Page 5 of Building Romance
“Love you, Fletch,” she says.
“Love you, too,” I reply as we hang up and I walk out onto the street.
I walk down the block to one-eleven Hearts Lane. I glance across the street and see a small café, but it’s not the competing business that draws my attention, it’s the mess of red hair atop the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. The woman doesn’t see me. She’s busy making a coffee drink and talking to a man at the counter. I stand transfixed for a minute, unable to turn away.
“Checking out your competition?”
I turn and see Al. Smiling, I hug him, patting his back before pulling away.
“How are you?” I ask as I stand back and look at him. He’s aged, but he still looks like the same kind man I remember from my childhood.
“You know, getting old,” he answers with a laugh.
“Well, you look the same to me,” I reply. And I’m not lying. The man hasn’t changed a bit in nearly twenty-five years. My brothers say his hair was more brown when we were little, but I only remember him from the time I was in first grade. That’s when Gran Ha would pick me up after school three days a week so we could work on my reading. I had dyslexia and she had a degree in special education. And as a treat, I got to sit in on my grandfather’s poker game on Thursday nights. Al was always my favorite of his friends.
“Guess all the walking keeps me young.” He points to a trail at the end of the street. There’s a park there and it looks inviting. “Care to join me?”
I shrug. “Why not?” I say as we begin to walk.
“So tell me, what is the great Fletcher McDowell up to these days?” he asks.
I chuckle and fill him in as we walk along a river down to a pond. By the time we make it back to the street, I’m feeling better. Al didn’t say much, just listened, and I think that’s what I needed, someone who is willing to listen to me, no judging, just listen.
“No ladies in your life?” Al asks as I see him to the door of his apartment building that he owns.
“Nope,” I reply, glancing over at the café to see the redhead rolling some dough on a marble counter. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear and I get the overwhelming urge to want to touch that hair. I quickly look away. I’m being crazy.
Al follows my gaze. “That’s Cam. She just bought the place recently. It’s the neighborhood favorite.” He leans forward. “I’m on Team Cam’s Café, by the way.”
I laugh. “Is that so?”
He nods. “I love your family, but that little café has so many memories for me. Edith loved it.” He gives me a sad smile as he says his late wife’s name.
“I remember. Didn’t Phyllis own it?” I ask, remembering the owner’s name.
“She did. She just retired a few weeks ago,” he explains.
“Oh.” I had figured Phyllis would retire soon and close shop, but it appears my competition is remaining. Al raises a good point. It’s a neighborhood hot spot. I need to figure out a way to make us different from this café. And that means, I need to scope it out.
“Well, I need to get back to the office,” I say as I shake his hand.
“Good luck, kid. I think you’re going to need it,” he calls out with a smile as he walks inside his building.
I smirk. “I don’t think I will. The best part of being underestimated is that no one sees you coming,” I murmur to myself. I look back over at the woman. “Prepare to go down, Cam’s Café.”
CHAPTER THREE
Cam
It’s pouring outside and I watch as a hooded man walks briskly across the street and opens the door. He shakes his coat a little and pulls the hood back slightly. And hot damn. He is very attractive. He’s tall and has dark hair and pale blue eyes. He has thick dark lashes that would make any woman jealous. He’s muscular but not in a Hutch or a Kasen way. Why my two friends feel the need to constantly pump iron at the gym is beyond me. My brain momentarily short-circuits and I imagine this mystery man lifting me up and slamming me into a wall as he devours my mouth.
Pull it together! I chastise myself.
“What can I get you?” I ask.
His hair is a little wet and has a slight curl to it. He pushes it back off his forehead and glances up at the menu behind me.
“I’ll have a medium salted caramel pistachio latte,” he orders. His voice is…well, I want to ask if he narrates spicy romance books because if he doesn’t, he should.
