The Fortune Cafe (5 page)

“And you dreaded that why?” he asked after a few ticks of silence.

“My catching a cookie doesn’t mean anything is trying to catch me. I’m kind of a recluse. Not a lot of love to be found in the eremite lifestyle.” They stopped to wait for another traffic light. Her apartment hadn’t ever felt so far away before. The bike certainly shortened the trip. Walking made it seem like they were heading to another continent.

She worried they’d run out of things to talk about with the many blocks away from the beach still left to travel, but they didn’t. She felt surprised by all there was to reminisce over. She was even more surprised at how easily she learned new things about him. She learned he loved dogs in spite of his ex-date wanting them all euthanized. He sheepishly admitted that he’d been exaggerating when he’d made the crack about the dogs to Andrea, but Emma had the sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t been exaggerating at all. Vegan wearing leather. That was the only fact she needed to cement her judgment of Andrea. She gave herself permission to keep her opinion of Andrea. Having an opinion on the woman was not the same thing as making derogatory remarks about her.

Emma learned while walking with Harrison that his parents were well-off people who were having a fancy sort of anniversary party— the kind her mother would have referred to as an “event” and would have loved to attend if she was still out and allowed to do social things, which she
wasn’t
if Emma had anything to say about it. Though in truth, Emma had little to say in anything regarding her mother.

Emma learned that Andrea had gone to the same design school he had, but that he had stayed back east instead of coming home after he broke up with the girl because he didn’t know how to face his family when he knew they all planned on an engagement. This meant that he hadn’t just been casually dating with Andrea.

She tried not to let that bug her. But it did. Like a big black beetle crawling up her arm sort of bugged her. She mentally froze the picture of the beetle on an arm and decided she’d need to work the image into one of the comics.

She learned he opened his own design business and that he did quite well for himself. She loved his entrepreneurial spirit. That same spirit was what drove her to work all hours of the night to get the web comic into print. If she sold through this first shipment of books, she’d be able to cover her bills for the next five years. She would be her own boss and live life on her own terms.

“So did Andrea want to work for your design company?” Was it wrong to ask questions about the ex-girlfriend so soon after a hard breakup? She considered the breakup hard since the plate that had hit her arm had certainly been hard.
Beetle crawling up a bruised arm...
That
was the image.

“Not really... more like wanted to
run
my business for me.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I know exactly what you mean.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

She considered for a moment before giving a half truth. “My mom is like that. Running other people’s lives. Growing up was sometimes... stifling. My dad took the brunt of her full force though. He sheltered me from a lot. He was a great guy.”

“Was?”

Her chest constricted.
Was.
Lucky Dad. He’d had a heart attack during dinner one night. He was now forever beyond the reach of her mother’s grasping, clinging hands. But his freedom meant Emma no longer had the luxury of sheltering under his shade.

She took a shuddering breath and glanced up at the changing traffic light along with the white walk signal. “Yeah, well, he died last year.” She pushed her bike out into the street ahead of him, not knowing why she told him about her controlling mother or dead father. She hadn’t seen this guy for seven years and she’s stripping down to her soul for him?
Amateur.

He quickened his step to catch up with her. His fingers briefly brushed the hand she used to hold her bike up by the handlebars. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The touch felt intimate. She hadn’t realized how raw her soul still must have been for that brush to ache as much as it did.

“It’s okay. He’s in a better place.” She didn’t add that even if there was no life after death, he was still in a better place. Any place was better than life with a constant diet of crippling criticisms.

“How’s your mom handling it?”

Speaking of the insane. “It’s hard to tell with her.”

“I remember you having trouble with her in the past.”

She blinked and drew a sharp breath. He’d known? How had he known? Her tongue tangled trying to find an answer when he stopped her from trying. “I’m sorry. Am I getting too personal?”

She nodded.

He nodded too. “Sorry,” he said again. “Change of subject. Did you do any college after we graduated?”

Her chest constricted with the questions she hated, so she decided to get it all over with in one fell swoop. She’d learned long ago that it was easiest to disappoint people all at once rather than in little bites. “I moved into my own place right after graduation, went to two years of community college before the debt to income ratio became ridiculously unbalanced. I dropped out to work for a while and had a few horrible jobs, then went to work for the café and liked it. It kind of fit me and my lifestyle. So now I’m a waitress and still living in a one bedroom apartment, and I’m content, so please don’t try to give me any advice on how to make my life more fulfilling or how college would be easy to finish if I decided to go back or anything.”

He didn’t respond immediately, so she sneaked a peek at him. He was frowning. “Why would you think I’d be giving advice on life fulfillment?”

“Everybody else does.” Well, not
everybody
— her dad never did. But her mom... Emma sucked in a lungful of air, feeling stupid for allowing the bitterness to creep into her voice.

He stopped walking. “Hey. Do I look like everybody else?”

She stopped too, and gave him her full attention, taking in the way the streetlight haloed his head. He certainly
didn’t
. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to think of how he looked. “No, you don’t,” she said honestly.

He stared hard at her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good.” She moved forward again, grateful that movement made it harder for him to look at her that way. She hadn’t dated anyone since her dad died. She’d forgotten how intense a simple look could be. She’d forgotten how her heart could pump blood so fast through her veins that it left her dizzy. She’d forgotten how to feel.

“This is me!” she said too brightly when they finally reached the steps to her apartment. “Thanks for walking me home. The last time anyone walked me home was when my dad—” She stopped, horrified to be caught trailing down that particular memory lane.

