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“Fine,” I agree as I hear her yawn again. “I’ll let you go. Goodnight, freckles.”
She chuckles. “Goodnight, Number Eighteen.”
Finally, I’m able to chill the fuck out and exhaustion catches up with me. After locking up, I plug my phone in by the bed, and climb under the covers.
Chapter 11
Emma
I’m late. Not that kind of late, late for the day. My alarm didn’t go off and now I’m rushing around trying to get ready. To top it off, I’m out of K-cups, which means no coffee. I need coffee. Slipping into my gym shoes, I grab my purse, make sure I have my phone, and rush out the door. Only to turn back to make sure that I locked it.
Have I mentioned I hate being late?
Sliding behind the wheel of my Jeep Wrangler, I place my phone in the cup holder, sling my purse on the passenger seat, and pull out of the drive. I’m lucky that my job doesn’t require me to be all snazzed up. Case in point. I have on a pair of leggings, a T-shirt with my work’s logo, and gym shoes. I tied my mass of dark curls on top of my head, and didn’t bother with makeup. I hardly see anyone during the day anyway, just my boss, most of the time her husband, and their son. I have no one to impress.
Checking the clock on the dash, I calculate that I have just enough time to stop at the Seaside Café for my morning coffee, and because I’m going to be there already, I might as well grab one of their famous cinnamon coffee cake muffins. They are life! If they didn’t go straight to my hips, I’d stop by every morning. Alas, they do, so I stick with indulging about once per month as a treat. This month, I’m splurging twice.
It’s just a Seaside Café kind of day.
I wonder if Aubrey wants anything? I hit the phone icon on my steering wheel. “Call Aubrey,” I announce, and dutifully my beloved Jeep dials for me. The way my day has started, I can’t chance taking my eyes off the road.
“Morning, sunshine.” Her chipper voice blasts throughout the car.
“Hey, I woke up late.”
She laughs. “There goes your mood for the day.”
“Har har, and to think I called to see if you wanted anything from the Seaside Café. I’m out of coffee at home, so I might be a few minutes late.”
“Definitely stop. We all know how you are without your coffee,” she teases.
“Harsh,” I say, barely containing my own laughter.
“Banana nut muffin, please, and I’ve already had two cups of coffee.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’ll be bouncing off the walls. Besides, I’m trying to cut back on my caffeine, you know, in case we decide to have another baby. Going cold turkey is hell.”
“What? Are you trying?”
“Nah, but we’ve talked about it. We want more, so it’s only a matter of time. We’re settled into the new house, so yeah… I wanted to get a head start.”
“I’m so excited for you. All right, I’m almost there. We’ll talk more when I get to work.”
“Take your time,” she says before saying goodbye. I hit the button on the steering wheel to end the call as I turn the corner.
The place is packed as usual for this time of day and I have to park at the end of the block and walk. I’m pressed for time, but my mouth is already watering for that cinnamon coffee cake muffin and coffee. I must have coffee.
As I push open the door, the smell of baked goods and yummy coffee surrounds me. There are so many different scents, I can’t name a single one. The only way I can describe it is delicious. My stomach grumbles as I take my place in line. All of the small tables are taken except for one, in the back corner of the café. Now, if I was staying to eat, that’s the table I would choose. I’m not antisocial, but I like to people watch, fly under the radar so to speak. A small corner table to devour cinnamon goodness would suit me just fine.
Speaking of people watching, I can’t help but notice the man standing in front of me. My eyes rake over him in appreciation. Sure, it’s just the backside, but impressive all the same. He’s wearing one of those compression shirts. It’s a royal blue color, and forms quite nicely to his muscles. A pair of black basketball shorts hang from his hips, and I can only imagine he’s one of those with the V—you know, where the shorts or holy hell, even sweatpants hang just right. The thought has me licking my lips, for more than just a cinnamon coffee cake muffin.
The line moves forward and so do I. My feet move on their own accord as I stare at his ass. What is it they say? So firm you can bounce a quarter off it? Yeah, this guy fits the bill for sure. I take another step forward, only this time the line’s not moving. “Umpf.” My hands fly out and press against his back to keep myself from falling. “Shit.” I immediately remove my hands from his toned muscular back, but I can still feel the heat of his body on my palms. He turns to look at me over his shoulder and I gasp.
