I then sit down on the bench, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade before I untie my skates, taking one off and then tucking it under my bench, followed by the other one. I slip my feet in my plastic slides and, when I’m undressed, head to the shower. If it wasn’t a two-hour practice and I hadn’t been off ice before, I would probably attempt to go home and shower, but not wanting to kill anyone I come in contact with with my stench, I decide to shower at the rink.
I’m dressed in basketball shorts, a white T-shirt, and my baseball hat turned backward when I grab my phone and my keys. “See you tomorrow, boys,” I say before I walk out of the locker room and toward my SUV. Clive is there at the valet stand as he spots me and tosses me my keys. “I moved it.” He motions with his chin toward the front of the row. “You’re welcome.”
“I got your son’s opening-day tickets,” I tell him, seeing him smirk. “You’re welcome.”
I pull the Land Rover’s door open and get in before starting the engine. I hold up my hand toward Clive, who gives me a chin up before I pull up and the garage door opens. I pull out of the parking lot, looking at the radio. I see it’s just after two in the afternoon. Knowing Kylie is going to be at the office until about four, I decide to head over to the small coffee shop I like. I have to circle the shop twice before I can park five doors down.
I lock the doors and head toward the coffee shop, walking past a flower shop, Pilates studio, and a doggy daycare, most of the dogs sniffing the front window, right next to the coffee shop. Talk about torturing animals, I think to myself as I pull open the pink door. The bell on the top of the door rings. I look around, seeing the five tables they have are mostly open, only one is taken.
I head toward the pink counter that matches the door and look in the display case, seeing homemade apple, carrot, blueberry, and chocolate chip muffins on one shelf and then the good stuff under it. There are fresh giant cinnamon rolls right next to a pile of danishes and then under those are the croissants: chocolate, almond, and regular.
The woman walks out of the back, wiping her hand on her apron at the same time someone comes out from the side. I see the dark hair first as she looks forward and then turns to look at me and our eyes meet. “Lexi.” I’m the first one to speak. She stands there, mid-step, her mouth open as she stares at me. I step away from the counter and go to her.
“Kirby,” she says, shocked. Shocked and nervous from the looks of how her chest is rising and falling. “This is…” She shakes her head, no doubt trying to find the same words I’m trying to find.
“Holy shit.” I chuckle. “It’s you. You’re here.”
“I’m here.” She finally snaps out of her daze and laughs. “I was next door doing Pilates,” she says and I finally take in her outfit. She’s wearing tight yoga pants in like a dark blue, almost black, and a cream-colored long-sleeve zip jacket. The sleeves are pulled up to her elbows while the zip is halfway, showing me she’s wearing the same-colored tight top under it. My eyes immediately go to her left hand to see if she’s wearing her wedding ring, but it’s hanging by her side and I can’t see it. I’m almost tempted to grab her hand and look at it, but then I think about how crazy that would make me seem.
“This is…” I shake my head. “It’s very unexpected to see you here.” My heart speeds up. “Do you want to sit down and have a coffee with me?” I blurt before I can think too much about it, turning to face the empty tables. I have never been this nervous in my whole fucking life.
She inhales and shakes her head. “No.” My heart plummets to my stomach and I’m sure, after I ruined her night, she’s never going to talk to me again.
“Okay.” I try not to sound as devastated as I feel. “Fair enough.” I smile at her, trying not to turn and storm out just to get away from doing more damage to whatever this is by kissing the ever-loving shit out of her. “It was good to see you.” I stare into her eyes. I nod and turn to walk out of the shop without even getting anything.
I’m two steps away from her when I hear her voice. “That’s it?” I turn back to look at her.
“Well, you said no.” I put my hands on my hips. “So yeah, that’s it.”
“Wow,” she says, moving to the front of the counter and to the girl who has been waiting for my order and watching this awkward exchange. “I was waiting for you to dare me.”
My pulse picks up again and I move back to stand beside her at the counter. “Fine,” I concede, trying not to smile too big. “I dare you to have coffee with me.”
She puts her hands on the counter right in front of her. “Ugh, if you put it like that, then I guess I’ll have coffee with you.” She shakes her head and finally lets out a little laugh. “Hi.” She looks at the barista, who now is trying to hide her smile. “I’m going to have an iced coffee with whole milk.” She looks over to the display case, eyeing the cinnamon rolls.
“And she’ll have one of the cinnamon rolls.” I order for her and she looks up at me smiling.
“I really shouldn’t,” she says and I laugh.
“You should eat whatever you want,” I tell her and the girl behind the register smiles at us.
“Do you want that warmed up?” the girl asks her and her eyes light up. I swear I’m going to buy her cinnamon rolls every single day, just to see that smile on her face.
“Yes, please,” she replies, and the girl reaches for a pair of silver tongs before she places one of the rolls on the plate and then turns to put it in the oven.
She presses a couple of buttons before coming over to me. “What can I get you?”
“Can I have an iced shaken espresso?” I order. “No milk, no sweetener.” She nods her head and I hear noise coming from beside me and turn to look at Lexi.
“That sounds so gross.” I can’t help but laugh at the cute face she’s making. “Why didn’t you order something to eat?”
“Did you see how big that roll is? It’s the size of your head. I don’t think you are going to finish it.”
“I’m not sharing with you.” She gawks at me. “You asked me to have coffee with you. You didn’t say let’s have coffee and share a cinnamon roll. Besides”—she turns and leans her hip into the counter—“I’m going to take home the rest and have it in bed later tonight while I watch my reality television.”
“You won’t share even a bite with me?” I ask her and she just shakes her head. “I’ll take my chances.” We stare at each other, the lightness of her eyes making them pop even more.
The girl comes over and places the tray down in front of us as she tells us the total. “If you reach for your wallet,” I threaten, grabbing my own wallet from my pocket, “I’m definitely going to take a bite of your cinnamon roll. I asked you to have coffee with me, I pay. Next time you ask me to have coffee with you, you can pay.” I hand the girl my card and she takes it, swiping it on her machine, and then handing me the white receipt. “Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll bring the tray over.”
