Coffeemates: Chapter One

A good cup of coffee can be hard to find, but when you find the one that’s right for you…it can change your life.

Chapter One

Friday

She saw him slip trough the doors of the crowded coffee shop and did a double take. Unmistakable.

She let her eyes dance over the other patrons, relieved, for his sake, that no one else seemed to notice what was obviously his attempt at a low-profile entrance. He was sporting a sort of Unabomber look with a red knit jersey hood pulled over his head and dark sunglasses covering his eyes. It didn’t look like he had bothered to shave, either, with dark stubble covering his cheeks and chin, but the chiseled jaw and straight nose was a dead giveaway. Even with sunglasses, she recognized him. She had just seen an interview with him on Good Morning America a few days ago.

He was shorter than she had imagined, by at least five inches, he must only date short women that make him look taller in photographs she thought as she lifted her cup to her mouth. She grimaced at the taste of the vile liquid and sat her cup back down. Not enough sugar.



She tried to concentrate on the screen of her laptop computer in front of her, but inspiration was slow to come today. Instead, from the corner of her eye, she watched him pay for his coffee and then turn away from the counter. She expected him to march right back out of the shop but was surprised when he looked over the rim of the dark glasses and surveyed the possible seating.



There wasn’t much to choose from today. One of the sofa nooks had a seat open, but on the adjoining couch, three girls had set up camp and were pouring over a teeny-bop magazine. She quickly digested the picture on the cover of the periodical and decided that if the man was looking for solitude, this was most definitely not the place to sit. He apparently came to the same conclusion and skirted his way through the tables to the other side of the room.

The three other tables were occupied. One with a pair of businessmen, deeply engrossed in a very boring conversation about human resources. Another with a thirty-something woman sipping coffee with one hand, reading a paper with the other and pushing a stroller with a fussing toddler back and forth with her foot. She, still trying to think of something to type into her computer, occupied the third and final table. Ironic, since her morning ritual of people watching had actually turned out something exciting today with the arrival of the incognito man.



“Do you mind?” His voice was much closer than she thought and she looked up, surprised to see him hovering over her table. He gestured to the empty chair across the table from her. “There aren’t any other open tables.”

She shook her, head desperately hoping that it was a casual movement and not the furious, star struck action that it probably resembled.



He slid into the chair with his back to the other patrons and took a long—and what looked like a badly needed—sip of his caffeine fix. Through his glasses she could see his green eyes flicker over her face and she reverted her attention to her computer, hoping that she hadn’t ruined his coffee by staring at him like she couldn’t believe that a movie star had just sat down at her table. Which, by the way, she couldn’t.



Act normal, she told herself. He didn’t want attention. That much was obvious by his attire alone. The man was probably hounded by photographers and screaming fans all day. All he wanted was a peaceful cup of coffee. Surely, he was entitled to that.



Her hand moved to pick up the cup sitting next to her computer but the bitter taste from her last sip still lingered on her tongue and she looked for a sugar dispenser. In any other situation she would just ask someone sitting near her to hand her one, but, today, she faltered. Was it proper etiquette to ask an A-list actor to hand you the sugar?



She decided it was, especially since he was pretending to be a regular guy having a morning cuppa. “Excuse me,” she whispered, careful not to draw attention. “Could you hand me that sugar?” She pointed to the carefully lined dispensers on the counter behind and waited while he casually reached behind him and handed one to her.



She smiled her appreciation and then began pouring a very large helping of the white powder into her cup. She tried not notice as he let his eyes roam over her face. Damn, she wished she’d put some make-up on today. He carelessly leaned to one side and his eyebrows pinched together when his eyes fell to the coffee that was quickly reaching the brim of the cup as she added the sweetener.



“That’s a lot of sugar,” he commented.



She looked up, surprised, and then slowly relaxed with an embarrassed grin. She gently set the dispenser down and dragged a spoon through the steaming liquid. “Yeah,” she said, examining her cup. “I don’t really like coffee. Can’t stand the taste. I try to sweeten it with sugar,” She explained with a delicate shrug.



“Why do you drink it?”



