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“Do you live here in Whistler?” She hoped the question didn’t seem impolite. Maybe she’d seen him on her first visit, though it seemed unlikely she would remember a chance encounter this long.
“Yep. I’ve lived here all my life.” He leaned on the counter casually and glanced out the window at the morning sunshine with pride in his gaze. “It’s a great place.”
Maybe he just had one of those universal faces. Not really, though. His eyes were especially striking, anything but ordinary. She’d thought they were green, but in the sunlight from the window, they looked almost blue.
“Ever been to Whistler before?”
A common question, but somehow, this guy had a way of making the dullest platitudes seem interesting. Or maybe it was just him that Addisyn found interesting. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, now how do you know I’m not from around here?”
“No accent.” The man winked at her.
“Caught.” She smiled lightly. “I’m from America. Just visiting.” She turned her attention to the barista as she claimed her order and fumbled in her pocket for some dollars, but she could still feel him watching her.
“America, nice.”
“Yeah.” If only she could mumble a magic spell and have a locker of witty banter at her command. This guy probably thought she was a half-witted dud. Not, of course, that it mattered. At all.
She took a sip of the coffee and smiled. The rich, nutty flavor seemed to sparkle in her insides. “Good coffee. Thanks for the tip.”
The morning sun reflected in his eyes as he smiled at her. He had a very attractive smile, slow, unhurried. And he tipped his head to one side while he did it. Addisyn couldn’t help but admire the effect.
He offered his hand. “I’m Darius Payne.”
“Nice to meet you—uh—Mr. Payne.” How old was he, anyway? He looked fairly young, but he seemed to carry a certain seriousness—melancholy, maybe—that didn’t match his years.
“Oh, call me Darius.” His beard parted in another dazzling smile. “And you are?”
Why couldn’t she think today? “Addisyn. Addisyn Miles.” She panicked for a moment. Had she just blown her anonymity? Should she have given a fake name? The next instant she chided herself for her unreasonableness. Really, how could some guy in another country have heard of her? He probably knew nothing about figure skating and cared even less.
“Well, Addisyn, the pleasure is all mine.” He stepped back, folded his arms. “Are you staying in Whistler long?”
“I’m—I’m not sure yet.” Could she sound any more pathetic?
He nodded politely. “I hope to see you around again while you’re here.” He backed toward the door, but his gaze never left her face. “I have to get to work. Bye.”
“See ya.” Addisyn waved, trying to seem casual. Watching the guy stride purposefully out the door and toward his car, she scrambled through her memory, searching for his face. There was some kind of mystery about him. She could just feel it. Good grief, now she sounded like her sister, with her crazy intuition. But still...
“Where in America do you live?” The barista’s question snapped Addisyn back to reality.
“Um...New York City.” Addisyn took a sip of her coffee to avoid answering anything more. Why did she feel more like an escapee from justice than a famous figure skater? The fact that she’d even considered going by a pseudonym made her feel six inches high.
“Cool.” The girl grabbed a rag from the cabinet behind her and began swiping the counter. Suddenly her elbow caught a stack of Styrofoam cups, which tumbled to the ground.
“Here, I’ll help you!” Addisyn bent and began gathering the cups. “Are these trash now?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.” The girl knelt to help her. Between the two of them, they quickly collected the mess.
“I’m super clumsy.” The girl dumped the cups in the trash can and brushed her palms together with an embarrassed air. “Happens all the time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Addisyn felt a little sorry for the barista. “Say, are you the only one working here?”
“Yeah, we’re shorthanded at the moment. My aunt owns this place, and she used to work here some, but she’s visiting some friends in Toronto for the summer. And there was a guy named Jeffrey that worked here, but he ended up moving to Ottawa to work for his cousin’s business.” The girl’s eyes brightened. “Hey, are you looking for a job? We need someone!”
“I—” The words caught in Addisyn’s throat. Of course she wasn’t looking for a job. Or was she? At some point she would have to have a source of income, but she didn’t even know if she were staying in Whistler long-term, and—she forced her brain to let go. These days, her thoughts were like a skein of yarn that had been dropped and become unwound—tangled and sinuous and never-ending. She lifted her cup to take another sip of coffee.
“I sure do miss Jeffrey.” Fortunately the girl seemed to have dismissed the job offer. “Not just because of the help, but because he was sorta cute. You know, in a way.” She giggled. “Not like Darius though. You know, I think you caught his eye for sure.” The girl jerked her chin toward the door where Darius had just left and winked coyly at Addisyn.
Somehow the coffee burned down Addisyn’s airway instead of her throat. She coughed violently. “I—what?”
