Page 36 of Long Story Short

She didn’t mind when I showed up last night with cake. I told her I wanted to deliver food, so surely she won’t mind when I show up in the morning with coffee. Hopefully, she was up late working. Hopefully, she felt inspired.

The door swings open, and I’m immediately met with Josie’s wide smile. “I was wondering if I imagined you telling me we were going to have breakfast together.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m too swept up in how incredibly beautiful she is this morning to form words. She wears a pale yellow sundress. The hemline hits the tops of her thighs, reminding me that last night, my fingers were pressed against the same spot.

I force my gaze away from her thighs and look up, finding that the dress ties around her neck with thin yellow strings.

Josie watches me with a soft smile. She’s pulled her hair back with a simple white headband, and I’ve truly never seen such a beautiful woman.

“Tyson…” Josie says my name slowly, the smile on her lips slipping as she tilts her head to the side.

I straighten my spine. “I brought coffee,” I announce. I grimace, trying not to focus on how I should’ve greeted her or responded to her statement. Instead, I word-vomited the first thing that came to mind because I was too busy reeling from her beauty.

Josie laughs. “I see that. Are you expecting more than just us? That’s a lot of coffee.”

I look at the trays in my hands. I see where she might question my reasoning for showing up with eight coffees. “I didn’t know what kind of coffee you liked, so I ordered all their specials.”

Josie presses a hand to her chest as she stares at me with her big, beautiful hazel eyes. “You did what?”

“I didn’t have your number to ask you what kind of coffee you liked, and I was too nervous to make a guess, so instead, I asked the barista to make one of each signature drink.”

“What if I just like my coffee black?”

My neck feels hot as I process her words. “Do you really just drink your coffee black?”

She smiles and opens the door even wider. “Nope. I love a sugary coffee. Come inside and tell me my options.”

I let out a sigh of relief as I follow her inside. The moment I step through the door, Mouse is greeting me by weaving in and out of my legs as I follow Josie into the kitchen. He lets out meows of protest for every step I take instead of kneeling down to pet him, but I focus on getting the coffees inside safely without spilling them before turning my attention to her cat.

Josie carefully takes one of the trays from me as we come to a stop next to her counter. I set the other tray down and look at the cups and the names written on the sides of each, trying to remember what each one had in it.

I stare for a few moments. I know the barista told me exactly what each coffee was, but now that I’m in Josie’s presence, I’ve completely blanked on what they are.

I scratch the back of my neck as my gaze meets Josie. “Can I be completely honest?” I ask, my voice low.

Her blonde eyebrows draw together on her forehead. “About coffee?” she asks cautiously.

I let out a nervous laugh as I run a hand over my mouth. “Kind of. I made the barista repeat to me what each coffee was made up of, and the name of it, so I could relay them back to you, but then I saw you in this dress, and I suddenly can’t remember a damn thing.”

Josie rubs her lips together as her fingers smooth over the fabric. “So you like the dress?”

“I love the dress.”

She looks down at it for a moment before training her eyes on me once again. “Good. Which one of these coffees is yours?”

I shrug as I turn my attention to the options. I was so focused on trying to figure out what she might like that I hadn’t even thought about choosing what I wanted. “I’m not picky. You pick your favorite, and then I’ll have one of the seven other choices.”

“I can’t believe you brought over eight coffees. I’m going to have to put that in a book.”

I scrape my hand through my hair as I meet her gaze. “Yeah?” I ask, not bothering to hide the hopefulness of my tone. “Does that mean you were able to get some writing done last night?”

She bites her lip and nods before she works on opening a straw. “Yes. And I wrote this morning too.”

Pride blooms in my chest. There’s a calmness to her demeanor this morning that seems new. Her shoulders don’t seem as tense as they have been, and she looks at me with what can only be described as a twinkle that wasn’t there before. “Does that mean you’re feeling inspired?”

She pops the straw in the coffee closest to her. “You could say that,” she answers nonchalantly before lifting the coffee to her lips and taking a sip. “Oh, that one’s good,” she mutters, before going in for another sip.

All I do is stare at her, waiting for her to elaborate on how much writing she got done.