Slowly, his head turns in my direction as a grin tugs on his lips. “Excuse me?”
Rolling my eyes, I mindlessly spin the glass on the counter and shake my head. “Nothing.” He nods, the expression morphing to one of confusion. As he’s about to turn away, I can’t help but try to push this stranger’s buttons. “Your drink choice was horrible. I guess it was your dessert choice, since you ordered that second. Either way, it waswrong.”
“What are you? Some sort of dessert expert?” Amusement lights his features.
With a low snicker, I shrug. “Something like that, but I do know how to read a menu.” Quickly flipping through the one in front of me, I push it toward him and point to the listing.
Twisting his lips to the side, he admits, “I took that as a suggestion.”
“You’ll regret that choice.”
He eyes me, clearly enjoying the banter. “What would you recommend then?”
The bartender comes back with his drink and I lean forward to grab her attention. “Hey, can you add an order of the burnt orange crème brûlée please?”
Chuckling, she nods and walks away, tapping in the order. When I turn back to the stranger, his brows are lifted. “You just happened to be drinking the right one for the lemon posset?”
“Lucky you. At least you got thetypeof liquor right.”
“Does that count for something?” he asks with a cheeky smile.
I cross my legs, feeling smug. “No.”
After a second, the surprise wears off and he laughs. “Okay, you’re right. Don’t let me off that easily.” He raises his hands in faux surrender. “Teach me somethingnew tonight.”
“That’s the plan,” I practically purr as I slide my drink toward me.
My original plans for the night come back into focus, and I abandon the idea of leaving here alone when going a few floors up sounds much more enticing.
Chapter One
Calypso
One of the first things I had to get used to in my career were the hours. It’s only five a.m. but I’ve already finished my workout, taken a shower, made a smoothie, and driven to Brighter Daze. It wasn’t the easiest adjustment, but I’ve learned to love it.
Most mornings, nothing could ruin my mood. Not when I’m sore in that satisfying way that comes after an energizing workout, followed by making a perfect berry smoothie. I love the quiet drive to work and the empty streets before everyone else’s day starts.
It was supposed to be a good day.
The first letter on my mail pile sours my stomach immediately.
To: Calypso Davies
From: Stefan Prescott
Also known as my ex-husband and biggest regret.
I wish I could say this is the first time he’s tried to contact me, but I’ve received something from him monthly for the past three years—sometimes letters, like today, and other times gifts that I never keep.
At first, he swore he only wanted to talk, to check in on me. It still sends a shiver down my spine. Stefan got morepersistent after that, insisting that we could make our marriage work if I stopped my “tantrum.” I’m six years younger than him, and he never lets me forget it. He eventually calmed down enough to take a caring friend approach after that.
Tearing the envelope open, a bitter laugh rips from my throat.
It’s a wedding invitation.
The “make her jealous” approach; this is a new one, and certain to fail.
Word spread quickly that he was engaged, despite the fact that he moved back to San Francisco after our divorce. My first thought was,that poor woman.
