what she said next.

“Pornography
historian?”

A laugh erupted
from me and she smiled, pleased with her joke.

“Is that a thing?”
I asked

“You tell me. I
mean, that
is
what you did, right?”
Viola asked with a smirk.

“Very funny.”

“What? Were you
something boring like an accountant?”

My eyes widened,
and I nodded my head slowly and watched as her amusement turned to mortification.

“You’re joking.” She
covered her face with her hands and peeked through her fingers. “You
are
joking, right?”

“Nope. That was me.
Boring accountant guy.”

“I didn’t mean
anything by it.”

I smiled and pulled
one of her hands away with my own. I should have let go. For the life of me, I
didn’t know why I was still holding onto it, but I had to release her when she
all but shook my hand away.

“Tell me something
about you,” I said, attempting to make things less awkward.

“Not much to tell.”

“I don’t believe
that. I think you mentioned that you’re crazy?”

“I didn’t say
I
was crazy,” she scoffed playfully. “I
said my
life
was crazy.”

“Is there a
difference?”

“Oh, there is.
Trust me.”

“Care to
elaborate?”

She sat quietly for
a moment and looked like she was debating something in her head. Whatever it
was, I wanted to hear it, so I sat patiently and waited.

“Remember how I
said that I moved out here to start over?”

I nodded, but kept
quiet because she was opening up.

“I’m married.”

Damn.

“But you’re not
wearing a ring,” I commented, pointing to her finger.

She looked down to
study it and I noticed the faint indentation of a band. She closed her eyes and
tipped her face up at the ceiling before finally looking at me again. “Yeah,
those usually come off when you find your husband in your bed with someone
else.”

“Ouch,” I said. “How
long were you together?”

She looked at me
and I instantly regretted the question when I spotted the sadness that filled
her eyes.

“Three years.”

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know why I
was apologizing, because I was pretty sure I was grateful that her marriage was
over. And that made me an asshole.

Her shoulders
sagged and she avoided looking at me when she spoke. “I should have seen it
coming.”

“How so?”

“I’m sorry, can we change
the subject?” she asked, turning to face me with a fake smile plastered on her
face.

“Tell me
about…Jolie, was it?”

I liked that the
mention of her friend brought her some sense of peace. Vi’s face when she
smiled, like she was at that moment, was beautiful.

“She’s been worried
about me since I moved. She’s determined to come out here and kick my ass.
Jolie is the type that always needs people around. And since I have no one, I
think her first mission is to find me some friends out here.”

“She doesn’t need
to find you anyone—you’ve got me.”

“Ah, yes. My
friend, Mr. Earp. She’ll love you.”

“Most women love
me,” I said without a hint of humor. She scoffed and I cracked, unable to keep
up the façade. “Yeah, I know. I can’t pull off the
douchy
-guy
thing.”

“Oh, I think you’re
doing just fine,” she quipped.

“Damn,” I said,
dropping my head and laughing.

“I’m just kidding,”
she answered before refocusing her attention on me.

Something told me
that Viola was going to be hard to get to know. I just hoped she was worth
knowing.

“So which do you
prefer: New York or L.A.?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know that
you can compare them.”

“Was it hard moving
back after being out there?”

“Originally, when I
left New York to help out here, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. I had a
girlfriend, a condo, a career…
everything
was there. But after three weeks in L.A., my girlfriend dumped me and my bosses
were threatening to fire me if I didn’t get back within the week. In the end, I
was just trying to find someone to sublet my place.”

“She dumped you
while you were helping your family?” She was appalled and I appreciated that
she found it offensive too. “That’s pretty shitty.”

“Yeah. I was out
here for a month before I had to go to New York to get my things. Jaime, my ex,
heard I was in town and showed up at my door trying to get back together. I
guess she figured I was back for good, but when she realized I was moving, she
was pissed.”

“But she broke up
with you…I’m confused.”

“It was the way
Jaime liked our relationship…full of drama, usually at her hand. She liked the
roller coaster, and I just wanted off. I guess, as crappy as this is going to
sound, my mom’s stroke helped me end it for good.”

“Was it hard to
leave your life behind?”

“I’d be lying if I
said no. But it wasn’t the worst thing, either. For most people, L.A. is too
congested, too busy. For me, it’s home. And ultimately, my parents needed me,
and I wasn’t going to bail on them.”

“Sounds like
they’re lucky to have you,” she complimented.

I didn’t have a
chance to respond because Jeff walked out to say hello. He made it a point to
greet his customers and get to know the locals. My friend was always loud and
boisterous and it was something all of his regulars had gotten used to.

“Good to see you,
man,” he said, patting my back.