“Oh, don’t thank me until you look in the mirror.” And there it is, that glint in her eye that tells me she’s up to something mischievous.
I pull the sweatshirt over my head and smooth out the creases. There’s writing all over the front, so I look down and read. Sure enough, there in thick, bold, white letters are the wordsThis Girl Loves Bengal Cats and Coffee. And there’s a Bengal cat screen-printed in the front to dispel any confusion.
Molly can barely restrain a giggle. “This was all they had in your size…”
“I hate cats,” I mutter as we walk back out to our table, which, of course, is all the way across the coffee shop. The coffee shop, which, might I add, is now filled with people.
Of course it is.
When I walked in, there were a handful of people here, drinking their coffee and minding their business.
But now? Now that I am wearing a purple sweatshirt emblazoned with a cat on it? Now they’re all staring at me.
So, I put on my most charming smile and own it. I’ve learned in business that people can smell fear, anxiety, and frustration. And sensing it just gives your opponent an edge. And no one gets an edge over me, so I have refined the art of not giving a shit.
Molly’s eating up every stare and every giggle that comes my way. And she leisurely pauses to check out merchandise, and hems and haws at the bakery case, all while putting me on display.
And honestly, the smile on her face is worth it.
She decides on a blueberry scone—warmed up, naturally—and then we turn to have a seat.
Two guys now occupy the chairs next to ours and I smile politely in greeting. Then my head snaps back in recognition.
“Mr. Madigan, I’m just out for a quick coffee. I assure you I’ll finish up everything tonight.” Nate looks mortified, as though he’s been caught doing something as scandalous as grabbing coffee before heading back to the inn to work for six more hours.
Although, he’d be right to worry in most situations. Joel Peretti would be handing him his ass right now. And Blake Stills would be asking him how he’s survived all this time without knowing how to make his own cup of coffee.
Yes, the guys I work with are total pricks.
Good thing I’m not one of them. Not only could I never look myself in the mirror, but I have a feeling Molly might cut off my balls.
“No worries, Nate. Having a cup of coffee is never something you should apologize for.” He smiles gratefully and I swear I can actually see his shoulders relax.
The guy with him is fixated on my shirt, so I start the introductions. “I’d like you to meet Molly. She purchased this sweatshirt just for me after I got caught in the rain.”
“Molly, great to meet someone with such excellent taste. I’m Nate, and this is Jared.” Nate can barely keep from laughing.
Handshakes are exchanged all around and Molly enchants both of the guys with the extended version of my rain-soaked tale.
I sit back and sip my drink, content just to watch and listen. I consider myself to be charming when it’s called for. That’s part of my job, afterall. But the charm Molly exudes is natural and effortless. Everyone in her orbit is drawn to her, just as I was a few months ago at that bar. And, I hope, I’m smart enough never to let her go.
“What sounds good, Stella? It’s your pick.” She just finished up her physical therapy appointment, and we’re off to grab breakfast.
“I love this car. Maybe we should just get Egg McMuffins, so we can keep cruising?”
At her hopeful look, I laugh. “Enjoy it while you can. I saw Ev last night at the coffee shop, and I promised to return his wheels today. And I have to say that I doubt he’d appreciate crumbs on his leather interior.”
“Alright, then. Let’s go to that diner over by the college. I’ve got a hankering for blueberry pancakes.”
We fill up on carbs and talk about our weekend plans. Stella’s are far more exciting than mine. I am heading out to Mahady’s with Ev tomorrow night to check out a band that might perform at Elaine and Simon’s reception. It’s a far cry from the weekends when I used to go to the club night after night, but it will feel good to get back into the scene, so to speak.
“Do you mind dropping me at the nail salon, dear? I really should get a fill. My nails look awful.”
“Of course not, but really, they don’t look bad at all.”
“Well, Vera’s brother is in town, and I just want to look my best, you understand.”
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of a woman and her look.” I smile and steal the check before she notices it on the table.
