Happy Pants Cafe Page 3

  What is this place? There were hardly any men, and from what Harper could see, the customers were genuinely buying cookies. And coffee. No private rooms, no forms being filled out. Nothing. Just lots of women, piles of cookies, and coffee.

  “The line is back there,” said a man.

  Harper turned. Ugh. Super Ken. “Look!” She pointed her finger in his face. “I almost lost my job because of you, and I am not about to lose my last chance to keep it. You already got your story, so leave.”

  “Excuse me?” he said in a deep, cocky tone that gave her the distinct impression he never let anyone tell him what to do.

  Well, he’s never met me.

  She leaned toward him and whispered, “You heard me. Leave.”

  “Why would I do that?” he whispered back acerbically. “To make you happy? I’m pretty sure that’s not possible, and I don’t even know you.”

  “Yes. You do. I’m the woman you humiliated in front of the entire world—or at least my colleagues and the entire tabloid-reading community.”

  He scoffed. “I beat you to the punch. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

  “You used your looks to get a story. That was cheap.”

  His eyes dropped to Harper’s chest, and she suddenly felt a rush of sensual tension spark right to the tips of her nipples, as if they seriously appreciated the attention.

  Oh, stop that, nipples.

  “You’ve never used your looks to get what you wanted?” he asked.

  “May I help you two?” A petite elderly woman, with thick silver hair pulled into a bun and wearing a happy face apron, glared up at the two. She’d spoken with a thick accent—Puerto Rican? South American? Harper wasn’t sure.

  “Are you the owner?” Harper asked, switching to a cheerful, professional tone.

  Super Ken stuck out his hand toward the woman. “Hi, I’m Austin Royce, from the Oakland Examiner.”

  Harper blinked, feeling the floor dissolve beneath her feet. Suddenly, the air inside her lungs evaporated, and she couldn’t breathe.

  Austin Royce. Austin. Did he just say Austin? Harper put her hand over her mouth. But how? He looked so…so…No way is that him. The Austin she remembered was pudgy with thick glasses and stringy brown hair. This Austin was built and tall and had a sex-weapon smile.

  But if it was him, why hadn’t he recognized her?

  Because you were nothing worth remembering to him…

  ~~

  Nineteen Years Earlier.

  Harper stared into the mirror as her mother braided her long auburn hair. She was unable to stop crying, and her mother was unable to stop apologizing. Clearly, she felt guilty.

  Good. Why did they have to move, anyway? Things were so perfect right where they were.

  “Mommy, but babies are small. Why do we need a bigger house?”

  Her mother continued braiding. Her own long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she looked like she was about to burst. How the heck was Harper’s baby brother going to get out of there, anyway? Was there a door somewhere?

  “Harper, I know this is hard. But I promise you’ll make new friends at our new house and your new school.”

  Boo! None of them would be Austin. Although she was nine and he was eleven, they were the best of friends, and someday, she wanted to marry him. They played video games, liked the same movies and TV shows, and rode bikes together. Harper was convinced that no one on the entire planet was as perfect as Austin or had more in common with her. Two peas in a Star Wars rebel escape pod. They even had the same temper and stubbornness. Of course, Austin, with those big goofy glasses, only had to smile at her with that even bigger goofy grin and she couldn’t stay mad for long.

  Harper looked at her preoccupied, teary-eyed mother frantically trying to finish Harper’s hair before the party. “Mom, can we come back and visit?”

  “Sure, honey. But I’m sure you’ll be busy with your new friends.”

  “I don’t want new friends. I want Austin. I love him,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Her mother lifted her brows and smiled. “Sure you do, Harper. But you’re nine. You’ll get over it.”

  Harper didn’t think she would. “He said he’s never met anyone like me and that we’ll be friends—best friends—forever.”

  Her mother patted her head. “The guests will be here in ten minutes. Finish cleaning up your room and come help with the greeting.”

  Harper couldn’t believe this was their last day in this house. Tomorrow, she’d go to her grandmother’s with her little brother Doug and older sister Jessa while the movers packed everything up.

  Harper sighed and slid off the vanity stool. At least she’d get to spend this last night with Austin. Maybe they could catch frogs in the pond out back, and then she would tell Austin that she loved him. Even more than the Backstreet Boys all rolled up together.

  Harper looked at herself in the mirror, not seeing a nine-year-old girl, but the woman she was meant to be: confident, beautiful, and loved. Forever. Just like Cinderella and Batman.

  Not long after, the guests from the neighborhood started pouring in for the goodbye BBQ. It was a warm summer night, and she was in charge of making sure the ice buckets stayed filled with sodas.

  “Hi there, Harper. Are you excited about the new house and baby brother on the way?” It was Austin’s mother. She was a really, really, really ooold woman. Forty.

  “Not really. Babies cry too much, and the new house smells like cat pee.” They’d gone to see it two days ago. It had a small yard and weird airplane wallpaper in her room-to-be. “I want to stay here.”

