explore future romantic possibilities on her own.
She was getting ahead of herself, anyway. Coffee was coffee,
not marathon sex. Dammit.
“Coffee and conversation is known to cure ‘new to me’, I’ve
heard.” Terri smiled wanly at her and cuffed her shoulder. “I know you’re out
of practice, but I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Terri,” Neve whined.
“You’re right, it’s not my business. You should go and have
a good time, and I’ll shut up about it.” Terri frowned all the same, as though
fighting to give her blessing. “See how far you get past the coffee. You’ll be
awake for it.”
“No, I plan to order decaf.” Neve bent close to peck Terri’s
cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.” She ducked away before further talk
with her friend served to change her mind about Judy.
Corky and Judy chatted while Neve gathered up her purse and
car keys. The two apparently had mutual friends and similar tastes in music.
They debated the quality of a recent concert they had attended separately.
“Ready?” she asked Judy, who smiled warmly from the table
and nodded. All at once the aura of doubt set by Terri’s skepticism faded.
Coffee and conversation did sound good on this cool evening.
So did a lot of things.
* * * * *
“How did you come to open a bakery? Was it something you
always wanted to do?”
They sat at a tiny round table at Buzzhouse, their chairs
lodged into a corner near the front door. Neve grimaced at the rising cacophony
of chatter and acoustic guitar, for the music made conversation a challenge. At
least the bearded young man onstage—totally hipster with his dark fedora and
button-down plaid shirt—played well, belting out a Dave Matthews tune in a
butter-smooth voice.
Neve curled her hands around her mug, inhaling the sweet
vanilla and cream of her latte. “I love to bake, simple as that,” she said. “My
mother got me one those Easy-Bake Ovens when I was a kid. Usually once you run
out of the mixes that come with the kit or the light bulb burns out, you stop
playing with it. I didn’t stop—I was baking cakes and cookies for my Barbie
dolls, and next thing you know I’d graduated to the big oven and had a business
in high school.”
“Really?” Judy appeared impressed. “What, you had a booth
out in the senior courtyard?”
“No, girls would pay me to make cookies and brownies, which
they’d use to lure boys. Of course, they’d claim to have baked everything
themselves.” Neve laughed at the memory of money changing hands behind desks in
Home Ec. “In the end, they all got prom dates and I bought a car.”
“That’s hilarious.” Judy nearly choked on a sip of her drink
from her merriment. “I wish I was that clever in high school. And now.”
Neve watched the young woman dab at her mouth with her
fingers to catch a stray drop of coffee. For a moment her gaze paused on Judy’s
lips—she hadn’t taken the time to really look at them, and now she noticed
their fullness and deep color, without the benefit of makeup. The coffee
no doubt brought a touch of pink to Judy’s cheeks as they warmed up in the
café, but Neve decided she wouldn’t mind being caught in the cold with her. She
might have an excuse to move closer to conserve body heat.
What level of warmth, too, would she experience bringing her
lips to Judy’s in a quiet kiss? People filled Buzzhouse, and many of them had
their chairs turned toward the guitarist. If she leaned forward, who would
notice or care? The way Judy looked at her now, smiling and eyelids half-closed
in a demure expression, only encouraged her.
“Hey there!”
Neve’s heart jumped. A chipper young woman in a Buzzhouse
apron slid down into the vacant chair, exhaling loudly with exhaustion. “Man, I
must have made a hundred lattes in the last half hour. These music nights are
great for business, but I can’t keep up with the orders.”
Judy introduced the young woman as Rachael, who took Neve’s
hand
She was getting ahead of herself, anyway. Coffee was coffee,
not marathon sex. Dammit.
“Coffee and conversation is known to cure ‘new to me’, I’ve
heard.” Terri smiled wanly at her and cuffed her shoulder. “I know you’re out
of practice, but I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Terri,” Neve whined.
“You’re right, it’s not my business. You should go and have
a good time, and I’ll shut up about it.” Terri frowned all the same, as though
fighting to give her blessing. “See how far you get past the coffee. You’ll be
awake for it.”
“No, I plan to order decaf.” Neve bent close to peck Terri’s
cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.” She ducked away before further talk
with her friend served to change her mind about Judy.
Corky and Judy chatted while Neve gathered up her purse and
car keys. The two apparently had mutual friends and similar tastes in music.
They debated the quality of a recent concert they had attended separately.
“Ready?” she asked Judy, who smiled warmly from the table
and nodded. All at once the aura of doubt set by Terri’s skepticism faded.
Coffee and conversation did sound good on this cool evening.
So did a lot of things.
* * * * *
“How did you come to open a bakery? Was it something you
always wanted to do?”
They sat at a tiny round table at Buzzhouse, their chairs
lodged into a corner near the front door. Neve grimaced at the rising cacophony
of chatter and acoustic guitar, for the music made conversation a challenge. At
least the bearded young man onstage—totally hipster with his dark fedora and
button-down plaid shirt—played well, belting out a Dave Matthews tune in a
butter-smooth voice.
Neve curled her hands around her mug, inhaling the sweet
vanilla and cream of her latte. “I love to bake, simple as that,” she said. “My
mother got me one those Easy-Bake Ovens when I was a kid. Usually once you run
out of the mixes that come with the kit or the light bulb burns out, you stop
playing with it. I didn’t stop—I was baking cakes and cookies for my Barbie
dolls, and next thing you know I’d graduated to the big oven and had a business
in high school.”
“Really?” Judy appeared impressed. “What, you had a booth
out in the senior courtyard?”
“No, girls would pay me to make cookies and brownies, which
they’d use to lure boys. Of course, they’d claim to have baked everything
themselves.” Neve laughed at the memory of money changing hands behind desks in
Home Ec. “In the end, they all got prom dates and I bought a car.”
“That’s hilarious.” Judy nearly choked on a sip of her drink
from her merriment. “I wish I was that clever in high school. And now.”
Neve watched the young woman dab at her mouth with her
fingers to catch a stray drop of coffee. For a moment her gaze paused on Judy’s
lips—she hadn’t taken the time to really look at them, and now she noticed
their fullness and deep color, without the benefit of makeup. The coffee
no doubt brought a touch of pink to Judy’s cheeks as they warmed up in the
café, but Neve decided she wouldn’t mind being caught in the cold with her. She
might have an excuse to move closer to conserve body heat.
What level of warmth, too, would she experience bringing her
lips to Judy’s in a quiet kiss? People filled Buzzhouse, and many of them had
their chairs turned toward the guitarist. If she leaned forward, who would
notice or care? The way Judy looked at her now, smiling and eyelids half-closed
in a demure expression, only encouraged her.
“Hey there!”
Neve’s heart jumped. A chipper young woman in a Buzzhouse
apron slid down into the vacant chair, exhaling loudly with exhaustion. “Man, I
must have made a hundred lattes in the last half hour. These music nights are
great for business, but I can’t keep up with the orders.”
Judy introduced the young woman as Rachael, who took Neve’s
hand
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