You Mocha Me Crazy (Coffee Loft: Fall Collection)

6. Bradley

Chapter six

Bradley

I stare at the swinging wooden door that now stands between me and an obviously distraught Aurora. Just before she turned around, her face had done that scrunch thing it used to do when she was upset. My mind races, trying to process what just happened. Maybe the flowers were too much? Is she seeing someone and her dad doesn’t know? If so, why would she agree to have dinner with me?

I’m still trying to process the last few minutes when the door swings open again, and Lacey steps through. “She’ll be right out,” she says, stopping in front of me. She eyes me warily before placing both hands on the counter that divides us and leaning into my space. “Don’t hurt her again.”

“Again?” I ask, thoroughly confused. I hurt her? When? How?

“Thanks for waiting,” Aurora calls as she steps through the doorway. “I’m ready when you are. I didn’t have time to go home and change into anything more fancy, so . . .”

I glance between Lacey and Aurora. The air is filled with such thick tension, it’s almost tangible. There’s something I’m missing here, and I intend to figure it out.

“Jeans are good,” I say. She runs her eyes over my outfit. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be wearing. Better to be overdressed, my mom always said.” I shrug. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, Aurora. It’s a friendly dinner.” She looks as beautiful as ever in her jeans and t-shirt. I almost chuckle out loud when I read what’s on the front of the shirt, but I keep it inside, afraid to upset her more.

My eyes move back to her face in time to see her lips pinch together. Somehow, I think I’ve said the wrong thing.

Again.

“Ashlan, I’ll be available by cell if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” the young woman says, before smiling at me. “I hope you two have a great time.”

“Thanks for closing.” Aurora turns to me. “Shall I follow you?”

Follow me? “I’d like to drive you, if that’s okay. You’ve been on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.” I hold my breath in anticipation of her turning me down. I get the feeling she’s less than thrilled about this dinner date, and it makes my heart sink.

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you. You’ll bring me back to my car?” Her tone’s more business than friendly. Hopefully, I can figure out what’s bothering her before dinner’s over.

“Of course,” I say, stepping back and letting her lead the way outside. “I’m parked just over there.” I point to a parallel space across the road where my truck sits. She doesn’t respond, just looks both ways and crosses the street. I jog to her side of the truck and open the door. She may be wary of me, but I’m determined to be a gentleman.

“Thanks,” she says, climbing into the seat. “You’ve got a nice truck.” She blushes as her eyes find mine and my heart slams into my chest. Maybe she’s not as immune to the chemistry I feel between us as she seems.

“It was the first thing I bought when I got my promotion with Lost Creek. I had an old Nissan hard body truck—Betsy. A hand-me-down from my uncle when I turned sixteen. While she was great for high school and when I was starting out, I wanted something a little nicer.” I close her door and head around to climb into the driver’s side.

“What happened to Betsy?” Aurora asks.

I grin. “She’s in my parent’s garage. I’m restoring her little by little. Maybe pass her down to my own kid someday.” I shrug. “Who knows?”

“Oh.” She tucks her hands between her legs. “So, where are we going?”

I start the truck and carefully pull out onto the road. “I thought we could go to Surfside.”

She looks down at her jeans and t-shirt, a frown on her face.

“We have some time. Do you want me to swing by your house so you can change?” I ask, uncertain what she’s thinking. “I’ve been to Surfside in jeans plenty of times, but if you’ll be more comfortable in something else . . .”

She stares at me from her side of the truck, her eyes shimmering. Is she going to cry? How could this be off to such a rough start? I asked Tim and Reid, and they said Surfside was a great restaurant for a first date.

“Or,” I say, thinking fast. “We can go to the pizza place up the road and grab a slice instead?”

“You’ve been to Surfside in jeans?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I have. To be honest, this is the only pair of dress pants I own.”

She glances down at my legs before averting her gaze.

“Really, Aurora. I don’t mind getting pizza instead, or driving by your house. Whatever will make you more comfortable.”

