“Guess I beat you to it.” He shrugged.
“No, you don’t understand. I need that scone for a super-important client meeting. I’ve already been to two shops and I don’t have time to find a third.”
“Then it looks like you’ll have to pick something else,” he said, watching the barista pack his scone into a crisp paper bag. “And can I get a half-caf double latte with that? Thanks.”
“But, I promised my boss–”
His eyes remained void of empathy. “Sorry.”
“Please?” She broke out her sweetest, honey-dipped smile. “I’ll give you ten bucks for it.”
He instantly perked up. “Ten bucks, hmm? Guess you must realllly want this.”
“It may be just an insignificant bundle of butter and flour to you, but at this moment, it means everything to me.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I happen to really like cinnamon chip.”
“I’m sure you do, but my boss insisted I get that particular variety because it’s our client’s absolute favorite and he’s expecting me to do everything short of pulling a rabbit out of my ass to really wow this guy. Come on. Couldn’t you help me out? Please?”
Leaning against the counter, Bluetooth Guy narrowed his eyes and scanned her face as if gauging the depth of her sincerity. “What do you think?” he asked the barista snapping a lid on his coffee. “Should I let her have it?”
“That would be nice of you,” the girl said, trying to appear neutral as she offered Harper a sympathetic smile. “Of course, our blueberry scones are good too.”
“Please?” She appealed again, quite aware that her desperate tone bordered on shameless begging. She didn’t want to resort to heavy artillery like flagrant eyelash batting, but she had it on deck next if he didn’t concede.
“Oh, all right. Go on, take it,” he said, nudging his head toward the paper bag on the counter. “I’ve been in a tight spot with the boss once or twice myself.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She smiled in gratitude and reached for it.
“Unhh, the ten bucks?” He held out his open palm. “Deal’s a deal.”
She slowly retracted her hand, having been lulled into believing that maybe, just maybe, this wireless moron would be a gentleman and just give her the crummy scone. No such luck. Without saying a word that might jeopardize their arrangement, she probed her wallet and forked over the cash.
Bluetooth Guy scissored the single bill between two fingers, then promptly stuffed it into the baristas’ tip jar. “Thank. You.”
Harper snatched the bag, then asked for three additional blueberry and two orange oatmeal scones to go. As her order was being filled, the sudden wail of Sex Bomb blasted from her front pocket.
Bluetooth Guy snickered.
Avoiding eye contact with anyone in the shop, she gritted her teeth and tersely answered her phone. “Yes, yes, I’m getting them right now.”
“Did you bind the presentation with the jet black or the sky blue cover?” Marty questioned.
“They’ve all been done in black like I showed you yesterday.”
“I changed my mind. We should go with the blue,” he said. “Redo them ay-sap?”
She recoiled. “First thing. Give me twelve minutes to get there.”
“And, hey, while you’re at the coffee shop, see if they have any of those thingies.”
“Thingies?”
“Thingies. You know, the kind with the stuff in them that I like.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, grappling to interpret her boss’ cryptic command. “Do you mean a Danish?”
“No, not a Danish. One of those twisty French thingies. Come on, you know.”
Figuring out Marty was like shooting darts in the dark. “A croissant?”
“Yeah, yeah. A croissant. Get me the one with the almond stuff inside.”
On the brink of losing her mind, she hung up, calmly asked the barista for a “thingy,” paid for the order in full and scooped up the paper bags, scone and all.
An amused Bluetooth Guy raised his cup of coffee in a parting salute. “I hope your boss appreciates what you went through to get that.”
“He won’t,” she said stiffly, pocketing the change. As she marched away from the counter, she stole a last glimpse of the little boy, grinning ear-to-ear chocolate. Despite the gooey mess, neither he nor his caregiver appeared to have a single worry in the world. Enjoy it while it lasts, kid.
Still a step behind, Bluetooth Guy caught up to her before she reached the front door, reaching out to prop it open. “Look, I apologize for making you think I was insulting you back there.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, earlier.”
“Forget it.” She brushed past his unavoidably wide chest, picking up the fragrant notes of whatever manly scent he wore. God, why had she even noticed?
He followed her out to the sidewalk. “I don’t want you to leave here believing I would make disparaging remarks about your, well, you know. Because I wouldn’t. I mean, with all due respect, everything in that area looks perfectly fine as far as I can see.”
Startled, she couldn’t fight back the reflex of a flattered smile. Obviously the scones aren’t the only things fresh this morning. Before she formulated a witty response, the sudden strains of Sex Bomb demanded her attention.
“Excuse me,” she said, embarrassed to have to answer her frenetic phone yet again. “I’m leaving the coffee shop right now. Eleven minutes, okay?”
“On second thought, maybe we should stick with jet black.” Marty mused aloud.
“Black? Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yeah, it’s more professional and polished. The sky blue’s just too gitchy, don’t you think?”
She squeezed her frustration into the bags she clutched tight in her fist. “No, I don’t think it’s too kitschy. But tell you what, I’ll do one in black and one in blue, then get consensus around the office on which cover looks better.”
“By nine?” Marty questioned.
“I promise, they’ll be printed, collated, coil-bound and on the boardroom table in plenty of time. Just leave it to me.” She snapped her phone shut again.
Bluetooth Guy smirked. “Boss?”
“He’s not usually this bad but today’s meeting means the difference between keeping our heads above water and going under. Understandably, he’s on edge.”
“You seem kinda frazzled yourself.”
She shrugged. “Oh well, you know, just another day in paradise.”
He casually took a sip of his latte. “Sorry to hear your company’s in trouble. Seems to be going around these days.”
“We’ll be fine, we always are. Although it definitely helps that the client we’re meeting with has really deep pockets and absolutely no bullshit detector.”
They shared a short chuckle before Harper remembered the clock continued ticking toward zero hour. “I’ve got to run,” she said, taking a sizable step backward.
“Wait. Which direction are you headed in? I’ll give you a lift.”
She flinched. “Thanks, but, uh, no thanks.”
His hand shot up like a wholesome Boy Scout. “Geez, I swear, I’m not a creep or anything. I’m only offering to get you where to need to go.”
“You just made me fork over ten dollars for a stupid cinnamon chip scone and now you expect me to believe you’re not a creep? I don’t think so.”
“Suit yourself.” Bluetooth Guy didn’t offer again, making her question whether he was a no-nonsense businessman or just had really crappy negotiation skills. “Out of curiosity, what would happen if you didn’t get the cinnamon chip?”
“Didn’t get it?” She shuddered at such a preposterous notion. “But I did, remember? Thanks to you, I just paid four times its worth.”
“Judging by how frantic you were, I’d say ten bucks was a bargain. But you didn’t answer my question. What if you showed up to the office empty-handed?”
She shook her head. “Failure is never an option. When my boss count
s on me to come through, I come through.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“That doesn’t make me a puppet, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything.” He took another sip of coffee to conceal his smirk.
Harper did not like the smug overtone one bit. “I’m an extremely competent person, that’s all.”
“Yes, I can see that.”