You Mocha Me Crazy (Coffee Loft: Fall Collection)

12. Bradley

Chapter twelve

Bradley

The smell of charcoal embers fills the air. Nothing like grilling a steak for dinner on a Saturday night. Especially when I’ve been working on a special project all afternoon. Once the steak is a perfect medium, I remove it from the grill and let it rest on the cutting board while I chop veggies for a salad. The key to a great steak is letting it rest. At least, that’s what Dad always says. Once it’s rested for a few minutes, I slice the steak into thin strips, add it to the top of the salad, and drizzle on the dressing. It’s such a pleasant night, I decide to eat outside. Once I’m settled into the Adirondack chair on my back porch, I spear a piece of steak with my fork, and pop it into my mouth.

What a day. Seeing Aurora at the grocery store was a fun distraction. I laugh out loud when I remember how she’d looked with toilet paper packages falling all around her. Of course, I didn’t laugh at the time. That would’ve been rude. Besides, she felt mortified, which became especially clear when she allowed me to hold her hand while we shopped together.

I rub my thumb across my fingers where they’d been touching her face earlier today. The feel of her skin on my hands is seared into my memory. I came so close to leaning in and kissing her lips, but I need her to trust me first.

I shake my head and take another bite of salad. I wonder how girls’ night is going. Hopefully, she’s having the time of her life. She works too hard. From what I can tell, she’s at the Coffee Loft from sunup until after sundown most days. No one can go like that forever without getting burnt out.

It’s hard for me to believe someone as wonderful as Aurora hasn’t ever had a girls’ night party before. She’s been holding herself back. To think that Lauren and Miley still think it’s okay to bully her is insane to me. Don’t bullies usually grow up and stop treating people poorly to make themselves feel better?

I turn on some music—“Today’s country hits”—and sit back in the chair to finish my food. No sense getting bothered over those women. Besides, I have a project to finish. Which reminds me—I need to call Mom.

I slip my phone out of my pocket and dial her number.

“Hi, son.” My dad’s voice carries across the line. “Your mom’s in the shower. Everything okay?”

“Hi, Dad. How are you?” I miss my dad, but the last few times we talked it didn’t end well. I know he means well, but he doesn’t like to take no for an answer. Or admit he might be wrong.

“Good. Busy. You know how it is this time of year.” Dad owns a retail store near the lake selling fishing and boating equipment.

“I do,” I say. Dad’s always wanted me to go into business with him, but I don’t want to move to Colorado, which is where they headed after I graduated college.

“Well, I’ll tell your mother you called,” he says when the silence stretches on.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Hanging up feels like a lead weight just dropped into my stomach. Ever since I moved back to Piney Brook, things have been more strained than ever.

Feeling antsy, I decide to sand down the wood I cut this afternoon. Once it’s smooth, I can assemble and stain it all. According to the measurements Heath got for me, it should fit perfectly. If everything goes as planned, it will be a wonderful addition to the Coffee Loft. I just hope Aurora likes it.

When it gets dark, I turn everything off, unplug my tools, put them into the detached garage behind the duplex, and clean up my mess. A hot shower and a good night’s sleep are in order. I hear my bed calling my name.

Sunday morning, I slip on my running shoes and head out to the front door. There’s a park with a trail just down the road, and I’ve been dying to run there. In high school, I joined the track team. Mostly to make my parents happy, but I discovered I really enjoyed it. Running lets me think things through, pound out my frustrations on the pavement, and it turns out . . . I love the runner’s high.

I do my warm up—soldier kicks, leg swings, lunges—on the short walk to the entrance of the park. Once I find the trailhead, I take off at an easy jog. I’ve not been down here before, and I want to take it all in. I come to a fork in the path and jog in place while I decide which way to go. The left leads to the lake according to a posted sign, so that’s the direction I head. The fall colors have taken over, and the trees are a riot of orange and yellow. Leaves crunch under my feet as I make my way down the dirt path. It’s not long before I hear a dog barking in the distance.

Keeping my steady pace, I breathe the cool morning air in through my nose and out through my mouth. It’s been a while since I made time to run, and I can feel myself getting more centered the longer I’m out here.

The sound of the dog barking is getting closer. Maybe I should get a dog for a running partner. Or not. I’m gone long hours sometimes, and that wouldn’t be fair to a dog. I’m still debating the pros and cons when I turn the corner and run smack dab into a loose dog, trip over it, and land right in the muddy bank of the cold lake.

“Pax, get over here!” a woman shouts, running from the far side of the lake. “I can’t believe you!”

That voice sounds familiar. As the woman gets closer, I notice her dark hair swinging wildly behind her. It can’t be . . . “I didn’t know you had a dog,” I say, standing and brushing as much of the muck off myself as I can.

Aurora’s mouth goes wide when she turns, leash in hand, and sees me in all my mud-spattered glory. “I am so sorry,” she says. “I’m dog sitting for my parents this week. They just dropped him off an hour ago, and I thought we’d start out with a nice walk. I can’t believe he got away like that!”

Pax is happily sniffing the grass along the sidewalk as though he didn’t just send me tumbling into my own mud bath. “It’s okay,” I say, holding up my muddy hands. “I’ve been meaning to book a spa day. Besides, I’m washable.”

“If you give me your clothes, I’ll get them washed for you.” She’s struggling with the leash again as Pax, an Australian Shepherd mix from the looks of him, has found something interesting in the bushes and is dragging her along behind him. “Pax, stop!”

I squish my way back to dry land, wipe my shoes on the grass as best I can, and jog over to the chronic sniffender. I nearly snort at my own joke, but I doubt she’d appreciate the humor right now. “Here,” I say, taking the leash. “I’ll help you get him back to your car, but I think I’ll have to wash my own clothes. No one wants to see me walk home naked and muddy.”

Her lips open to a perfect little O. “You’re probably right,” she stutters, as her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. “Thanks for rescuing me. Again.”

“Gladly. Where’s your car?” I tug the leash, and Pax comes out of the bushes, a big stick in his mouth. “Come on, boy. You’ve caused enough trouble for one morning.”

“This is why my parents hired a trainer. Though, from the looks of it, Pax could use a little more instruction time.”

I laugh. “You’re probably right. You said you're dog-sitting?”

Aurora falls in step beside me and I listen as she shares more about her parents, who are on a cruise for their anniversary.

“Here we are,” she says, hitting the button on her key fob and opening the back door to her sedan. “Up, Pax.” The dog jumps into the back seat where Aurora’s covered the fabric with what appear to be old blankets. “How can I make this up to you?” she asks, waving her hand over my muddy clothes. “That looks so uncomfortable.”

I look down and cringe. I’ll probably need to hose off before heading inside. “No need to make it up. Things happen. It’s not the first time I’ve fallen on a run.”

She shakes her head, ready to argue with me.

“But if you want to join me for brunch, I won’t say no.” I sway back and forth on my stiffening sneakers while I wait for her to answer.

“I can’t today,” she says. “I’m afraid to leave this dog alone for too long. She’s a disaster on four legs.”

“Okay, no problem.” I refuse to be that guy that can’t take no for an answer. “See you around.” I watch as she clips the dog into some seatbelt contraption and climbs inside her car. She smiles and gives me a little wave as she pulls out of the parking lot.

Nothing to do but clean up and finish that mug wall.

I just hope that it’s one surprise that finally goes right.

Maybe it’ll give her a reason to smile—and a reason to think of me.