Page 26 of Common Grounds

“Sure.” He clearly doesn’t believe me. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”

“The good news,” I say without hesitation.

Ethan frowns. “You’re supposed to want the bad news first so the good news ends the conversation on an upswing.”

I tilt my head, my brow pinched. “Why did you give me the option if you knew what you wanted, then?”

“Because no one ever asks for the good news first.”

“I do.”

“Okay, well, the bad news is Emery isn’t coming.”

I stare at him for a moment, blinking a few times. This might actually be the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.

He sighs deeply, as if I have exhausted him beyond his capacity for human interaction. “The good news is her pitch was accepted. Sort of. She has to write four articles about this place in four weeks and drive one million unique viewers to the website in that time.”

“That’s great!” I exclaim.

Ethan makes an “ehh” noise and tilts his head back and forth in a maybe-maybe-not motion.

“I thought you said this was good news.” I raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, well, you’ve got me there. It’s better news. It might be great news for you and your little shop here. But one million unique views over four articles is…” He grimaces. “Let’s just say she’s going to have to work very hard.”

The corners of my lips turn down in thought. “But it’s not impossible.”

Ethan looks at me as if I’m a rare animal he’s never seen before. “Are you, like, always this unfailingly optimistic?”

I huff. “Pretty much. It takes a certain level of delusion to think I can turn this sinking ship around, anyway.” When he continues to gape at me, I clap my hands. “So, what can I do to help? Does Emery need more information from me? She wasn’t here for very long last night—”

“I don’t know if Emery is going to be here very often. Or maybe at all. That’s probably a blow to your self-esteem, but she’s not really interested in dating.” He holds his hands up and shakes his head as if to stop me from asking why, which I wasn’t going to do. “I’m not going to go into it. That’s her story to tell. But suffice it to say, she’s still got some open wounds from the last guy she got serious with. I can’t tell you more, so don’t even ask.”

“Okay…” I draw the word out.

“Seriously. Don’t,” he insists.

“I’m not.”

“Good. Because I’m just here to take some pictures.” He sets his bag down on the table and opens it. He pulls out a camera and a lens and attaches them together. Then, he lifts the camera and takes a few shots, adjusts some settings, and takes a few more. “Okay. Do something… coffeeshop-ish.”

I rub my chin. “Like what?”

He gives an exasperated sigh. “How should I know? Something that will look good above the fold on the first article. Make a latte or something. Roll up your sleeves and show your forearms. Ladies love that.”

I raise my eyebrows but comply. “I’m feeling a little objectified,” I say as I start rolling up my shirtsleeves so my forearms are exposed.

“You’ll be fine,” Ethan says dismissively as he clicks his camera a few times. He pulls it back to look at the pictures, his tongue sticking between his lips as if he’s deep in thought. “Yeah, great. The lighting in here is perfect. Really highlights your cheekbones.”

I balk at that. It’s not the blatant commentary on my looks that bothers me, exactly. But I wonder how seriously he’s taking this if he’s only here to catalogue my features. “I fail to see what my looks have to do with my coffee.”

“So go ahead and make some coffee, then. A hazelnut latte, maybe.”

I lean forward slightly. “Do you want a hazelnut latte?”

Ethan clicks the camera a few times. He hums approvingly when he checks the photos, then brings it back up near his face. “No.” He eyes me over the camera. “But Emery might.”

I can’t help it. My smile stretches across my face at the thought of her drinking something I’ve made her, and Ethan conniving to make sure she gets it. I get started on the drink to the soundtrack of the camera over the ever-present folksy music coming through the speakers.

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