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Chapter Six
It was raining on Wednesday. It never rained in Los Angeles.
It had been overcast when Penny set out for Antidote on foot, but she’d assumed it was just marine layer like always. She changed her tune when the clouds started dumping water on her.
She was two-thirds of the way to Antidote, so she quickened her pace and kept going rather than turn back toward home. It couldn’t possibly rain for long; she’d just wait it out at the coffee shop.
By the time she ducked in the door, she was soaked to the skin.
“It’s raining!” she announced as she squeegeed water off her face.
“Yikes,” Elyse said.
“What are you doing out walking in the rain without an umbrella?” George asked, swiveling on his stool to frown at her. He was the only customer this morning. The rain must have kept everyone else away. Everyone with any sense, that is.
“It wasn’t raining when I left the house!” Penny shook out her arms, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. “It never rains in LA!” Her shoes were waterlogged and water dripped off her skirt onto the doormat like the drip line of a tree.
“Stay there,” Caleb said and disappeared into the back.
“Now you know better,” George said. “It only mostly never rains.”
Penny tried to squeeze the water out of her hair. It dripped down her back in a cold stream that made her shiver. “I used to check the weather every single day, you know. But it always said the same thing, so I quit.”
“Los Angeles rain likes to sneak up on you. And no one knows how to drive in it. You’re lucky you weren’t run over.”
Caleb came back with a stack of clean dishtowels. “It’s all we have,” he said apologetically.
“No, this is great. Thank you.” Penny grabbed one and toweled off her face and chest.
His gaze came to rest on her décolletage as she patted it dry. Thank goodness her dress had a bright, busy pattern, because the way it was sticking to her could have been very indecent otherwise.
Caleb cleared his throat and bent over to lay a towel out on the floor. “Step out of your shoes onto this.”
“I’m not allowed to be barefoot in a restaurant,” she protested.
“I promise not to call the health department on you—this time.” He put his hand under her elbow to steady her and nodded at the floor. “Come on.”
She let herself lean on him, her fingers closing around his large forearm—the very same forearm she’d gazed at longingly so many times—as she slipped out of her shoes. Too bad he’s wearing a sweatshirt, she thought as she stepped onto the dry towel, scrunching her wet toes in the cotton, or else I could be touching his bare skin right now. A shiver raced down her spine at the thought.
He thrust the stack of towels at her, then scooped up her shoes and began drying them off. She reached out to stop him. “Oh, no! You really don’t have to—”
He waved her off. “I don’t want to have to mop the floor behind you, do I?”
“I can do it! I don’t mind.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “Just dry yourself off.”
She did as instructed while he dried her shoes with the brisk efficiency of a valet out of a historical costume drama. It was both embarrassing and a huge turn-on at the same time. Penny blamed her longstanding crush on Mr. Carson from Downton Abbey.
When he was done, Caleb set her shoes on the floor and took Penny’s elbow again to help her step back into them. They were still damp and freezing cold, but at least they didn’t squelch like wet sponges anymore.
“You good?” he asked.
Penny nodded. She was holding on to his forearm again. His beautiful, thick forearm. She could feel the taut muscles even through his hoodie. She was great.
He let go of her and held out his hands for the damp towels. “Lavender latte?”
She nodded, smiling shyly. “Yes, please.”
