Page 11 of A Secret Chance
“How about four black coffees.” Lauren had cream and sugar at the office, the Caldwell executives could doctor up their own coffees.
“Coming right up.” Megan turned to pour the coffee.
Lauren checked her watch; she was cutting it close. Those executives should be the ones bringing the coffee, she thought to herself as she pulled out a ten-dollar bill. She looked around the coffee shop and saw mostly familiar faces and waved when she saw Freddie and Serena at one of the tables in the back. She paid for the coffee and pulled on her mittens as Megan passed the tray to her.
“Thanks, Meg,” Lauren smiled.
“You’re welcome,” Megan replied.
“Hey, Meg.” Lauren paused. “If you ever need a break, I might be a little rusty, but I’d love to spend some time with a baby, so would Tabby.”
Megan’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Lauren. I might take you up on that.”
“Please do.” It was a genuine offer. Lauren would’ve killed for a few hours off here and there when Tabitha was young.
Lauren paused to say hi to Serena and Freddie and then headed out the door. Lauren was thankful that the sidewalks had been freshly plowed as she hurried along in her boots. The sidewalks could be treacherously icy during the in-between phase when Mother Nature was still trying to decide whether it was fall or winter.
Today, it was winter, and she was focusing on keeping her feet underneath her. She heard heels crunching on the hard-packed snow behind her, their owner marching at a faster pace than she was. She moved to the side to allow the speed walker room to pass. “Thanks,” the woman said breathlessly as she squeezed by, also carrying a tray of coffees. Lauren glanced down and saw that the woman was wearing expensive leather boots, with a heel far too high for the sidewalk conditions. Lauren shook her head, even her sister had retired all of her impractical footwear from her Chance Rapids closet.
Lauren’s focus was abruptly drawn back upward as the woman screeched. The scene in front of her went into slow motion, the tray of coffee shooting up into the air, the lids flying off the cups as steaming coffee rained down on the sidewalk. Now freed from the coffee tray, the woman’s hands flailed wildly, grasping for anything to save her, as her feet, first the left, then the right, flew up over her head.
Her hands found Lauren’s coat sleeve and she grabbed on with a death grip. The momentum from the woman’s body crashing to the ground pulled Lauren to her knees. Lauren tried to hold the tray of coffee upright but lost the fight. The two of them crumpled to the ground amidst a sea of steaming coffee.
Lauren sat on the sidewalk blinking as she assessed the level of damage. She grimaced as she pressed up from the ground to a half-kneeling position, breathing a sigh of relief as she realized that nothing was broken. She rubbed her ass, her tailbone wasn’t broken either, but it was going to be bruised. Thankfully, her sweater had absorbed most of the hot coffee, and its clammy warmth clung heavily to her chest.
Two sets of expensive shoes appeared, and she felt strong hands slip under her arms, helping her to her feet. “Are you okay?” The girl groaned as she was helped up.
“I’m fine, just a little...” She pulled her coffee-soaked sweater away from her chest, “wet.”
“Oh no.” The girl’s eyes went wide as she took in Lauren’s cream-colored sweater that now featured a dark brown avant-garde looking coffee splotch.
Lauren brushed the snow off her arms. “It’s okay.” The girl obviously felt terrible, and Lauren tried to shrug off the incident, even though one of her best sweaters was ruined.
The man who had helped her up was bending down again, picking up the empty cardboard cups that had been rolling around on the sidewalk. “Let me replace the coffee. It’s the least I can...” As he stood up and turned to face Lauren, the cups slipped out of his hand and clattered back down to the ground.
Chance Rapids was full of good-looking men, but this man was the hottest guy she had seen in years. Her heart started hammering hard against her ribcage. Amongst the sea of rugged mountain men sporting plaid coats, this clean-cut man with eyes the color of ice staring at her from behind thick-rimmed glasses, stood out like a sore thumb.
“It’s alright,” Lauren bent down to pick up the cups. “I know the owner,” she smiled.
“Absolutely not,” the second man, the oldest of the group, stepped in between them. “Come on, Nicole, we’ll get more coffee.” He dragged the red-faced girl back to the café.
Left with the Clark Kent doppelganger, Lauren noticed that the man’s bottom lip was quivering. Was he cold?
“Your sweater.” He pointed to her chest.
She gripped her wool coat closed with her mittens. “It should come out.” She knew that it wouldn’t. The sweater was ruined.
“Is that cashmere?” he asked.
“A blend,” Lauren sighed.
“Did you get burned?” His eyes kept flitting down to her chest, but Lauren understood why.
“No, thankfully the fibers absorbed most of the liquid before it could reach my skin.”
“I’m so sorry.” He looked at his watch. “Come on.” He grabbed her by her hand, and Lauren stiffened at the unexpected touch.
“Oh.” He looked at his own hand like he couldn’t believe what it had done. He let go of her hand like it was burning hot. “Let me buy you a new sweater.” He pointed to the outdoors store across the street. “We can find one there.”
