A Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Serendipitous Love Book 1) Read online

  My eyebrows dipped together as I realized I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself than them. But really, he was just bringing me to see his shop, acquiring a new customer…

  Right?

  “Uh-uh. See? This is why I was ready to pretend I didn’t know what you were talking about. Now you’re turning it over in your head, making it into a big deal. Maybe he is just giving you a chance to make some friends… or maybe he’s trying to see how fast he can get your thighs up by your ears,” Eddie said, making a nasty little gesture with his pointer finger and a loosely closed hand.

  “Eddie!” Vivienne and I both gasped, but only I blushed, suddenly feeling the need to close an extra button on my shirt.

  He rolled his eyes. “What? My point is, we don’t know Roman’s intentions. That’s what the look was about, and now you—” He cast a pointed look in my direction, “Get to obsess about it. We were gonna gossip about it once you were gone, but since you had to be nosy… Now you know.” He gave me a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, then went back to drinking his beer.

  I looked to Vivienne for relief, but she shrugged, opening and closing her mouth like she was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, she spoke. “Simone, we really didn’t mean to freak you out. We’re all cool, but we don’t know a ton about Roman’s personal life. We’re like… really, really good work friends, so it may not even be a big deal that he introduced you to us. It was just a little nonverbal gossip, and it has gone way left.”

  Damn right it has.

  Despite his subtle flirtation, I was content to let this little encounter with Roman remain completely platonic. The hot, inappropriate stuff could play out in my head, indulging my private fantasies of what, other than grinding beans, he could do with those big hands. Now, they had me wondering if “showing me what real coffee was” was some type of salacious, allegorical bullshit he used to pick up women, and I’d fallen for it.

  I pursed my lips, pushing out a deep breath.

  “Listen,” Eddie said, clapping a hand on my shoulder again. “Roman is a stand-up guy. Whatever he’s got in mind for you, I’m sure it’ll be a fun ride… no pun intended.”

  Vivienne gave a frustrated sigh. “Eddie.”

  “Okay, okay.” Eddie lifted his hands in a repentant gesture, trying to soften the mischief in his words. “We’re sorry for making it seem like more than what we knew it was… We’re still gonna gossip about it when you leave, but we’re sorry you have to know about it.”

  “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

  For a moment, Eddie looked genuinely contrite. Then, an impish twinkle lighted his steel grey eyes. “Does it make you feel better to tell you I have a hunch Roman has a monster in his pants. Have you seen the way he walks, like he has to step around it? Like he’s gonna trip over it.”

  “Jesus, Eddie!” Vivienne scolded.

  “What did I do?”

  Eyes narrowed, Vivienne leveled a glare at him. “Could you not be quite so… Eddie, right now?”

  He shrugged. “I was trying to make her feel better!” As he went back to his beer, he winked at me yet again, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “A big dick always makes me feel better.”

  My first inclination was to be scandalized, but my outrage quickly turned to laughter as I caught the look of mock innocence of Eddie’s face. In no time, his serious expression dropped, and he was laughing too.

  “What did that fool say?” Vivienne asked, but I was giggling too hard to answer, and soon, she was rolling with laughter too, because we were.

  “I hate to break up this little party, but I promised to have Simone out of here by midnight, so…”

  I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes to see Roman standing at the table, looking back and forth between the three of us.

  “These two treat you alright?” he asked, extending a hand to help me stand.

  I nodded, grinning. “For the most part, yes. It was nice meeting you guys.”

  “Same here,” Vivienne and Eddie agreed.

  As Roman began leading me away, Eddie called out to us. “Hey Roman!”

  He turned, glancing back toward the table. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t hurt her, okay?”

  I clapped a hand over my mouth, mortified all over again, while Roman looked confused.

  “What is he…”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head as Vivienne shot daggers at Eddie across the table. “I really do only have a few more minutes.”

  Roman shrugged, then continued leading me to the back of the shop. He pushed through a swinging door, into a kitchen with a stainless steel table encircled by stools. The walls were lined with clear, spotlessly clean airtight bins filled with neatly labeled coffee beans, some still green.

  “We roast our own beans, right here in house,” Roman explained, pointing to several big steel contraptions. “And we grind on the fly, to make sure everything stays as fresh as possible.” I listened, fascinated by his passion and wealth of knowledge as he explained the differences between Robusta and Arabica beans, the virtues of different roasting methods, and how they imparted natural flavors like cinnamon and vanilla right into the beans. Before tonight, the depth of my true interest in coffee was how fast I could get it into my system, and how far the caffeine could get me before I crashed. Now? I was absorbing every word he gave me, following him around like a starry-eyed school girl.

  Finally, he led me to the table, where he sat down beside me. “Now, I brought you here because I said I was gonna show you what real coffee tasted like. There are a lot of different brewing methods, but my personal preference is French press,” he said, pointing at a small, hand-operated machine on the table. “We’re gonna use our house blend. Nice, full bodied blend, with a smooth taste. Decaf, since it’s late.” He grinned as he walked me through the process of filling the machine with coffee grounds and pouring the hot water in, then waiting a few minutes while it brewed.

