Page 6 of Hot in the City
“I called it off last night. We spoke for a long time, about everything. I told her I had a revelation. I don’t want to leave Melbourne. My music’s going great guns, I like this job and I’ve got a nice apartment. She’s a top girl, but this is my home. She understood. I don’t think she was surprised, after all.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I told her there’s this woman. Someone I’m interested in.”
Her head instantly snapped up, her spine straight, at full attention. “Really? Someone you’ve known for a while?”
His expression softened, so warm and melty. “I’ve known her a while, but only in passing. I’d like to get to know her better. A lot better.”
With that heart-stopping comment, he stood, pushed the chair back into the table. Walked away and disappeared behind the counter. A line of customers waited to place their orders. He must have left them waiting. To talk to her.
The remainder of her half-hour break blurred into a series of images in her mind. Samuel watching her under his lashes from behind the gleaming espresso machine. His smile when he opened the door for her that afternoon, when he’d been waiting for her. The curve of his firm denim-clad butt as he walked away from her table. She couldn’t help that one slipping into her mind. The image was on frequent replay in her imagination.
When she left, the weather had changed for the better. The sun had popped out from behind the steel grey clouds, lighting up the city streets in golden reflections. There was even a faint rainbow, watery looking, but definitely there.
She made a wish and turned on her heel.
Friday
A new day, a new start
Open up a man’s heart
Give me a sign
And I’ll make you mine
The upbeat song in her earbuds was perfect for her mood. She’d danced along the footpath, hardly noticing the darkening skies. Then she stopped in front of the blackboard, breathing in the poem like it was oxygen, vital to her survival. He’d put himself out there with those words, now he was asking her to do the same.
She hadn’t mistaken his intentions yesterday, had she? His intentions? She’d been reading too much Jane Austen again.
Well, she wasn’t a straight-laced Regency lady, sitting around drinking tea, waiting to be swept off her feet by a proper gentleman with a proposal. She was a little shy, it was true. But she wasn’t a tea drinker. She liked coffee, and liked it strong, and when she knew what she wanted, she went for it. Just like with her writing, despite Pete and her boss and most of her friends telling her she was a fool for pursuing it.
She wanted Samuel. Wanted him like she wanted caffeine. But more so. She wanted to be with him like she wanted to write—with passion, with joy, for always, or as long as humanly possible. That was something.
Pushing open the door, she got inside without a hitch today. No stuck door. But also, no Samuel waiting for her. Pausing just inside, she scanned the long copper-panelled counter, the half-full tables by the windows, the leather-lined booths back near the kitchen. Hoping to find him hovering by one of the tables or walking through the swinging doors.
A young woman with blonde dreadlocks, wearing some sort of paisley kaftan, was on the register. She counted the money in the till, placing coins into plastic bags ready for banking. Beth wandered over to stand directly in front of Goldilocks.
She drummed her fingertips on the edge of the counter. “Hi, um, is Samuel around?”
“You must be Beth. Gorgeous woman with strawberry ringlets. He got that right.” Goldilocks winked. Okaaay.
Wait a moment. Were those Samuel’s words? He called her gorgeous? Little sparks of electric joy blew their fuses and warmed her whole body. Lighting her up.
Goldilocks tipped her head to one side, then grinned. “Sammy had to finish early but he’ll be out in a sec. Take a seat. I’ll bring your usual over.”
Beth moved on auto-pilot, waiting to see what would happen next. For a creature of habit, this was all out of whack. Surreal. All Salvador Dali clocks melting over her landscape. Too much going on, too many bite-sized servings of crazy.
She plonked herself and her bag in their usual spots, retrieving her notebook and pen.
What could she say to him? Scribbling down notes, she plotted lines of dialogue more suited to a speech or a play. Too forced, too contrived. She crossed out what she’d written, trying to imagine the expression in his eyes when she asked him out. Prickles of anxiety poked at her insides, churning her stomach.
What if he said no? What if the woman he was interested in turned out to be someone else? She’d look like an utter nuff-nuff. She’d probably have to find a new café to haunt. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Goldilocks appeared, coffee and chocolate truffle in hand. Without a word, she delivered the order, and left again with a wink. Beth devoured her truffle in only two bites. She needed the chocolatey goodness. Her coffee was fine, if a little plain. No love heart artwork today.
A few minutes later, she slowly packed up her things and glanced at the kitchen door. He wasn’t going to show. Just when she’d worked up the nerve to ask him out, he’d left without even saying hello, or goodbye. She wandered to the front door, buttoned her coat and focused on the world outside through the window. Her heart sank with the view. Overcast. Showers. Raining on her parade. Of course.
Then, warmth wrapped around her with that distinctive spicy scent. His large hand on her shoulder warming her through layers of clothes. A jolt to her heart, his voice, smooth and so very male. “Beth. Wait.”
He was here. Glancing over her shoulder, she took in the stunning view. He was close enough to see the tiny stubbly hairs on his jaw. His eyes sparkled with fascinating metallic glints.
