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She waited.
He glanced up without quite meeting her eye. “I feel bad for not telling you what Kenneth was up to.”
Ah. Guilt. That was almost as bad as pity. Well, he was in luck, because she was more than happy to let him off the hook if it meant things could go back to normal.
“You don’t have to feel bad. Like I said, it’s not your job or your business.”
Instead of looking relieved, he nodded sullenly at the floor. Whatever he’d been hoping she’d say, that was apparently not it.
Penny had no idea what he wanted from her. She’d offered him absolution. What else was she supposed to do?
He started to walk off, then stopped and turned back. “It seems like you’re mad at me, is all.”
Penny’s mouth formed a silent oh. She supposed she had been more short with him than usual, but she was honestly surprised he’d even noticed—or minded. She’d assumed he preferred being treated that way, since it was the way he’d always treated her. Was it possible he’d actually enjoyed her attempts at conversation all this time?
She really did not understand him at all.
“I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was. I guess I was just embarrassed.”
His brow furrowed as his eyes met hers finally, causing her stomach to give a little lurch. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat at his unexpected earnestness.
He nodded and left her alone.
“Why not try something different today?” Caleb suggested when Penny ordered her usual on Friday. “Be adventurous.”
Something had definitely changed between them. It was like the ice had broken, and suddenly he didn’t mind talking to her so much anymore. Evidently, the key to making friends with him was abject humiliation and a little crying. Neat.
“Like what?” she asked, curious to see what he would recommend.
“The Mexican mocha with cinnamon and cayenne is my favorite.”
Penny tucked this information away in the ever-expanding mental folio file with Caleb’s name on it. Favorite coffee beverage: Mexican mocha. Check.
“Too much sugar,” she said, shaking her head. “One of my uncles lost a foot to diabetes. Do you want me to lose a foot?”
Caleb’s eyes sparked with amusement and her mouth fell open in shock. He should have a license for those eyes. At the very least, he should have to issue a warning before he let them twinkle at anyone like that.
“The usual it is,” he said, and went to go make her nonfat latte.
“You’re looking chipper this morning,” George observed as Penny took her usual perch two seats down from him. He was reading the newspaper, and there was a stack of discarded classifieds on the stool between them.
“I’m feeling chipper this morning, thank you for noticing.” She certainly was now, after that eye twinkle Caleb had given her. She might be able to get used to this new normal between them.
As Penny watched Caleb work the espresso machine, she wondered if he’d been smiling at her with his eyes all along and she’d just never noticed. She usually tried to avoid looking directly into his eyes because they were too dazzling. She had a tendency to get hypnotized by them and lose her train of thought. It was much easier to play it cool around him when she didn’t focus on his uncannily gorgeous face.
Maybe his eyes had been twinkling at her all along and she’d completely missed it. Was it possible she’d been misreading him all this time? Or was the eye twinkling new behavior, like his sudden interest in talking to her?
When he pulled a mug out of the warming rack, she caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his right biceps peeking out from the sleeve of his T-shirt. It was some sort of writing, but she’d never been able to see enough of it to decipher it. She thought it might start with a T. Or maybe an I. Possibly an L?
It could be a girlfriend’s name, or maybe his mother’s. Or the name of a deceased friend who died tragically and too young. Or perhaps a favorite childhood pet. That would be sweet. It could also be a bible verse or line of poetry. Or a song lyric. She tried to imagine what sort of lyric Caleb might choose to tattoo into his skin. Was he a Beatles guy or would he choose something more contemporary?
Penny considered asking him about it, since they were being all chummy now. But she feared it might be too personal. They’d only just begun their expedition into the world of small talk. Inquiring about the body art lurking under his clothes felt like an abrupt escalation.
She leaned forward as Caleb poured the milk into her latte, fascinated by the way he could create pictures out of surface tension and fluid dynamics.
“How did you learn to do that?” she asked.
