The Perfect Indulgence

Back at Slow Pour there was a decent crowd for early afternoon on a weekend. Chris would like to think the small changes she’d made to the shop—with Eva’s permission, of course—had helped business. She’d drastically reduced the number of non-food-related items for sale, retaining only those with local ties or that sported the shop’s logo. In addition, she’d toned down the decor, removing some of the more brightly colored art pieces and several photos of her and Eva as kids at coffee plantations they’d visited with their coffee-scientist father. The result was a classier feel with better feng shui and more room for tables, as well as improved curb appeal to lure in people who were just driving through town.

Of course, she’d left the surfboard menu hanging over the counter. Chris wasn’t going to mess with something so sacred.

“You’re here early.” Summer beamed at Chris, looking radiant as usual, her teeth stunningly white, skin flawless and golden-blond hair a wavy mane she wore pulled back into a ponytail—the quintessential California girl. She was also, as Chris had found out, extremely smart and totally reliable. Plus she pulled one hell of a shot of espresso.

“I know.” Chris went behind the counter and headed toward the back office. “I thought I’d give you a whole two hours of paid vacation this afternoon.”

“Wow, really?” Summer’s light brown eyes lit up. “That would be great.”

“Yeah?” Chris grabbed her blue-and-white Slow Pour apron from the row of hooks outside her office. “You have fun plans?”

“Oh, no, not really. It’s just nice to get extra time off.”

Chris nodded, wondering why such a pleasant and attractive woman seemed to have no social life—at least, none she ever spoke of. Chris should give her time off more often. It was such a small thing, and spreading happiness and good vibes was rewarding for all concerned. “You’re welcome. Enjoy the time.”

A few customers came in as Summer was leaving, which kept Chris busy for a while, after which she had time to stand back and soak in the atmosphere. Old Chris would have been studying sales reports, worrying about how to improve business, brainstorming new blends, drinks and special bakery items. Now she just wanted to reflect on what she and her sister had created here, and bask in how the café was bringing so much pleasure to its customers and to the community.

A familiar figure caught her eye, winding through the outside tables, heading for the shop’s front door.

Zac Arnette.

Chris’s heart sped up and her breath hitched. Immediately she relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes as she took a long, healing breath. Zac had been away for a long time and now he was back. There was no reason for her to be anxious.

Zac was one of Eva’s best friends—in fact, they’d had a half-serious pact to get married if neither of them found anyone else by the time they turned thirty—but she personally found him overbearing and bossy and, at times, infuriatingly smug. He’d get an amused look on his face, as if he loved that she was struggling, loved that he’d gotten to her. It made her so—

Ahem.

Not to be blaming him for who he was, of course. She accepted that. She accepted her physical reaction to him, didn’t fight it, didn’t blame herself for it, even though she didn’t really understand why she reacted the way she did.

“Hello.” She smiled peacefully, aware of a few butterflies still trying to wreak havoc in her belly.

“Hello, Chris.” His blue eyes were warm and the butterflies started fluttering harder. Which was perfectly natural. Zac was a very handsome man. Too surfer blond for her taste—she liked dark East Coast guys with high energy and sharp edges—but...yes, very handsome. He looked a little like the guy who played Thor in the movies, but more real, less model perfect. Very, very handsome.

“You’ve been away awhile.” To her surprise, her tone was tinged with bitterness. Immediately she smiled more brilliantly to take away any impression that she cared that he’d disappeared for months without saying a word to her, although he’d filled Eva in extensively and often on the reason for and progress of his trip.

Which was fine. This wasn’t a competition. He had every right to do whatever he wanted. Chris accepted that.

“Family stuff.” He came right up to the counter. She’d forgotten how big he was. In her mind, Zac had shrunk to a size that wasn’t quite so intimidating. Her lungs were having a little trouble working again, and her heart refused to conform to the peaceful pace she strove to maintain.

Argh! Why did he have to—

No, wait, she accepted her own part in this.

“My younger brother, Luke, got into some trouble. I flew east to help him out and brought him back home with me for a while. Why, did you miss me?”

“Oh. No. I don’t—” She felt her face flaming. Her jaw clenched. She wanted to smack him. Three months of inner peace shot to hell in two minutes. Thanks, Zac.

No, no, no. She wouldn’t assign blame. Inner peace was her own responsibility. “I noticed you were gone. Does that count?”

“Sure.” He looked smug. Smug! She knew he would. And it made her want to smack him harder. “You changed your hair.”

“I did.” That morning she’d put on a short asymmetrical wig, which she particularly loved because it took her out of her comfort zone, made her look a bit wilder and more unpredictable and helped make her feel that way, too. But with Zac looking at her much too carefully, she only felt exposed as a fake.

So? She wasn’t one. Just a beginner at unearthing new feelings and new parts of herself. This was all part of her transformation, freeing herself to explore new potentials. She’d spent too long watching other people really live while she stood sensibly on the sidelines, held there by the weight of her parents’ values and expectations.

She refused to care whether Zac liked the new look or not. In fact, she’d let him think it was permanent.

“Nice,” spoken with no enthusiasm, still studying her. “Something else has changed about—”

“What can I get you?” She wanted to remind him that their relationship was customer and barista, and he had no place giving opinions on her appearance.

No, wait. He did. He had that right, and she accepted it.

Oh, man. She needed to get back to her cliff.

“How about a tall French roast and...” His blue gaze faltered, then focused on her with renewed intensity, unsettling her further. “And the chance to spend time catching up with you.”

Chris blinked. Blinked again. She should be taking cleansing and healing breaths right now.

She wasn’t breathing at all.

Was Zac asking her out? No, no, he couldn’t be. He hadn’t mentioned a place or event. He just wanted to find out what she’d been doing while he was gone. Probably just being polite.

“Well.” She turned away to pour his coffee, finding it much easier not to look at him. “It’s not busy here now. We can talk.”

He didn’t answer. Chris turned back, holding out his mug. His eyes pinned her. She felt as if she’d suddenly started moving in slow motion. “Actually, Chris, I meant I’d like to have dinner sometime.”

Dinner sometime?

“I...we...you...”

He chuckled—of course he did, her discomfort always amused him, the rat—and took the coffee out of her hands. “Think about it.”

Chris stepped back, inhaled long and slow through her nose, blew out the tension between her lips, and relaxed her tongue and her shoulders as she’d learned to do. She was free to accept or reject his offer. She had power in this situation. And if he’d get the hell away from her, she could take some time to examine her feelings before she answered, as she’d also learned to do. “Thank you. That’s a very nice invitation.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Something’s different about you. Besides the hair.”

“Yes.” She did not owe him an explanation.

“Okay, then.” He shot her a grin and started toward his usual table, leaving Chris hopelessly trying to get her Zen back.

The door banged open, making her jump and Zac turn. A young, slightly familiar-looking man walked in. Chris glanced at Zac and then back. Was this his younger brother? He was darker than Zac, one eyebrow pierced with a silver ring, slender where Zac was built, light and quick in contrast to Zac’s powerful, deliberate movements, but there was some resemblance.

“So this is Slow Pour.” The newcomer made the announcement as if he was narrating a movie starring himself. A few patrons paused in midconversation to see who had interrupted the café’s peaceful vibe.

Zac suddenly looked wary and tired. Chris felt a pang of sympathy for him. Whatever trouble this kid had gotten into, it had been hard on his older brother.

The kid who must be Luke ambled toward her, eyes alight with mischief and energy. “And you are therefore Chris.”