Six weeks. Six weeks she’d been coming to this coffee shop, and every day, she told herself that this was the day.
The day she would talk to the cute barista instead of just staring at him.
Lillian took a deep breath and opened the door, scanning the counter as she stepped inside. There he was, standing by the espresso machine. That same unruly curl flopped over his forehead, but otherwise, his dark hair was neatly parted to the side.
He wore a blue plaid bowtie today. Yesterday it had been red. And the day before that it was yellow. She probably shouldn’t notice such things, but she did. Like the suspenders he always wore over a crisp dress shirt and the notepad he kept in the pocket of his apron. But what had caught her attention the most was the way his glasses always perched precariously on his nose. Somehow that had made him even cuter and more approachable.
Somewhat.
She’d never been able to croak out more than a “Thank you.” But today she’d talk to him. Ask him about the weather or his day to start the conversation and then say something witty or cute to get him laughing.
He handed a cup to an older gentleman in a suit. They talked for a moment before the man lifted his cup in parting and headed for the door. The line moved forward, and her barista began chatting up a harried-looking mother with a double stroller.
Lillian shifted her weight to the other foot. Now was not the time to feel nervous. Just one more patron, and it would be her turn. It would be fine.
She rehearsed her lines one more time.
I’m in the mood for something different today. What do you suggest? Oh, I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re an expert by now.
The mother stepped aside as the barista worked on her order.
This was it. Any minute now, he’d step up to the register and—
“What can I get for you?”
Lillian looked up at the perky brunette behind the counter and fought the urge to scream. “Um…” She stumbled through her usual order as her shoulders slumped. She always came during a slow time at the coffee shop, and her barista was always the only one there. Now, when she’d finally gotten up the courage to talk to him, someone else had stepped up.
Maybe next time.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the brunette walking up to her barista. He glanced over his shoulder at Lillian, smiled, and then nodded to the brunette.
Lillian’s heart stuttered in her chest. What was that about?
The brunette disappeared in the back again, and the barista turned and handed the other customer a cup and turned back to the espresso machine. Lillian tried hard not to bounce on her toes. Maybe all was not lost.
She went to the small station at the side and grabbed some napkins to hide her nervous energy. All she had to do was smile, say “Thank you,” and make an observation about the weather. Or maybe she could still make the same comment. Ask if he had any suggestions for next time.
Napkins in hand, Lillian turned back to the counter. The barista put a lid on her cup and turned just as the brunette appeared again. She plucked the cup from his hand and set it on the counter.
“Have a great day,” she said before disappearing again.
Lillian swallowed her disappointment and picked up the cup. Making a beeline toward the door, she berated herself for ever thinking she’d even shore up the courage to make conversation, much less get the chance to. But when she lifted the cup to take a sip, something caught her eye. Where her name normally would be, it said, “I wish I had the courage to tell you you’re beautiful.”
Her steps slowed. Halted. Was she given the wrong cup by mistake? No, that couldn’t be. She was the last customer in the coffee shop.
She looked over her shoulder, and her gaze met his. He stood at the counter, his glasses askew and his hair standing up. And before she knew quite what she was doing, she marched back to the counter, held out her hand, and said, “Lillian Greene.”
He smiled and shook her hand. “Adam Lancaster.”
“What are the chances you can teach me to make a decent cup of coffee?”
He leaned closer. “Nil. ‘Cause then you wouldn’t come in here anymore, and that’s the highlight of my day.”
Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Mine, too.”
Adam glanced toward the back where the brunette had disappeared and then leaned closer. “I get off in an hour. Any chance I can treat you to something more substantial than a cup of coffee?”
“It’s a date.” The words slipped out before she could bite them back. What if he was just being nice?
But the way his face brightened quashed that fear. “Perfect. I’ve been trying to get up the guts to ask you out for weeks now.”
“Well, I’ve always thought the way to a girl’s heart is through a cup of coffee.”
