The Coffee Girl Page 3

  “Hmm.” Unable to fathom how this man could know her so well from just a few simple observations, it left Brenna slightly unnerved. “And you know that how?”

  Brock took another drink of his coffee. “You’ve got an ink stain on your sleeve, short nails without a manicure, and a chewed pencil in your hair, further cementing my theory that you are someone who gets in and gets your hands dirty to get the job done.”

  Brenna grabbed for the pencil. After locating it at the back of her bun, she stuffed it into her purse. “You’re good.” She took another sip of chocolate. “Technically, I’m a senior manager in my division. In the grand scheme of things, my position equates to a mid-manager in the company.”

  He shot her a knowing smile. His dad was a muckity-muck at a big corporate office. Brock spent enough time there over the years, hiding from his mother and her fabric swatches, to be able to spot a ladder-climber anywhere.

  Except this freckle-faced girl didn’t seem the type. Although the navy suit was tailored to fit her perfectly, it somehow made him think of an ill-fitting glove. He bet it felt like one to her, too.

  “What do you do at this corporate job where you are a senior manager?” Brock asked, fingers drumming on the table. If he didn’t keep them busy, he wasn’t sure he could fight the insane urge to reach out and grasp the hands of the woman sitting across the table or twine them into her tempting curls.

  “You mean your psychic powers have failed you?” Mirth filled her eyes as she gave him a coy glance.

  Brock shrugged his shoulders. “It lapses on occasion.”

  “Research,” Brenna said, fiddling with her spoon. She didn’t know why she was reacting to her rescuer so oddly. The most bizarre desire to slide into the booth next to him and rest her head against his broad chest kept her fidgeting in her seat. “My team is in charge of research and development. I spend a lot of time online, trying to keep us on the cutting edge.”

  “Sounds interesting and tiring,” Brock observed, noting the dark circles under the coffee girl’s eyes.

  “What about you?” Before he could answer, she pointed toward his restless fingers and bestowed an impish grin upon him. “Let me guess, you’re a concert pianist?”

  Brock chuckled and shook his head.

  The sound delighted her as she watched the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth deepen. “No? Maybe an artist? An accountant? A dentist?”

  Nonchalantly, Brock sipped his coffee. “Not even close, coffee girl. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Brenna inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of wood, outdoors and man. Looking from the top of his head, across his attractive face and down his chest, she finally noticed a bit of sawdust clinging to the front of his flannel shirt. Tanned and calloused, his hands held numerous scars, including a raw cut near the thumb of his left hand.

  “You build things,” she said, studying him intently. As he shifted and rolled his shoulders forward, Brenna decided she was correct in her assessment of his physique. Under that coat lurked a very fit body. A body of someone used to physical labor. A thermal Henley beneath a green plaid shirt accented the breadth of his shoulders and his overall rugged appeal. She liked the way his short brown hair stood up in tousled spikes on his head.

  “Point for you,” Brock said, as the server brought their meals. “What gave me away?”

  “Sawdust.”

  Brock looked down and saw the incriminating evidence clinging to his shirt.

  “I’m in construction.” He sliced into his steak, savoring the first bite.

  “Nice to meet you, construction man.” Brenna took a bite of her baked chicken.

  They discussed their jobs in general terms, their families, the fact that neither of them were married or in a relationship, and thoroughly enjoyed an hour together before Brenna found it impossible to stifle a yawn that nearly cracked her jaw.

  “Pardon me.” Embarrassment brought high color to her cheeks. “It’s been a long day.”

  “That it has.” Brock held her coat while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Before he could pick up the bill, Brenna snatched it off the table and hurried to the cash register. Brock caught her before she got there.

  “Call me old-fashioned, but the guy pays.” Brock dug his wallet out of his back pocket.

  “If we were on a date, I might agree.” Brenna slapped cash down on the counter and nodding at the server. “However, since I owe you not only for coffee this morning but also for coming to my rescue with my flat tire, and I asked you to join me for coffee, this is my treat.”