She smiled even more brightly and leaned back in her chair. “I once had a friend say that she couldn’t function until she had had her morning cup of coffee. I thought maybe that was what my problem was, so I started drinking the nasty stuff. Turns out all it did was give me an insatiable caffeine addiction. I’m still dysfunctional.”



He chuckled, letting it dissolve into a lingering smile. “I can absolutely relate to that,” he quipped.



They fell into an oddly comfortable silence as he sipped his latte and she found that an ordinary exchange with an extraordinary table partner provided a certain inspiration and she was able to write a whole page before wanting another sip of coffee.



When she stopped her furious keystrokes, and reached for her cup, she was startled to notice that he had been staring at her. Once again, she tried her best to appear impervious, keeping her eyes diverted to her computer and took a long sip of the sugar-laced coffee.



“Do you come her often,” he asked.



She glanced up from her screen, lifted her eyebrows and all but spit out her coffee when a laugh tore from her throat. “Is that your best pick up line?” she choked out around the coffee.



He regarded her, accepting his failure and joined in the laugh. “It was pretty sad, wasn’t it?”



She nodded still giggling, but somewhat thrown by the awkward attempt at conversation.



“To answer your question, though,” she said with her smile remaining. “Yes. I do come her often. It’s quiet—usually, and I can think. I don’t get much work done at home.”



“If I’m bothering you, just say so.”



“Not at all.”



“So, why can’t you work from home?” A better catalyst for conversation she thought.



“My dog.”



“Your dog?” He repeated, taking a sip of coffee.



“Yeah, a terrible little monster that yips at everything. I can’t hear myself think when he’s barking his head off at nothing in particular.”



“Why don’t you just get rid of the dog?”



“Do you have a dog?”



He nodded. “A yellow lab.”



She smiled. “Then you know why I can’t get rid of him.”



He smiled fondly, probably thinking of his own dog. If he was anything like her, then he definitely knew why she kept the animal. There was something wonderful about knowing that no matter how bad of a day you had, there was someone at home that would be ecstatic to see you and eager to cuddle up next to you, even if you had to yell at them for eating one of the throw pillows.



He nodded his understanding. “What’s your dog’s name?”



“Buddy.”



“Buddy?” He repeated, chuckling. “That’s original.”



Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to make fun of my originality after you actually said do you come here often?”



“Touché.” He smiled a dazzling smile of defeat and they fell into a comfortable silence again. His latte was almost gone before she looked up again and gently closed her laptop. She took a long drink from her cup, finishing the last of her coffee and then sat the empty cup on the table.



He smiled at her and she, quite unintentionally, returned the smile. It felt the most natural thing in the world to do. It was odd. She didn’t feel any of the nervousness that she would think to expect having met someone famous—and gorgeous. She felt quite at ease exchanging smiles with him, like he was just a guy who had sat at her table because there was nowhere else to sit.



There was a part of her that wanted to stay. To further converse with the beautiful man. But, he was trying not to be noticed but to go unnoticed. It seemed rude to intrude on his peace. Still, it seemed ruder to just get up and leave without a word.



“It was very nice to meet you,” she casually said, trying desperately to make her lame attempt at goodbye seem casual while she slipped her computer into her its carrying case and heaving the heavy satchel onto her shoulder.

“Likewise,” he responded as he watched her prepare to leave.



A movement on the other side of the room caught her attention. The three teenaged girls on the couch had now abandoned their magazine and were holding cell phone cameras up in his direction. It didn’t seem right to ignore it and leave him to be ambushed without warning. “Oh,” her voice sounded with a twinge of regret. “Before I go, I should probably tell you that you’ve been spotted.”



His wide eyes snapped up and then followed her glance across the room where he took in the sight. With a low groan, he swung back around and lifted his hand to cover his face.



His audience had already snapped their pictures, though and were quickly gathering the belongings, intending, no doubt, to approach him.



“Too late,” she said gently. “Those pictures will be all over the internet within an hour.”



“Probably,” he agreed solemnly. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed to slits and he looked at her with a certain air of confusion and accusation. Maybe he thought that he had accomplished anonymity and was just now realizing that she had only indulged him in his regular guy having coffee fantasy. She felt bad. She hadn’t openly deceived him, but she didn’t want him to think that she had.



