Page 18 of An American in London

Gail said Ben’s offices are in the same building as the bank’s and that she sometimes sees him in the lobby. Ginny says he goes into Coffee Confide in Me every day. It shouldn’t be too difficult to “coincidentally” run into him. Although with my luck, I’ll never see him again.

Chapter Eight

It’s Sunday, so I’m late getting to Coffee Confide in Me. My conversation with Melanie is still replaying in my head. It didn’t occur to me she’d think agreeing to be Ben’s pretend fiancée was a good idea. I’m worried I’ve done the wrong thing, that I should have said yes. Melanie’s right—the money would be really useful. But if he thought I was a stalker before, if I track him down and tell him I’ve changed my mind, he’ll probably have me arrested. I’m going to need an espresso chaser this morning.

Ginny with the bright-red hair is on again, and she beams when she sees me. I know this isn’t her normal greeting—she’s British, after all. I expect a grunt that’s supposed to pass for hello or a tense smile.

“It’s you,” she says, her eyes widening. “Filter Coffee Guy has paid for your coffee.”

It’s like my brain is upside down in my head today. I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. So I order. “Can I get a venti cappuccino two extra shots, half almond milk, half oat milk, a shot of caramel, extra foam, and cinnamon sprinkles?”

“Absolutely. I was trying to remember what you had before. I forgot about the almond milk and the extra foam.” She calls out the order, still grinning at me, like we’re in on a joke or something. “Can you believe he paid?”

“Benpaid?” I ask, making sure I haven’t misheard her. I’m distracted watching the barista put all almond milk into my coffee, but I don’t say anything.

“Yes. Are you going to go speak to him?” She lifts her chin toward the tables at the front of the store.

Everything tips into place. “Ben’s here?”

I snap my head around to find the man himself staring back at me. My heart trips and skips. I’m half nerves, half anticipation. But I have to chew the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning. I shouldn’t feel this excited to see this grumpy British dude who’s pretty much a stranger, even if it gives me a second chance to say yes to his offer of twenty grand.

I look back at Ginny and she’s still grinning. “Go and speak to him. At least to say thank you for your coffee.” She nods vigorously. “He’s clearly waiting for you. It’s so cute. If you two end up getting married, you absolutely must have me as a bridesmaid. I insist. I don’t care that it might be weird because we barely know each other.”

“Happy to agree to that,” I say, moving to the pickup station. I glance back at Ben’s table and he’s gone. My stomach plunges as my opportunity to change my mind about his offer goes with him. The coffee was a nice apology.

I turn back to wait for my coffee and electricity buzzes through my jacket sleeve as someone touches me. “Hey,” a gravelly voice says, and I don’t need to see him to know Ben didn’t leave.

“Hey.” I turn to face him. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He nods. “Do you have five minutes?”

I have the entire day, but I don’t tell him that. I ditched the Stonehenge idea given the journey time. I’ve decided to take a bus tour around London today; my Daniel De Luca quest is on hold while I do some straight tourist stuff. I can’t come to London and miss the big attractions because of my movie-star crush.

“I do,” I say and feel my cheeks burn at the reference to marriage. “You’re a client, after all.”

He guides me back to the table he was at previously and pulls out a chair. Is that a British thing? Jed never pulled out my chair, and it had never occurred to me that he might until now. I take a seat and pull off the plastic top of my coffee cup before taking a sip. Oh, I can taste those extra shots of espresso. Hopefully, I’ll find the words I need.

He sits opposite me and pulls in a breath. In the beat of silence, I enjoy watching him—the contours of his cheekbones, the strong jaw, that glossy black hair that looks like he’s got his personal hairdresser three feet behind him, making sure it’s entirely perfect at all times. “I wanted to apologize about the other night,” he says. “Nick is a little ... He sees a problem, then a solution, then he just wants to get on with it.”

I nod. “I got that about him.”

“It’s useful.”

“He works for you?” I ask.

“He used to. Then he set up on his own, so I pay him three times as much to do the same thing as he did when he was working for me.”

“He’s smart,” I say.

The corner of his mouth lifts, and warmth floods my chest at the thought I’ve been able to elicit a smile from him. “You’re right. But he can be like a bull in a china shop at times. I’m sorry you were—”

“The china?” I suggest.

“I hope you’re not entirely broken by the experience.” He clears his throat, as if completely uncomfortable discussing my potential brokenness.

I smile. “Not broken at all. I was on a high shelf, watching while I enjoyed a lovely dinner.”With a pretty view,I don’t say. He really does have the most beautiful eyes.

He nods. “Glad to hear it.”

---