The Coffee Shop by Lauren Hunter

just reminded me of a bar.”
    “Oh, so you have actually set foot inside a bar then?”
    For a second, Annie stared at him. “The way you said that just now. If I hadn’t, would that make me.” She paused.
    “Make you?”
    “Something to be avoided or, I don’t know, laughed at.”
    “No, oh God, no. I never meant anything by that. I was just kidding around with you.”
    She pulled back one of the chairs and sat on it, looking at him over the counter. “Yes, if you must know, I have actually graced the inside of a bar a couple of times.”
    “Oh, and when was that?”
    “When my underage cousin dragged me there.”
    Derrick laughed. “She sounds like fun.” For the briefest of seconds, she was hurt by his comment, but she smiled and looked to the counter, drawing her hair over her ear.
    “I can give you her number if you like.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “What I said just now. That was really insensitive of me. I was trying to impress you with my humor and wit, and it just came across as callous.” Drawing his hand across his face, he shook his head. “I’m doing it again. Trying to say all the right things and clumsily saying all the wrong things. So, I apologize for being a moron.” He shrugged. “How’s that?”
    She smiled. “It’s okay. It looks like you are planning on making something here.”
    “Yes, I am going to make seafood fettuccine Alfredo.” He motioned to the stove, various ingredients littering the countertop next to it.
    “You have done this before, right?”
    “Why do you ask that?”
    “No reason,” she answered.
    “Oh, no. You don’t get away with making a remark like that, that easily.”
    “I just didn’t realize that cooking was one of your many talents.”
    “It’s not. How did you know?”
    “You seemed, I don’t know, uncertain.” She was sure she made him nervous. “Hey, I’m a lousy cook. But between us, maybe we can make this work. How does that sound?” She moved over next to him, looking at the ingredients laid out before her.
    “If you insist. And, yes, I suppose I could use all the help I could get.” He pulled out the recipe he had printed off the Internet and propped it up against the wall at the back of the counter. “Wait a minute.” He turned to face her. “Weren’t you supposed to cook me a meal the night I came over?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’ve just admitted you can’t cook. So, what were you planning on feeding me?” He took a step back. “Let me guess, you were going to bring home something already cooked and put it into dishes as if you’d done it yourself.”
    “No!” She gave him a playful shove. “Although, that is a great idea. I’ll have to remember that. No, there is one thing I am good at, probably because it’s not that hard to make, and I’ve done it so many times.”
    “Let me guess, macaroni and cheese?”
    “How did you know?” She grinned. “No, it’s a dish my mom used to make. I used to help her and…anyway, let’s see what we can do with this recipe here.”
    “You’re not going to tell me?”
    “I’d like to keep it a surprise.”
    “Oh, so you’re planning on inviting me over for dinner again?”
    “I’d considered it.” She waved her hand. “I did promise you a dinner, and you wound up having pizza instead. Let’s face it, I was a terrible hostess.”
    “You couldn’t help it. You could have told Angela no, but you wouldn’t leave a friend in the lurch like that. I admire that about you.”
    “You, admire me? One of the most successful men in the country has admiration for a health food store clerk?”
    “Didn’t you say you just stocked the shelves and dusted?”
    “You would bring that up just now, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yeah, I would.”
    She sighed loudly and shook her head. “Give me that recipe, sir.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the printout.
    “Okay, it says here to cook the fettuccine.” She lowered her voice. “No, I’m going to eat it