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The proper—the holy—response was gratitude.
THERE WAS Abright light on Addisyn’s face. A single, intense beam, like a spotlight. She was at a competition, the most important one of her life. But as she stood alone on the ice, she couldn’t remember a single step of her routine.
From the front row of the audience, Brian scowled at her, ugly anger twisting his features. Addisyn wanted to run from the rink, but then she found her feet couldn’t move. She was stuck to the ice—unable to escape the accusing finger of that bright light, laughing at her failure.
As Addisyn’s eyes flew open, she shot to a sitting position on the bed, panting with the emotion of the image. Glancing wildly around the room, she squinted against the glare of the sunshine streaming in the window.
Her heartrate began to settle as she shook her head, trying to detangle reality from dream. She wasn’t glued to the ice—she was safely in Whistler. And there was no unfriendly spotlight, just the bright sunshine on her face.
Wow, had she really been so tired that she’d fallen asleep in her clothes? Evidently. She rubbed her scratchy eyes, then massaged the back of her neck. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her face felt greasy from the all-night makeup exposure. Great. What a way to start this excursion off.
Well, a hot shower and some fresh clothes would rejuvenate her. Yet as Addisyn finished dressing thirty minutes later and shook the excess water droplets from her hair, she realized her soul still felt flat and heavy. She paused in front of the mirror and peered at her eyes. They looked uncertain—lonely—scared. Defeated.
Losing had that effect on her.
With a frown, she turned from the mirror and paced aimlessly across the floor. She felt as dizzy as if she’d just wrong-footed a combination spin. What was she doing here? The reality of her isolation struck her with the force of a freight train. She was alone in British Columbia for an indefinite period of time with a limitless number of unspecified options. What could be more bewildering?
Hysterical laughter suddenly bubbled upwards. “Well. Here I am.” Her announcement echoed in the empty room. The giggles continued—born out of sheer nervousness. The air around her seemed as ominous as the silence before applause.
Pull yourself together!First things first—she was starving. What if she went and had breakfast in one of those cute coffee shops? Well, why not? Whistler was a tourist town, and right now, that’s all she was—just a tourist on a somewhat unconventional vacation.
No need to bother with her usual long makeup routine. Addisyn grabbed her purse from the nightstand and wriggled her feet into the suede boots from yesterday. They might not have been designed for snow, but they were the warmest footwear she had. Plus, they always gave her confidence.
And she needed plenty of that.
Love You A Latte.Addisyn smiled at the clever wordplay over the door of the little coffee shop. She stepped beneath the pink-and-white awnings and peered through the glass door. Well, why not get breakfast here?
A bell over the door tinkled as she entered, the delicious fragrance of coffee and spices welcoming her. The wood floor was a deep brown, and the sun splashed through the windows onto the Corian countertop. One young woman with frizzy blonde hair darted about, preparing some elaborate concoction for a tall guy leaning on the counter. Addisyn slid him a cursory glance. She could just see that he was wearing a heavy nylon coat, jeans, and a beanie over shoulder-length black hair.
“Here you are, sir. One Cuban latte.” With a bright smile, the barista handed the cup to the man and turned to Addisyn. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I’d like a glazed donut please. Chocolate.” Addisyn grinned inwardly. Glazed chocolate donuts were taboo for future Olympians. She was definitely going to enjoy this breakfast. “And—” Well, she’d never drunk coffee before, but wasn’t the whole point of this trip about disassociating from her past life? “I’d like a cup of coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young girl gestured to a blackboard scrawled with an overwhelmingly abundant list of choices, most of which were unfamiliar to Addisyn. “What kind?”
“Uh...” Addisyn stared at the board, scanning the list of names. What was the difference between a mocha and a latte? How did you pronounce either one? “Uh...I want...an espresso.” The words sounded lame even to her.
The girl smiled, a bit patronizingly. “Well, actually all our coffee is espresso. It’s a brewing style.”
Addisyn felt heat squirming up her cheeks. Here she’d been in Whistler for less than twelve hours, and she was already embarrassing herself. “Um...I guess you can tell I don’t know much about coffee.” She gave a weak laugh.
“If I may suggest, get the Cuban. Cuban latte, demerara sugar, tiny splash of vanilla. It’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Startled at the voice behind her, Addisyn spun around to see the guy in the nylon coat. His close-cropped dark beard parted, and he smiled disarmingly. “Trust me on that.”
Addisyn couldn’t find words to reply. Her eyes were tracing the man’s face, studying his features. It wasn’t his good looks that had caught her attention; it was his familiarity.Where have I seen him before?
“The Cuban?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The guy had a reassuring way of speaking, steady and smooth and at ease. He held up his cup. “Promise you. It’s the best ever. I drink one every morning before work.”
“That he does.” The barista smiled at him, clearly appreciating his handsome appearance.
“Okay, then.” Addisyn cleared her throat. “I’ll take the, uh, Cuban latte.” She turned back to the guy. “Thanks for the hint.”
“No problem.”
Surely he would leave now, but instead, he took a sip from his coffee and smiled at her again. Almost as if he were waiting for her to say something else.
