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“Can you blame me? You’ve seen her.”

“I have. Talk about winnin’ the genetic lottery,” Wren sighed gazing off into space. “And judgin’ by her clothes and the size of her tips, she’s loaded.”

“You know Compose, the software you use to edit your videos and music?” Ali asked as she put a lid on a cup, double checking the seal.

“What about it?”

“She’s the CEO.”

Wren’s movements stuttered mid-stir, mouth falling open before she blinked.

“Seriously? The fuck is she doin’ getting her own coffee? In our tiny coffee shop, no less!”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But, I won’t be complaining any time soon.”

“‘Course not. She’s nice to look at. Good conversationalist, too,” Wren rambled in her usual southern inflection, hands gesticulating. “She and her tips are welcome any time.”

A pleasant chime echoed as the door opened and the woman herself strode in. The clock on the wall read 7:05AM, right on schedule. Ali couldn’t imagine having her days structured to the point she arrived on time down to the minute, never wavering.

“Speak and she shall appear,” Wren snickered.

Blue eyes twinkled back at her, a slow easy smile spreading across her face. Even after so many months, looking at her almost hurt. She was that kind of pretty.

“Good morning, Ali,” Charlotte greeted in a sultry tone, making Ali’s toes curl.

“Morning! Latte for you.”

Ali slid the beverage across the counter as she approached, swaying hips hugged just right by slate-gray trousers.

Charlotte picked it up and looked at her name scrawled in black across the cup, a perfectly manicured eyebrow arching.

“No flower? No heart? No smiley face? No adorable doodle of any kind? Have I fallen so far from favor?”

Her tone light and teasing, lips curving upward when Ali’s laugh filled the air.

“Fear not. Someone has just been up to no good with her shenanigans this morning.”

Ali nodded her head to Wren, but Charlotte’s attention didn’t shift away.

Fighting the urge to bite at her own lip, Ali reached for a narrow paper bag instead, moving to the case of fresh baked goods.

“Blueberry or strawberry?” Ali asked.

“Blueberry. I’m told your friend made it past the first round of interviews,” Charlotte informed her, taking a careful sip of the hot beverage.

Ali had risked their tentative acquaintanceship to ask on behalf of one of her artist friends if Charlotte could get him through the door for possible consideration in the graphic design department. She agreed on the understanding he would have to make it through the process on his own merit.

“Really?! That’s wonderful! He’ll be so excited,” Ali responded, bagging the blueberry bagel and handing it over.

“I hope so.”

Charlotte lifted the bag to her nose inhaling the pleasant scent.

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s me who should be thanking you. I owe you one,” Ali rambled, ringing up the items on the register, spinning the terminal toward Charlotte so she could complete the transaction. “Literally. Anything, and it’s yours.”

Ali noted Charlotte’s head cocked just so, eyes bouncing back and forth, reading every micro expression.