“I’m excited,” she teased. “I’ve never had my picture on Perezhilton.com.”



“It’s overrated,” he mumbled.



She smiled. “I’m sure it is.” She glanced back at the girls as she stood. They were definitely headed in his direction and their excitement was palpable. She could relate. They were reacting the way she wanted to but had, miraculously, found the strength not to. She felt sorry for them because his mood had altered so drastically that she was now half afraid of the brooding guy. “They’re coming over now,” she said in a hushed voice. “You should be nice to them. They did let you finish your coffee in relative peace.”



Where she got the courage to tell him how to act, she had no idea, but she had said it and there was no going back. He turned to look at the girls and then up at her, but she was already halfway to the door. She had decided to quickly depart, not wanting to intrude on the girls. Let them bask in the glory of having met a real life movie star, Hollywood’s newest heartthrob—according to People magazine, anyway—alone.



From the corner of her eye she could see him watching her go, an unreadable expression on his face, and then plaster a smile on his face as he greeted his fans and accepted their outstretched pens and paper to sign autographs.



*****



There was not a single table open in the crowded coffee shop. He looked over the rims of his dark sunglasses, searching for a quiet place to sip his Grande mocha latte where he would go unnoticed. There wasn’t much to choose from. One of the sofa nooks had a seat open, but packed onto the adjoining couch sat three teenage girls with their noses buried in a teeny-bop magazine. He quickly digested the face plastered on the cover of the periodical and decided that this was most definitely not the place to sit for solitude.



Across the room were three small tables, one with two businessmen deeply engrossed in conversation. The second table had a woman sipping her coffee with one hand, reading a paper with the other and pushing a stroller with a fussing toddler back and forth with her foot. A young woman, her attention focused on an open laptop computer, sitting alone with an empty chair across from her, occupied the third table, deep in a dark corner.



He stealthily weaved through the tables, dodging the stroller and made his way to the most promising place to sit. She glanced up from her screen when he came to a stop in front of her.



“Do you mind?” He asked, gesturing to the empty chair. “There aren’t any other open tables.”



She shook her head and he slid into the chair with his back to the view of the other patrons. She looked at him as she sipped her coffee and he was sure that he saw a hint of recognition in her bright blue eyes, but it was gone quickly and she reverted her attention to her computer.



He sighed a momentary feeling of relief and indulged in a long, badly needed sip of his caffeine fix. Already he could classify today as bad, and all he really wanted was to relax for a few moments as a regular guy, enjoying his morning cuppa.



“Excuse me,” the woman’s soft voice said. “Could you hand me that sugar?” She gestured behind him and then looked at him expectantly.



He reached a long arm behind him and captured a sugar dispenser from the bar then turned and handed it to her. She smiled her appreciation and began pouring a very large helping of the white powder into her cup.



His eyes lazily drifted over her face as he resumed his peaceful, silent reverie. She was pretty, not exquisite, but not plain. She had short brown hair framing a heart-shaped face and the blue of her eyes almost shimmered against her pale, smooth skin. The very soft lines at the corner of her eyes betrayed her otherwise youthful appearance and he guessed that she was somewhere in her late twenties.



He casually leaned to one side, attempting to look around the barrier of her computer screen and catch a glimpse of the rest of her but was distracted when he noticed that she was still pouring sugar into her coffee.



“That’s a lot of sugar,” he quietly commented and breathed a quick chuckle.



She looked up, surprised, and then slowly relaxed with a dazzling grin that accentuated the lines around her eyes. She gently set the dispenser down and dragged a spoon through the steaming liquid. “Yeah,” she said, examining her cup. “I don’t really like coffee. Can’t stand the taste. I try to sweeten it with sugar,” She explained with a delicate shrug.



“Why do you drink it?”



She smiled even more brightly and leaned back in her chair. “I once had a friend say that she couldn’t function until she had had her morning cup of coffee. I thought maybe that was what my problem was, so I started drinking the nasty stuff. Turns out all it did was give me an insatiable caffeine addiction. I’m still dysfunctional.”