  “So, why flowers?” he asked, turning his attention to me while we waited.

  I shrugged, shaking my head as I tried to come up with an explanation that made sense. “I… I don’t really know, honestly. I love making things look pretty, and I love pretty things, so flowers seemed like the natural choice. My parent’s house has gorgeous flower gardens, and I used to spend as much time there as I could, reading, studying, listening to music… you name it. Anything I could do to escape their… craziness. And, there’s India. That girl… we grew up together. We were neighbors, and our moms were best friends, so we were always together, and she loved flowers. I think she would have turned herself into one if she could. India was really into nature, and plants… she actually majored in horticulture.”

  You’re doing it again, Monie. I shook my head. I could practically hear her now, scolding me about rambling, admonishing that I get to the point. “Anyway, the money to start Posh Petals actually came from her.”

  “She gave you a loan?”

  “She gave me a gift.”

  Roman whistled. “Wow. That’s a damn good friend to give you the money to start a business.”

  “The best,” I agreed with a nod. “I owe so much to her. Um… What about you? Why coffee?” I asked, changing the subject before I got emotional.

  “Kinda similar story to you. Your parents were into flowers, my parents were into coffee. Like…seriously into it. You know how people do wine tastings? Well, my parents would take me with them to cuppings, which is the same thing, just with coffee. They poured their passion for it into me, and… here we are.”

  “That’s really cool. Is that what we’re doing now? A cupping?”

  He grinned, and I had the strongest urge to stick my fingers into one of those dimples. “A small one,” he said, oblivious to me clenching my hands together in my lap. “You ready to taste this?”

  “Sure.”

  Reaching for my hands, he placed them on the press. My heart raced as he positioned them correctly on the
machine, but didn’t withdraw his own. He kept his hands covering mine as he explained something I couldn’t hear over the sound of my heartbeat roaring in my ears. He used a light pressure to encourage me to push down on the plunger of the press. It wasn’t a fast process, so the delightful tingle of skin against skin was prolonged. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my own on the press as the coffee grounds got pushed to the bottom.

  When the screen finally went as low as it could, he pulled his hands away and I clenched them again in my lap, trying to dampen the delicious thrill his touch had left behind on my skin. I watched as he poured two cups, handing one to me.

  “I don’t get any sugar? No cream, nothing?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t need all of that with good coffee. Now, that foam you see on top is called crema. Lift your cup up and smell it.”

  I followed instructions, bringing the cup up to my nose. “I don’t know… it’s kind of… caramelly? Is that a word? Is that a thing in coffee?”

  Roman chuckled as he nodded. “Yeah, that’s a thing. A good thing. Smell anything else?”

  “It’s a little bit chocolaty, and… almost …. flowery. Or am I imagining it? Or just smelling it on myself?”

  “You’re not imagining it. Go ahead and take a sip.”

  I cringed. “I really have to do this with no milk or anything?”

  “Yes.”

  I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst as I brought the cup to my lips. Instead of the bitter, acrid taste I expected from black coffee, it was buttery, nutty, and somehow felt creamy against my tongue. When I looked up in awe, Roman was smiling at me.

  “Told you,” he said, taking a sip from his own cup.

  I playfully applauded him. “You did. I do still think it would be better with a little milk and sugar… but this is definitely the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Oh I know. I told you,” he said emphatically, laughing as he clapped the side of my knee in a familiar gesture. Warmth ran from the point of impact right to the juncture of my thighs, which I clenched for the umpteenth time that day to calm my horny self down. Our eyes met briefly, then shot to where he was touching me. He immediately removed his hand, running his tongue over his lips as he stood. “I should probably let you get home. I’ll go grab your bag.”

  He was out of the room before I could even respond, leaving me confused and rooted to my hard metal stool.

  Whelp.

  That reaction pretty much confirmed this was supposed to be a friendly encounter… right? I mean, why else would a grown ass man get scared of a little super-electric chemistry? Unless… crap, maybe I was misinterpreting. I rewound the incident in my head, trying to recollect what my outward reaction to his touch had been. Maybe he was reacting to a supposition that his touch had been unwelcome, which was totally inaccurate.

  Wait… what?

  When had I made the shift from innocent flirting to welcoming this man’s stranger-danger touching? Yeah, he was cute— scratch that, he was gorgeous— but still. I didn’t know him, and Vivienne and Eddie were his friends. They could easily be in on his serial killer ambitions.

  …Okay, maybe that was taking it a little far, but the point remained that I needed to pull myself together. I took a deep breath, imploring myself to relax, and try not to be so awkward and anxious about being around an attractive man. When Roman returned with my bag, I was calm and cool, a perfect example of grace under fire… until I stepped out of his coffee house, and instead of saying goodbye, he informed me he was walking with me.

  “Roman,” I said, shaking my head. “I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to do that.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “The hell I don’t. It’s almost midnight on a Friday night. What kind of piece of shit man would have you walk home by yourself?”

  “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I wasn’t interested in going back and forth, so I shrugged, motioning for him to follow along. “So, what happened with your friend and his wife?” I asked, setting a leisurely pace that contradicted my desire to get home and sort through my thoughts.