  “It isn’t necessary.” Brock was uncomfortable letting her pay. It wasn’t how he was raised or liked to do things.

  “I insist.” Her smile made heat begin to zip through his blood. “Then we’re even.”

  “Next time, it’s my turn.” Grudgingly, he returned his wallet to his pocket. He’d buy her coffee every day for a month to compensate for dinner.

  The rugged construction man thought there would be a next time. She was completely open to that suggestion.

  He escorted her to her car, and held the door while Brenna slid in and buckled her seatbelt.

  “I guess this is good night, coffee girl.” Brock leaned down so he was closer to eye level with her.

  “I guess so, construction man.” Brenna’s smile lit her eyes and softened her voice. “Thank you again for helping me out. I really appreciate it.”

  “Thank you for dinner.” He didn’t make a move to leave. “Maybe the next time we meet, we’ll even exchange names.”

  Ignoring the voice in his head telling him to leave, he leaned closer and pressed a quick kiss to those soft pink lips then backed away, shut her door, and hurried to his truck.

  Stunned by the zinging sensation left behind from his lips touching hers, Brenna wanted to spend hours contemplating what had just happened. Instead, she gave herself a mental shake, started her car, and drove back to the freeway.

  For once, she had a great reason to get out of bed in the morning. She couldn’t wait to see her construction man at the coffee shop tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  Brenna looked around the coffee shop one more time before she took her Chai latte and left. It had been almost two weeks since she sat across the table from the construction guy at the little diner after he fixed her tire.

  Twelve days of wondering if he’d fallen off the face of the earth, died in a fiery crash, or decided he didn’t like girls with mascara streaked cheeks and mud-splattered coats.

  Every morning she looked for him at the coffee shop, but he wasn’t there. Maybe the kiss they shared didn’t set his lips on fire the way it did hers. Maybe her wild hair and inane conversation drove him away. Maybe women who sobbed hysterically in their cars on the side of the road just weren’t his type.

  Whatever the reason, she missed seeing his smile and inhaling his wonderful outdoorsy scent, even if it was in passing.

  Although he said he worked in construction, she had no idea where. She had described her job to him, but in broad terms, so he had no idea how to find her either. Since they stupidly decided to wait to exchange names, she had no clue how to contact him and attempted to convince herself that was for the best.

  The situation at work had deteriorated rapidly. Without the hope of seeing the construction guy to give her ever-darkening world a little dose of sunshine, she had all she could do to drag herself out of bed in the morning.

  Distraught and at the end of her rope, she cornered her parents after dinner that evening and talked about her frustrations with her job.

  “Quit,” her dad said, not even looking up from the newspaper in his hands.

  “I can’t do that.” Brenna stared at her father.

  “Sure you can. Walk into the weasel’s office, tell him you’re through and leave, simple as that,” Brandon Smith said, folding the newspaper in half and setting it on his lap. “As bad as they’ve treated you, or let Wesley treat you, they haven’t earned the cour
tesy of any notice.”

  “But Dad, what would I do? I can’t just sit around here unemployed.”

  “Nope, you sure can’t.” Brandon tipped his head to his wife. “But I think your mom can help with that.”

  Confused, Brenna stared from her dad to her mother. “Mom?”

  “Hear me out before you say no, honey,” Letty said, squeezing Brenna’s hand in hers. “I’m going to remodel my shop and I want you and your sister to move in with me. You could open the bistro you’ve always wanted to run and Avery is going to move her flower and gift shop from that dinky little store down the street up to my second floor. You could have half of the front of the store and we can have a commercial kitchen installed. I’ve wanted to streamline my home interior business and with all the floor space, I need something to fill up the rest of the store. I’ll be moving a lot of the sample pieces down to a showroom in the basement, which should leave plenty of room for the three of us to run successful businesses. I’ve already got plans on paper and approval from the powers that be to move forward with the project. What do you say to that?”

