“It has to be romance,” Kirsten adds in a whisper.
The kid clears his throat and smears a hand over his glistening forehead. “So…uh… meanwhile, Mason is on his way to pick up Brinley for the game. While he’s driving, he finds that his palms are sweaty against the wheel. His heart is pounding harder, too. He knows it’s because he has something to tell this woman he’s been slowly falling in love with, and he’s not so sure how she’ll take it.”
Oohs and ahs fill the crowd. I resist an eye roll and tip my head back to spot the action behind the counter. Hopefully, my coffee is coming soon; I have an old lounge chair and a big-screen TV calling my name back home. A sliver of disappointment burrows into my chest as I realize Maggie must have gone home. The irritating thing is I didn’t even realize I was lookingfor her. But more perplexing is the fact that I’m notrelievedthat she’s gone.
Ah, there’s Chantel holding a steaming mug with a white, frothy top as she heads my way. I’m about to get my hopes up when I realize she’s serving it in one of the house mugs, not a to-go cup.Great.
Well, maybe that one’s not mine.
But Chantel narrows her gaze on me. She nods toward the table, indicating her intent, then slides the delicious-looking drink gently onto the surface, causing the foam with its decorative swirls to tip and sway.
The crowd claps, and the host of this thing congratulates the couple on a job well done.
“It’s already paid for,” Chantel whispers, but I slip her a five as a tip.
“Thanks. You don’t happen to have a to-go cup around here, do you?”
The woman nods while refastening the strings on her apron. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back with that. Or if you’d like, I can pour it for you. It can get messy,” she warns.
I shake my head. “The cup will do, for now, thank you. I’ll sip this down a bit first.”
I lift the warm mug to my lips, blowing gently before pulling in a cautious sip.Ah, so good.Hopefully, I can get past the awkward energy between Maggie and me because I don’t think I’ll be able to quit this coffee. It easily beats the competition within miles.
“Okay,” the host says, “it’s time for our fifth and final couple of the night. This lastpair may have an advantage, having seen how it’s done by a handful of others, but thedisadvantage they have is the competition they must measure up to. Everyone’s been great so far, right?”
People clap and cheer, encouraging me to join along halfheartedly before taking another sip.
“A little birdy told me I should consult this couple right over there,” the woman continues. “You in the blue shirt and the gal in the white sweater.”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s pointing at Kirsten and Beau. I grin, deciding I might stick around after all. I’ll enjoy seeing Beau up there breaking a sweat while trying to entertain a crowd.
“What are your names?” she asks.
“I’m Beau, and this is my girlfriend, Kirsten.”
“But instead of coming up there ourselves,” Kirsten inserts, “I was hoping you could get my sister Maggie, the owner of this place, up there with this guy right here.” She reaches over to rub my shoulder. “His name’s Braxton.”
I shake my head, but already the crowd is cheering.
“That’s not a bad idea,” the lady says, combing over the crowd. “Maggie? Where are you?”
“She’s gone,” I offer. “And I’m just heading?—”
“No, she’s not,” calls a familiar voice from the coffee bar. It’s Chantel; she’s standing directly behind Maggie, presenting her like a lamb for the slaughter.
Maggie looks terrified. Eyes wide, face flushed, head shaking. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Don’tyou?” The woman with the mic asks before turning back to the crowd. “What does the audience think? Would youguys like to see the one and only Maggie Modella team up with this handsome gentleman over here?”
The crowd cheers in encouragement. Maggie’s cheeks burn brighter, and I can’t help but enjoy the fact that she’s suffering from embarrassment. As much as I dread the idea of sticking around any longer, I don’t fear standing in front of a crowd. In fact, for my senior year, I juggled both footballandtheater so I could be in the school musical with Laurie Meyers. We got the lead roles, which meant I got to kiss her. I felt oddly comfortable on stage, even if Ididhave to sing sappy love songs in front of my entire graduating class; deep down, I knew I was the envy of most guys, too; everyone wanted Laurie.
I shoot to my feet and turn my gaze on the reluctant woman in Chantel’s encouraging grip.
“I’m game if Maggie is,” I say, smiling for the crowd whose eyes dart between Maggie and me.
The group cheers louder.
“Oooh,” the host with the mic says. “Did you guys hear that? What do you say, Maggie?”