  Roman chuckled, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans to check the screen. “I haven’t gotten a text to meet him at a bar, so I’m assuming he was able to smooth it over. Davis is a good guy though, and he loves his wife like crazy. He just… I don’t know where his head goes sometimes.”

  “Is that code for cheating on her?” I asked, before I could censor myself.

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Never. He might forget an anniversary, or say some shit he probably shouldn’t, but Davis is serious about those vows.”

  “That’s good. Refreshing, actually. A husband who takes that part of the vows seriously is almost an anomaly these days.”

  “Yikes,” he said, glancing at me as we continued our stroll. “You say that like you know from experience. Recently divorced?”

  I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I silently cursed myself for sounding bitter. “No, actually. Never been married, or even engaged. Just… um… some family issues with infidelity. So I may be a little bit jaded there.”

  “That’s understandable.” He nodded as we stopped to wait for the traffic signal that would allow us to safely cross the street. “So… how did your serious last relationship end?”

  Lifting an eyebrow, I shot him a disapproving look as we moved to the other side of the street. “You’re asking some pretty personal questions.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  Our gazes met, and I saw genuine curiosity brimming in his eyes before I looked away, turning to the sidewalk before us, as it gradually filled with people leaving their homes to kick off the latter half of the Friday night life. We passed a group of scantily-clad club-goers, and I snuck a glance at Roman to scrutinize his reaction, but his attention was still very much on me. He raised his eyebrows inclining his head as if he were encouraging me to respond to his last statement.

  I pushed out a puff of air. “Well, it was years ago. I barely even remember.”

  Since it never happened.

  “That’s all I get?”

  “That’s all you get,” I confirmed with a nod. “And, we’re here,” I pointed up at the apartment building we’d stopped in front of, “So… I’m gonna go inside. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  His eyebrows dipped in a slight scowl. “You live here?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Okay, well at least let me see you inside of the building.”

  Shit.

  My palms began to sweat a little as I tried to appear confident ascending the stairs to the door of the building. I silently prayed for a little miracle as my hand closed over the metal handle and pulled.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  It was locked. My mind raced, searching for a believable story. “Oh, man. Some little kid must have set off the inside lock again. I’ll call the super and wait out here. You don’t have to wait for me.”

  “Hold on, Let me see what I can do to help you out,” Roman said, smiling as he came up the steps. He pulled out his wallet, waving it in front of a digital scanner I hadn’t even noticed beside the door. The tiny red light turned green, and I groaned as I heard the sharp click of the locks rolling back.

  I dropped my head. “So I couldn’t have chosen a worse building to pretend to live in, huh?”

  Roman chuckled as he returned his wallet to his back pocket. “I really don’t think you could have. I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if you were one of my neighbors. Am I really being that much of a creep right now, that you’re pulling out evasion techniques?”

  “No,” I laughed. “It’s not like that, It’s just… single woman, in the city… I have to be cautious, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do. That’s why I wanted to make sure you got home, cause I kept you out later than you would normally be.”

  “I app
reciate that, but I think I’ll be okay.”

  Roman shrugged, his face dropping into a defeated expression. “Alright. I can respect your wishes. But can you do one thing for me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let me see your phone.” I did as he asked, and he called his phone from mine. “Now, you have my number. Can you shoot me a text when you get in, let me know you made it home?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. I can do that.”

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding. “I’m gonna head back to my shop to help with closing up, but you be safe, okay?”

  “I will. Goodnight.” I gave him a wave, then carefully descended the stairs, forcing myself not to look back until I had turned the corner. The walk to my own building was less than five minutes, and I handled it eagerly, anxious to get home, out of the humid summer night. I sighed in relief as I walked through my front door, welcoming the chill of the air conditioner as I locked it behind me.

  I stripped out of my clothes, yearning to relax with a shower, then a glass of wine and the leftover Chinese food in my refrigerator from the night before. Before I stepped into the hot spray, I obliged Roman’s request and sent him a text confirming I’d made it home and saved his number. Nearly an hour later, I was a clean, full, and a little bit tipsy from drinking three glasses of wine while I indulged in high-drama reality TV. I was actually dozing off when my phone vibrated with Roman’s reply.

  “Glad to hear it. Sorry for the late reply, was finishing up with UG. Enjoyed getting to know you today. -Mr. Coffee”

  I gave the phone a silly grin, as if he could actually somehow see it. “Enjoyed you too. Thanks for the coffee.” I hit send, then quickly tapped out another message. “Maybe I’ll replace my morning coffee with yours.”

  The innuendo behind that didn’t occur to me until after I’d hit send. Crap! Hopefully he wouldn’t even notice it.

  “You’re very welcome. It was my pleasure. — Mr. Coffee.”

  “I like the sound of that. — Mr. Coffee.”

  My eyes went wide, and I read his last message multiple times, trying to determine if that was an innocent “I’d love to have you as a new paying customer”, or the more prurient “I’d love to have you in my bed, then fix you coffee in the morning”.