It looks like she’s either deciding on something or giving herself a pep talk. Her lips are moving, but there’s no sound coming out. It would be cute if I wasn’t so sure I was already on thin ice.

“Let’s get pizza,” she finally says.

“Sounds good,” I say, flipping on the blinker and taking the next right. “I like Pizza and Playtime more than Surfside, anyway.” I glance her way when I feel her eyes on me.

“Then why were we going there?”

I shrug. “I wanted to impress you.”

“Oh,” she whispers. I dare to look over and see she’s staring out the window.

The rest of the drive is quiet. The only sound in the truck is the soft music playing in the background. I keep searching for something to say, but I’ve got nothing.

I was hoping we would hit it off and all the fantasies I’ve had of sweeping her off her feet one day would come true. Instead, it feels like I’m lost in a country I’ve never been to and I don’t know the language to ask for help.

Thankfully, Pizza and Playtime isn’t too busy when we pull into the parking lot. At least we’ll be able to get a table. I’ve no sooner parked the car than she’s hopped out.

“Ready?” I ask, meeting her in front of the truck.

She nods. “You bet.”

Okay . . . I open the door for her to step inside first. The noise of arcade machines is a drastic change from the near silence in the car. “What do you like on your pizza?”

She looks over the menu above the counter. “A Piney Brook Special sounds good.”

I find that on the menu. “One Piney Brook Special, coming right up,” I say. I wonder if I can pick mushrooms off the pizza without making it more awkward. I place our order and take the table tent from the young man who rang us up.

Aurora grabs the sodas from the counter and steps back. “Where do you want to sit?” she asks, looking around the nearly empty restaurant. I’m sure it’s busier on a weekend, but I’m thankful it’s not full of families and kids running everywhere right now.

“How about over in the corner there?” I ask, pointing to a quiet corner of the room, farthest from the games. Maybe we’ll actually be able to hear each other and talk.

“Uh, sure.”

I wait for her to lead the way, sliding into the booth opposite her and placing the table number on the edge.

“So, what brings you back to Piney Brook?” she asks.

I take my time unwrapping my straw and taking a sip of Coke to wet my parched throat. “Well, I really loved it here as a kid. I was upset with my parents for a long time after we moved.”

She smiles. “I can understand that. I couldn’t wait to get back home after college. There’s something about Piney Brook that just pulls you in.”

Conversation flows easily while we wait for our pizza to arrive. Finally, things seem to be going smoothly. When there’s a lull, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was hoping to reconnect with you, actually.” There, I said it. My heart is racing like I’m competing in the Olympics or something. I can’t bring myself to look away from her.

Her eyes fly to mine, a startled look on her face. “Why?”

“It’s always nice to reconnect with old friends,” I say, backtracking a bit. “Besides, I’ve been away so long, I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me. When you did, I was pleasantly surprised.”

“One Piney Brook Special,” a young woman says, sliding the pizza onto the table between us and placing two plates beside it. “Anything else y’all need?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, watching Aurora.

“All right, y’all enjoy.” The young woman spins on her heel and heads back in the direction she came from.

“How could I forget you?” she asks, her tone heavy.

“I’m sure I’ve changed over the years,” I say. “Though you’re still as beautiful as ever.”

She blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to say that,” she says, taking a bite of her pizza.

“I know I don’t have to. It’s true. You’re just as beautiful as I remember you. All grown up now, but still as radiant. Your hair still shines in the light.”

“My hair,” she says flatly. “You always made fun of my hair.”

“No, I didn’t.” I argue. I would’ve never made fun of her hair. It’s one of the things I liked most about her. The deep chestnut of her hair always reminded me of the chocolate that we’d melt for s’mores in the summer growing up. Rich and smooth, it always seemed to glimmer in the sunshine. “I always thought your hair was pretty.”

“Okay, let’s change the subject,” she says, ripping a bit of pizza from the slice and eating it.

She thinks I made fun of her? That I was no better than Lauren and Miley? My heart squeezes in my chest. No wonder Lacey had warned me not to hurt her.