Page 5 of Common Grounds

Mike is looking at me as if I’m one of those abandoned puppies in those late-night animal adoption commercials. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Don’t you think if there was a way, it would have appeared by now?” Mike asks.

A woman running down the sidewalk catches my eye. She’s wearing a light pink blouse, a black pencil skirt, and shiny, mile-high heels. Her blue-black hair trails behind her as she weaves in and out of the growing crowd of people on the sidewalk. I track her progress for so long that Mike swivels in his seat to see what I’m looking at. When she disappears around the corner, he slowly shifts his gaze to me, looking positively amused.

“She was hot.”

I groan and scrub my cheek with my hand, my palm catching on the stubble I’m too preoccupied to shave. “Lay off.”

He leans back, a self-satisfied look on his face. “Face it. If you had someone in your life, you’d spend a hell of a lot less time worrying about this shithole—”

“Watch it.” I shoot him a warning glare.

“My bad. This establishment. You need a lady in your life, man.”

“Says the man who is chronically single,” I grumble.

He looks at me pointedly. “Single by choice. I know you’ve always wanted a partner. Maybe it’s time to get back out there. Your love life has really fizzled out since you took over this place.”

“I’m forty years old, Mike. Don’t you think if there was a woman for me, she would have appeared by now?” It’s one of my favorite things, parroting his words back at him. It grinds his gears, and I’m rewarded for my efforts by his heavy sigh and low growl.

“You know,” he says slowly, “if you spent a little more time out there, and a little less time in here, you might find a woman worth your time.”

I roll my eyes. He’s always on me about this, and it’s not worth a response.

“Listen,” he says, angling toward the table. He spares a glance for the coffee cup on the table, grimaces, then pushes it to the side so he can lean in fully. “A few of my buddies from the office are going out tonight—”

I hold up a palm to stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. “I have zero interest in grabbing drinks with a bunch of software engineers.”

He genuinely looks offended, even though we’ve been down this road a thousand times before. “What’s wrong with software engineers?”

One would think this particular profession would be full of a bunch of soft-spoken nerds, but the startup Mike works for is somehow populated by guys just like him. Maybe like attracts like. Or maybe the company’s ping-pong table in the break room attracted them. Either way, when you get a little alcohol in them, they get rowdy and obnoxious, which is not the crowd I want to spend my Friday evening with.

“Fine.” Mike leans back in his chair with finality. “Spend another night in your sad apartment by yourself worrying about what else you can sell or downsize to keep this place open. Sounds super fun.”

“You make a great point. Even if I wanted to come out with you tonight—which I don’t—I couldn’t afford it, anyway.”

He flashes me his blindingly white, mischievous smile. “I have it on good authority that these software engineers you have such contempt for make a ton of dough. Drinks are on me. You know that.”

I press my lips into a fine line as I regard him. “Are you going to let this go?”

His grin gets impossibly wider. “I’ll put it this way. I’m more determined to get you to come out with me tonight than you are to keep this place from bleeding your bank account dry.”

“You’re a funny guy, you know that?”

He stands, coming around the table and clapping a hand on my shoulder. “See you in a few hours.” He makes his way to the door, resting a hand on the doorknob and turning to face me again. “Oh, and stop at home first and grab some clothes that don’t have coffee splatter all over them, huh?”

I throw a wadded-up napkin in his direction, but it falls short as he cackles and leaves.

Chapter three

Emery

Vi and Cass live in an adorable two-story on the outskirts of Baker’s Grove with a view of the downtown skyline in the distance. Not that it’s much of a skyline. I mean, sure, there are some cool buildings, but the city is too small to be of any real interest, in my opinion. And yet, their real estate agent sold it to them as a home with a view, which worked, I guess. Their perfectly manicured yard—Violet’s pride and joy—is framed by beautifully tended rose bushes and a cobblestone walkway from the sidewalk up to their house. Vi is an excellent gardener and uses most of her spare time to tend to their landscaping.

I spitefully shove their front door open just before eight o’clock and step into their dark entryway. “Vi? Cass?” I call, flipping on a light.

“Shhhh!” Violet comes around the corner, shushing me. “Cass is napping.” She’s changed her dress to one with dark, moody florals. Her short, purple hair is curled and frames her face perfectly.

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