  Brenna didn’t know what to say. In fact, her mother’s plans left her speechless. In college, she worked as a barista to help cover her expenses. Along with a lifelong love of baking, she’d dreamed many times of opening her own little bistro with fresh pastries, delicious coffee, and an inviting atmosphere.

  Could she really take a leap of faith, along with her mom and sister to make it happen?

  “Brenna, honey, say something.” Letty gazed intently at her youngest child. She hoped Brenna would agree because she had an appointment set up Saturday morning to meet with the construction company and go over details of the project.

  “Mom, I… Wow!” The more she rolled the idea around in her head, the more she liked it. “If I say yes, how much money do you need me to invest and how long will it take for the renovation to be finished?”

  “That’s my girl.” Letty let out a sigh of relief. “We can work out the financial details later. I’m meeting with the construction company Saturday and I’d really like for you and your sister to be there. We’ll know after the meeting how long to expect, but my hope is to have this project finished by the middle of June.”

  “But Mom, that’s just a little more than three months away. Do you think that’s enough time?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

  Brenna looked at her mom then glanced at her dad. He smiled around the edge of the newspaper he’d once again moved in front of his face. Leave it to her parents to hold her dream out to her with open hands. All she had to do was accept the gift.

  “I’m in. Let’s do this.”

  Letty squealed and wrapped Brenna in an exuberant hug. “Wait until I tell your sister. She is going to be so excited. Are you going to march into work tomorrow and let Wesley the weasel have it?”

  “No.” Brenna considered her exit strategy. “I think I’ll keep working for a while, until I can actually start getting stuff ready for the bistro. It seems like I should keep earning a paycheck for as long as possible if I’m going to start a new business. Mom, this is the best birthday present ever!”

  Brenna’s heart and mood were both light as she bounced out of bed the next morning on her birthday. Maybe turning thirty wouldn’t be so bad after all. Rushed to get ready for work, she went downstairs to find her parents in the kitchen with her favorite breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and crispy bacon on the table.

  “Happy birthday, Brenna!” they said in unison.

  “Thank you, so much.” Brenna gave her watch a quick glance and decided if she skipped her morning coffee stop, she had time for breakfast. Over breakfast, her parents reminded her to be home in time for the party her sister was hosting at her house that evening.

  “I’ll be on time.” Brenna shrugged into her trench coat and grabbed her purse. “Thanks for the wonderful breakfast.”

  “Have a great day, honey.” Brandon kissed her cheek and waved as she hurried out the door.

  “Thanks, Dad. See you both tonight.”

  Brenna tried not to think about the coffee shop and the lack of one charming construction man’s presence there over the last few weeks. She hoped he wasn’t avoiding it just because of her.

  Refusing to let any dark thoughts mar her birthday, she instead focused on the party at her sister’s house that evening.

  Avery and her husband, Greg, were fun. Despite being sisters and not even two years apart in age, Avery and Brenna were very close. When Avery met Greg and fell in love, Brenna felt abandoned for a while. She knew it was silly and Greg’s persistent humor and kindness went a long way in mending Brenna’s hurt feelings. Now, the three of them enjoyed spending time together when their schedules meshed, although Brenna often felt like a third wheel.

  After arriving at the office on time, Brenna maintained a positive attitude right up until Wesley walked in for the morning meeting and set his bloodshot gaze on her.

  “Well, Miss Smith, why don’t you tell us all why your latest and greatest project didn’t properly dazzle the execs and I got reprimanded for shoddy work?” Wesley leaned forward in his chair with his fingers drumming an annoying beat on the shiny surface of the conference table.

  “Well, Wesley, I can only…”

  Wesley snorted, cutting her off. “You can only what? Admit your incompetence? Beg for mercy? Plead for your job? You are pathetic. Completely pathetic.” Wesley waved a dismissive hand her direction and turned his wrath elsewhere.

  When the meeting ended a few minutes later, Wesley motioned Brenna to stay.

