“Does he even still live in the States?” I pulled up his social media accounts to check.
“No, he doesn’t.” A familiar, soft voice interrupted our thoughts. “He lives in Europe now. For the last couple of years, actually.” None of us realized it was our turn to order until Hazel was in front of us, charming as ever.
She had a long-sleeved dress under her black apron, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, fastened with a ribbon the same soft blue as her dress. A few loose curls framed her flushed cheeks, and sunlight from the front windows caught in her eyes, turning them bright and clear, like reflected sky. She greeted us with her usual warm smile.
“What can I get you guys?”
“Three black coffees, one espresso,” Ethan replied, then, without missing a beat, added, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He teaches at the University of Lisbon now. Why?”
“We’re brainstorming ways to collaborate with authors for a product launch,” Ethan explained.
“Cool, but I heard he’s busy writing a new book this summer.” Hazel put four cups of coffee and cinnamon right next to mine. The corner of my lips lifted in a smirk. She noticed, rolling her eyes, and switched back to Ethan. I felt that eye-roll being saved in my core memory for rainy days.
“Damn, Watson would be perfect for this. Maybe we should consider him,” Ethan said, grabbing his coffee as we moved to our usual booth.
“We need more options. We can’t pin everything on him for Williams’ pitch. Although it’s convenient that we’re heading to Portugal. Maybe we’ll run into him at a beach.”
“Right, because drunken beach encounters scream professional planning,” I replied dryly.
We brainstormed for the next twenty minutes, bouncing around ideas for authors and publisher strategies. At some point, Logan joined us.
Even though I could sell anything, this project was my favorite. Meeting publishers and authors and learning about new releases felt like blending my hobby with my work, fueling my passion for what I do.
“Hey, Hazel!” Ethan called, waving at her like a caveman, as she was cleaning the tables behind us. She approached, bringing that sweet scent of mango with her.
“How do you know so much about Portugal?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Bring sunscreen or the sun will kill you,” Ethan mocked her tiny voice.
“Oh,” she laughed. “I studied there a couple of years ago,” she smiled, and then said,“Eu também fiquei bem bom em português.”
“You speak Portuguese?” I asked. An image of her strolling through sunny streets with books in hand appeared in my mind. Sitting in the park reading, traveling, and making other guys turn when she passed by with her enticing scent. Weird emotions stirred inside me.
“A little. One of the—” she paused thoughtfully, “—most transformative times in my life.”
We went quiet for a moment until Hazel noticed the growing line of customers.
“Sorry, guys. I’ve got orders to take.” She turned and disappeared behind the counter as quickly as she’d come.
Silence hung over the table for a beat.
“We should invite her to Portugal,” Alex said suddenly, catching us all off guard. Or maybe just me.
“After you all threw me under the bus yesterday?! No, thank you,” I said.
“Hey, nobody told you to invent a girlfriend. We just rolled with it,” Ethan said, laughing in my face.
I wasn’t a violent man, but sometimes I was ready to kick them off a cliff.
“If you could control your women and stop planning my wedding, maybe I wouldn’t have to make stuff up. Besides, I didn’t name anyone specific.”
They all laughed, enjoying my rare frustration.
“She could be our guide and translator. Plus, she’s not a stranger,” Logan said, somehow making a good point when irrational excuses would’ve worked better for me. I’d lost control of the conversation.
