Normally I’d just walk to the coffee shop if the weather is nice, but it’ll be late when I get home, so I decide to drive. Plus, I’m in a suit, and I don’t want to be a sweaty mess. If I leave now, I’ll have time to get a cup of coffee and sit down inside and wait. Not wanting to leave my car at the coffee shop and risk being towed, I decide to leave it at the twenty-four-hour parking garage around the corner from the shop and walk the short distance.
Chapter 13
Jefferson
Ican’tbelieveit’scometo this. Hiring a man to be my plus one for this fucking dinner party. It’s not about how much it costs to do it, but that it should be Malcolm going with me. Now is the time I should be happily introducing him as my boyfriend. One step closer to calling him my fiance, then husband.
Instead, I rented the first guy on the Foxy’s site that caught my eye. If it weren’t for Graham, I wouldn’t even know about it. He swears by the service they offer, stating he’s used it himself. They are discrete and will go along with whatever story I tell them. Not that I plan to give anything more than he’s my date for the night. A new interest, so to say.
He wants to be picked up at a coffee shop. Odd choice, but I see it as an opportunity to maybe talk a few minutes before we have to head out. At least then this won’t seem so awkward.
Luck is on my side, and I find a parking spot right out front and pull into it. Once I’ve turned the car off, I flip down the visor and take a final look at myself before heading inside. I know exactly what Bradley looks like. I stared at his picture longenough as I debated about going through with this. He’s young. But age has never really mattered to me.
Time to head in.
The moment I push open the door, I’m met with a wave of warm, rich aroma that wraps around me like a soft, comforting blanket. The scent is unmistakable—freshly ground coffee beans, dark and toasty, laced with subtle hints of cocoa, caramel, and something just a little smoky. It’s a fragrance that warms your heart and calls you home. I take a deep breath, the faint bitterness of espresso and the buttery whisper of pastries warming behind the counter tickling my nose.
I head straight for the counter and order my drink of choice, Caramel Macchiato with almond milk and an extra shot of espresso. Not sure what Bradley drinks, I take a shot in the dark and order the same for him. I’m not sure if he drinks coffee this late or even at all. I’m just taking a hunch he does since this is his pick up spot.
As I look around the coffee shop, it has a decent crowd, a wide mixture of ages. Though there are only a few that look to be about the same maturity as me.
“Jefferson,” a soft squeaky voice calls.
I turn toward the girl at the counter and nod, smiling brightly at her, and pick up both cups of coffee and find a seat facing the door. When he walks in, I want to be able to see him. Even if I didn’t know what he looked like, I’d be able to pick him out. There’s no one other than me wearing a suit here. I sip on my coffee as my knee bounces nervously under the table. I don’t know why I’m anxious. It’s just a contract date, nothing more. But it’s not a date with Malcolm and that’s what I know is truly bothering me.
I see a shadow pass by the window, stepping just past the wall out of my sight. Looking down, I check the time on my watch. I’m fucking twenty-five minutes early. Just as I’m about to takea sip, the door opens and in steps a blond man with tousled hair, almost as if he just ran his fingers through it. His eyes are a stunning, cool grayish blue that only complement his fair skin complexion. I don’t get to peruse him any further as his eyes scan the room, landing on me.
Bradley.
He looks even better than the picture on the website. With a broad smile, he heads my way, stopping at the edge of the table, holding out his hand.
“Hi, I’m Bradley. Do I have time to grab a coffee, or are you wanting to head out now?”
“I actually got you one. Not sure if you’ll like it, but I just got two of what I drink.” I hold the cup out to him, realizing I didn’t introduce myself. “I’m Jefferson, but seeing how you came over and you have my picture, you know that. We have some time. I thought I’d show up early, so we have a few minutes to talk about tonight.”
“Thank you.” He takes it from my hand, lifts the cup to his lips and takes a swallow. A smile appears when he lowers it. “It’s perfect. And it’s still warm.” Bradley takes hold of the chair in front of me, pulling it out so he can sit.
I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so young. Memories of myself at that age flash in my mind like a movie. I shouldn’t be this at ease. This was supposed to be a buffer between me and the pitying looks I’d get showing up alone. But instead, here I am—buying him coffee, smiling like an idiot, and trying not to notice how good he looks.
“So, what’s the dinner party for tonight? Am I playing a role or just a casual date?” he asks me, resting his arms on the table as he cradles the cup between his hands. “The email just said you were looking for a plus one for the event.”
“It’s a charity event. A lot of companies I do business with will be there. I didn’t want to go alone so all the matchmaking do-gooders wouldn’t be trying to set me up. There will be dinner, dancing and a silent auction. I wouldn’t have gone, but it’s for a good cause.”
He quirks his head to the side, his eyebrow raising. “What’s the charity?”
“It’s for helping families with children suffering from cancer.” I clear my throat, already feeling the knot forming. “My younger brother had Leukemia, so it’s close to my heart.”
“I get it. How old was he?” His voice is hesitant as he asks, almost as if he’s unsure if it’s okay to question me more about it.
“Jackson was seven. I was ten. He was my best friend. and watching him suffer was hard.”
I can feel the tears forming. The only person I’ve ever talked about Jackson with, other than my family, was Malcolm. He knew how traumatic it was for me to watch him slowly wither away. Instead of being an active kid, running around the yard, playing ball and getting into mischief, he spent his time in and out of the hospital getting treatments.
Bradley reaches out, placing his hand over mine, and squeezes it. A genuine sign of compassion he didn’t have to show.
“I’m sorry. But the bright side in the tragedy of his death is the years you had with him. That’s what my Nana told me after my parents were killed when I was a kid. I blamed myself for their death for a long time because they were coming to get me.”
His hold is everything I need to know. He’s experienced pain much like my own.