  “Well, Miss Smith, what do you have to say for yourself?” Wesley asked in a scornful tone as he leaned back in his chair, hands crossed behind his head.

  Brenna fought down the urge to push him over and leave his shiny shoes dangling in the air. The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to put up with Wesley much longer loosened her tongue.

  “I’d say that if you’d stop claiming my work, then I’d be the one to get reprimanded, not you. And if you wouldn’t randomly rush me to finish a project before it is ready to be completed, there wouldn’t be any problems.”

  With a curt nod of her head, she stalked out of the room with her back ramrod straight and marched to her office, slamming the door.

  It felt good. Really good.

  She wasn’t surprised when Wesley barged into her office, banging the door against the wall.

  “Don’t you ever mouth off to me like that again and don’t you walk away from me. Do you understand, you twit? I’m in charge. Me. I’m the boss. If you value your job at all, you will keep your mouth shut!” Wesley clenched and unclenched his soft, designer-tanned hands at his sides. “If you don’t want to find yourself escorted out of here by security, get busy fixing that report and make me look good.”

  Brenna raised an eyebrow at Wesley and matched him glare for glare. She began to rethink her notion of working for another month or two until the bistro was ready to open.

  Tempted to walk out of the office and never look back, she wouldn’t give Wesley the satisfaction of running her off. She’d quit when she was good and ready, not a minute before. And she wasn’t ready today.

  Wesley took her silence for submission and stalked back out the door. Seconds later, Kathleen poked her head inside and saw Brenna sitting at her desk, appearing perfectly calm.

  “Are you okay?” Kathleen carried in a big bouquet of cheerful flowers and set them on Brenna’s desk.

  “I’m fine, actually.” Brenna released a long breath, realizing she was fine. Better than fine. It was her birthday. For once, she hadn’t let Wesley completely wipe his polished shoes all over her. She had a party with her family and friends to look forward to that evening. Life was pretty darn good.

  “I heard what you said to him. Good for you.” Kathleen plopped down in a chair with a big smile. “About time someone stood up to him.”

  Brenna grinned at her friend as she admired t
he flowers. “These are lovely.”

  “I’m glad you like them.” Kathleen leaned forward in her chair. “Happy Birthday, Brenna. May today be the start of something new and wonderful.”

  “Have you been reading fortune cookies again?” Brenna teased, going through the stack of messages the receptionist left on her desk.

  “No.” Kathleen sat back and crossed her long legs. “I just have a feeling good things are coming your way and it’s about time.”

  “Well, aren’t you prophetic this morning?” Brenna smiled at her friend. Since her discussion with her parents the previous evening, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was easy to see how this job drained her energy and zest for life.

  Kathleen studied Brenna for a long moment. “You’re not telling me something that I really should know. Come on, spill.”

  “All in due time, my friend.” Not quite ready to tell Kathleen about the bistro plans, she wanted to see how long the project was going to take before she shared that information with anyone.

  “You are definitely holding out on me.” The familiar look on Kat’s face let Brenna know she would hound her until she gave her some tidbit of information to mull over.

  “I met a guy,” Brenna blurted out before she could reel the words back in. It would be less damaging to both her psyche and her ears to tell Kathleen about the bistro rather than the fact she had met a man. As Kathleen’s scream of excitement ripped through the office, Brenna ran to the door and yelled into the hall, “Spider! We got it.”

  She shut her door and shook her head at her friend as she sat back down at her desk.

  “Control yourself or you’ll have half the floor in here,” Brenna cautioned, leaning back in her desk chair, rocking it back and forth.

  “Details, details!” Kathleen waved a frantic hand at Brenna.

  “He gets coffee at the same shop I do off the freeway. A couple of weeks ago, he bought me a Chai latte and handed it to me with a smile. That very night, I got a flat tire on the way home and he stopped and fixed it for me. I offered to buy him a cup of coffee and we ended up at a little diner and had dinner together.”