Sizzling by Susan Mallery

Cal had opened. She'd stood
in line the very first day while Cal had worked the counter and
waited to see if his business would take off.

It had. Now
there were Daily Grinds all over the West Coast. The company was
expanding and giving Starbucks a run for its money.

Of course,
thinking about Cal's success made her own life look just a tad more
grim, she thought with a wry smile. Decisions were going to have to
be made. No, that wasn't right. She'd already made the decisions.
What she lacked was action.

The barista called her name and
she grabbed her coffee. It was time to give notice at The Waterfront
and go look for a new job. One where she would succeed or fail based
on her performance and not because of her family.

She turned,
only to have someone bump into her from behind. She glanced over her
shoulder and saw a pleasant-looking man backing away.

"Sorry,"
he said, shaking his head. "I zigged when I should have
zagged."

"That's okay," Dani said.

"Did
you spill?" he asked.

She liked that he visually
inspected her coat instead of taking the chance to touch her.

"No.
You look good." Instantly he took another step back. "Sorry.
I didn't mean to say that. Not that you don't look good. You do. But
I wasn't trying to compliment you. Not that I wouldn't want to, it's
just…"

He stood there looking so uncomfortable,
she momentarily forgot her rule of never again speaking to an
unrelated man under the age of seventy-five.

"It's okay,"
she said with a smile. "I totally know what you were trying to
say. My coat looks untouched by any form of coffee."

Relief
darkened his pale gray eyes. "Exactly. I didn't spill."

"Good."
Impulsively she held out her hand. "I'm Dani."

"Gary."

They
shook hands and she felt nothing. Not a spark, not a hint of a spark.
There was an absolute lack of sparkage. Thank God.

"It's
crazy in here," she said. "I'd try to avoid the rush, but I
don't know when that is."

"Me, either." A
couple moved toward them and Gary took a step toward her. "I'm
here several times a week for my cup of courage."

She
stepped into a less crowded corner. "You get courage from
coffee?"

"From the caffeine. I teach nearby and my
afternoon students are surly. This keeps me on my toes." He
raised his cup as he spoke.

He was the kind of man easily
overlooked and forgotten, Dani thought. Light brown hair, pale eyes,
pale skin. Slender. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. He seemed sincere
rather than charming, intelligent rather than physical. All good
things.

"What do you teach?" she asked.

"Theology
and math at the community college. Most of my students are taking
theology to fulfill a requirement, and everyone knows people hate
math. I should try to find a fun subject that everyone would
like."

"Is there one?"

"What did
you like in college?" he asked.

"Not math," she
said, then smiled. "You probably hear that a lot."

"I
can handle it."

"I took a lot of classes in
restaurant management. That's what I do now— work in a
restaurant. I've been an assistant to a chef for a while. I used to
manage a place in Renton. Burger Heaven."

He nodded.
"I've been there. Great milkshakes. Do you like being an
assistant to the chef?"

"I love working for Penny,
but it's time for me to make a change. That's what I was thinking
about when we bumped into each other. That I need to take the risk
and go for it. But I'm nervous. What if I fail? What if I succeed? I
can't…"

She stopped talking and stared at him. "I
can't believe I'm just blurting this all out."

"I
appreciate you talking to me, Dani. I'm happy to listen."

There
was something about the way he said it— as if he really meant
it.

"But I don't know you."

"Sometimes
we recognize a kinship in another person," he said.

If
any other guy had tried a line like that on her, she would have hit
him in the stomach. But the way Gary spoke the words made her think
he really meant them.

"Still, I don't usually dump stuff
on strangers," she muttered.

"I'm glad I was