He chuckled, letting it dissolve into a lingering smile. “I can absolutely relate to that,” he quipped.



They sat in silence, sitting across the small table from one another for several more moments. The woman engrossed in what she was typing, him watching her from the corner of his eye. She mouthed the words as she wrote and he found this curiously attractive on the petite brunette.



When she stopped her furious keystrokes to take another long sip of her sugar laced coffee he had a strange urge to say something to her.



“Do you come her often,” he asked, trying desperately to make his lame attempt at conversation seem casual.



She glanced up from her screen, lifted her shapely eyebrows and all but spit out her coffee when a laugh tore from her throat. “Is that your best pick up line?” she choked out around the coffee.



He regarded her, accepting his failure and joined in the laugh. “It was pretty sad, wasn’t it?”



She nodded still giggling. To his astonishment, the juvenile laugh sounded like music. Lately, he had come to despise the sound of schoolgirl giggles, but this did not grate on his ears like nails on a chalkboard. He enjoyed the sound of it. On top of that, her bright smile was one of genuine amusement and actually made her look younger. Women smiled at him everyday, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one smile at him like this. She was smiling at him, not the persona that he so often had to portray. It made him feel good and that was an even stranger occurrence.



“To answer your question, though,” she said with her smile remaining. “Yes. I do come her often. It’s quiet—usually, and I can think. I don’t get much work done at home.”



“If I’m bothering you, just say so.”



“Not at all.”



“So, why can’t you work from home?” A better catalyst for conversation he thought.



“My dog.”



“Your dog?” He repeated, taking a sip of coffee.



“Yeah, a terrible little monster that yips at everything. I can’t hear myself think when he’s barking his head off at nothing in particular.”



“Why don’t you just get rid of the dog?”



“Do you have a dog?”



He nodded. “A yellow lab.”



She smiled. “Then you know why I can’t get rid of him.”



He did know. Even as he sat in the coffee shop talking about it, he was picturing the loyal dog, probably lying on her favorite corner of the ridiculously expensive Persian rug in the den with a fondness only a real dog lover could appreciate.

He nodded his understanding. “What’s your dog’s name?”



“Buddy.”



“Buddy?” he repeated, chuckling. “That’s original.”



Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to make fun of my originality after you actually said Do you come here often?”

“Touché.” He smiled his defeat and they fell into a comfortable silence again. His latte was almost gone before she looked up again and gently closed her laptop. She took a long drink from her cup, finishing the last of her coffee and then sat the empty cup on the table.



He smiled at her, quite unintentionally. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. It was odd. She returned the smile and then slid the computer into a red bag that had been hanging on the back of her chair.



“It was very nice to meet you,” she casually said as she heaved the bag over her shoulder.



“Likewise,” he responded, mulling over the strange sense of disappointment he was experiencing as he watched her prepare to leave.



“Oh,” her voice sounded with a twinge of surprise. “Before I go I should probably tell you that you’ve been spotted.”

He straightened in his chair and searched her face for an explanation. He followed her eyes to the three teenaged girls across the room that had now abandoned their magazine and were holding cell phone cameras up in his direction. He swung back around and raised his hand to cover his face.



“Too late,” his companion said gently. “Those pictures will be all over the internet within an hour.”



“Probably,” he agreed solemnly. It wasn’t really a surprise that the girls had recognized him, after all, his picture had been on the cover of the magazine they were reading. The realization that the woman had known who he was all along was. She had shown no indication of the usual star struck behavior that typically accompanied recognition of him—behavior like the teens’. She had coolly gone right along with her morning coffee and pretended like he was just a stranger that had sat next to her.



“I’m excited,” the woman teased. “I’ve never had my picture on Perezhilton.com.”



“It’s overrated,” he mumbled.



She smiled. “I’m sure it is.” She glanced back at the girls as she stood. “They’re coming over now,” she said in a hushed voice. “You should be nice to them. They did let you finish your coffee in relative peace.”



He turned to look at the girls and then up at his companion, but she was already halfway to the door. He watched her go, unsure of the emotions he felt for the stranger in the coffee shop and then plastered a smile on his face as he greeted his fans and accepted their outstretched pens and paper to sign autographs.