He smiled though, like he understood. “What do you do with your bike?” he asked, and she felt immense gratitude with him changing the subject.

“I take it upstairs with me. It’s not like this is a bad neighborhood or anything, but I’d be devastated if someone stole my ride.” She did an inward eye roll. “I mean, I
do
own a car.” She spit out in an attempt to appear less needy and pathetic. “I just don’t like driving when we have such mild weather. I like the thinking time and exercise of riding my bike.”

He took the bike from her and picked it up. “Upstairs then?”

Emma’s face warmed, and she held out her hands to try to stop him. “Harrison, no, really, I can take it up. I do it every day. Sometimes several times a day.”

“But today you have someone else to do it for you. C’mon. Let me carry it. I could never show my face to my mom again if I didn’t help.”

“Are we talking about the same mom who is probably listening to your girlfriend sob about you right now?”

He laughed as if that image didn’t bother him as much as it bothered her. “Yeah, that one. And she isn’t my girlfriend.”

He started walking up the stairs in spite of the fact that she hadn’t confirmed his direction. With little other choice— unless she planned on wrestling the bike away from him— she followed him up.

At the top of the stairs, he set the bike against the wall and waited. She pulled out her keys and wondered if she should open the door and just go inside, or if she should tell him good-bye first and wait for him to leave before she opened it. The trouble that sprang from being a recluse was not knowing what to do in social situations where everyone else on the planet felt perfectly comfortable.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked out of nowhere.

She pulled out her phone to check the time, but he held out his hand. “Mind if I see?”

She handed her phone off and felt confused as he tapped the screen. She jumped when his phone rang from inside his pocket. He checked his phone while handing hers back to her. “Oh look!” he said. “You sent me a text. Must mean you want me to have your phone number.”

She laughed. “Well played, Harrison. Do you do that to all the girls?”

“Honestly, that was a first. But worth it, I think.” He watched her with a curiosity that made her shift uncomfortably. But she was glad that he appeared to be a little nervous too. “I’m in town for two weeks,” he said. “My parents’ anniversary party isn’t until the weekend after this one. I don’t know why I took so much time off. I just... guess I wanted to be home for a bit.”

She nodded, not sure why he was telling her any of this.

“So I wondered if maybe you had plans tomorrow night.”

“Oh. Oh!” She blinked, startled at the implications of this question. “I work tomorrow night.”

“What about the next night— or the night after that?” He quickly added the last part when he saw that she was about to decline.

“I’m kind of booked solid this whole week,” she said. The LA Comic Con was that weekend. She had a lot of preparation left to do before Friday, and then she had the entire weekend, which she hoped would be a flurry of selling books and growing her fan base.

“Oh.” He looked down, obviously disappointed. “You’re dating someone then? In a relationship?”

“Relationship? Me?” She barked out a laugh. “No. I don’t really have time for—” She broke off her typical commentary on people being time-takers and her not having room in her life, because for the first time in forever, she wanted to
make
room. “Maybe you can come to the café tomorrow night. I can take my dinner break, and we can eat together.”

He brightened. “Sounds like a great idea.”

She grinned. “I’ll treat you for dinner. Since your previous experience was so... you know I can’t come up with a word that doesn’t sound like I’m making fun of you, so we’ll just say your previous dining experience was simply
so
.”

He laughed.

She liked it a lot when he laughed.

“What time?” he asked.

“Five.” Emma scrunched her nose. “Is an early dinner okay?”

“Seeing you again is okay.”

Her heart pounded so hard she worried he might hear it. She honestly never remembered any guy making her feel wobbly-kneed and cloudy-headed. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Why couldn’t she stop staring at his lips?

She forced her eyes back to his but found he was staring at her lips too. She swallowed hard and jangled her keys to break the tension between them; not that the tension was unpleasant, but it was so
full
.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and jangled her keys again.

He leaned in, his breath warm and minty, and settled a slow, lingering kiss on her cheek near her ear. “Yes, you will,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and soaked the burn from his lips touching her skin until it filled her completely. When she opened her eyes again, he’d already gone. She didn’t remember hearing his footsteps descending the stairs. She didn’t remember feeling him leave. All she felt was the flare of possibility igniting in her core.

Harrison couldn’t believe he’d dared. He’d kissed her— granted it was only a cheek and he’d kissed dozens, if not hundreds, of cheeks before. The design business was cordial like that. A kiss on the cheek meant friendliness and social comfort.

But he hadn’t meant anything like simple friendliness in that contact. And it had been hard to keep from straying over to her mouth where she kept biting on that lower lip in a way that made him near crazy. He raked his fingers through his hair as he walked back to his car.

Emma Armstrong. After all these years.

The guarded look was still there, the one that had held him at bay during all of his high school years, the one that said, “Back off— I bite.” But he wasn’t an insecure sixteen-year-old any longer, and the fortifications she’d so carefully built around herself didn’t intimidate him.

Emma’s reserved nature was totally unlike the challenge he had yet to tackle once he arrived back at his parents’ house. Harrison considered avoiding the home scene by booking a hotel, yet staying anywhere but under her roof would irreparably hurt his mom’s feelings.

He had to go home to deal with the mess that came from dating girls who’d managed to buddy up with his whole family while he wasn’t looking.

He reached his car, drove to his parents’ place, and thought back to high school, to that first day when Emma had shown up in his life. He hadn’t hit his growth spurt and pretty much everyone towered over him. He’d felt like his parents had sent him to a special school for giants.