  Austin’s mother smiled at Harper. “Austin is going to miss you, too, Harper. You’ve really helped him come out of his shell.”

  What the heck did that mean? Austin wasn’t a turtle. “Where is he?”

  Austin’s mom shrugged. “I think he’s in our yard. He wanted to show his new tree house to Becky from down the street.”

  Becky? That mean girl who was friends with her older sister, Jessa? And new tree house? What happened to the old one? She loved the old one! Sure, it didn’t have a roof, but it was perfect for hunting spaceships at night. And why didn’t he say anything? Was that why he hadn’t come over to play Nintendo today?

  “I need to get more sodas.” Harper scurried off to the garage, where the flats of cans were stacked, but snuck out the side door. When Harper found Austin, however, he wasn’t in the tree house. He was leaning against a tree, and Becky was leaning against him. Kissing him! And Austin was kissing her back.

  Harper ran back to her house and up to her room, where she slid underneath the bed and cried herself to sleep. No one even noticed her absence, and the next morning, when they left for her grandmother’s house, Harper promised herself that she would never look back. And she would never forget: love is a joke.

  ~~

  The sound of snapping fingers caught Harper’s attention. “My dear, are you all right?”

  Harper blinked and looked down at the older Hispanic lady with deep smile lines and lively brown eyes.

  “Oh. Um…yeah. I’m fine. I’m just really thrilled to be in your café. I’ve heard so many things about it.”

  “And you are, dear?” The woman’s suspicious eyes darted between her and Austin.

  Harper was about to introduce herself, but Aust—Aust—crap, she couldn’t even look at the guy now. How could this be happening? How was he standing right there? And goddammit! Where the hell did he get off being so good-looking? And pompous! And being a reporter just like her?

  “Dear? Are you certain you’re okay?” asked the woman.

  By now the long line of patrons were all staring. Mostly at Austin’s perfect male-model ass, but it wasn’t helping her sad little state of angst. Austin. Austin. How is this possible?

  “Sorry. Long day.” Harper extended her hand. “I’m Marie. I work for the San Francisco Tribune.” Marie was her middle name, so technically it wasn’t a lie.

  “Well,” said the
woman, her eyes narrowing judgmentally, “I am Ms. Luci, the owner of this café. And I don’t give interviews, so you two can leave the way you came in. Have a happy day!”

  Austin flashed a well-rehearsed, charming smile at Ms. Luci. “Well, I certainly understand, but I’m writing an article about Christina Bass-Andrews. She mentioned she met her husband here, and I was hoping to get a few words about the role you played.”

  “Never met the woman,” said Ms. Luci. She extended her arm, gesturing toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have cookies to bake.”

  Austin glanced at Harper, then back at the woman. “Of course, Ms. Luci. Sorry to bother you. I had really come in just to check out the place and see if you’d be open to talking when you’re not so busy. So if you change your mind…” He reached for his back pocket.

  Harper quickly grabbed a card from her purse and shoved it into Ms. Luci’s hand. “Call me. I would love to tell the world about your establishment.”

  Ms. Luci smirked, but didn’t accept the card. “That is what I’m trying to avoid. Good day.”

  That’s strange. Why would she want to avoid publicity?

  Harper and Austin walked outside, where she was determined not to have a massive mumbling fit. Thankfully, it looked like Austin wasn’t going to pursue this story, so he’d be in his car and out of her life as soon as they made it back to the sidewalk.

  Harper silently wove her way through the crowded, sunny patio, with Austin trailing behind her.

  Okay. Be confident. Say good-bye. Come back first thing tomorrow morning. Once back out on the main sidewalk, Harper turned and held out her hand. “Well, Austin, it was a pleasure kissing—I mean, meeting you again. Have a nice drive back to Oakland.”

  “I live in the city, but thanks.” He shook her hand, and it was, hands down, the nicest handshake Harper had ever experienced. His palm was rough, warm, and all manly firmness.

  “Same to you, Marie. You are heading home, too, correct?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’m just going to grab a bite, but I’ll be off.”

  “Funny. Me, too.” Although he smiled, those stunning hazel eyes flickered with suspicion. “Why don’t I buy? Bury the hatchet?”

  Oh no. She was a terrible liar, and keeping up a charade through an entire meal would be difficult. Add that Austin was a rival, and she felt really unsettled all of a sudden—without any rhyme or reason—breaking bread would be a bad choice.

  “Hello?” Austin snapped his fingers.

  Why was everyone doing that to her today? Did she look like she needed snaps? No, she needed tequila. Perhaps the one with the worm so she’d think about something other than the fact that Austin was standing right in front of her in all his snappy gorgeousness.

  God, he really is handsome. How did that happen?

  “Sure,” she suddenly blurted out, wondering what had come over her, “I’d love some linner.”

  “Linner?”

  “Yeah. It’s like brunch, but the dinner version.”

  “I thought that was called early dinner.”

  She chuckled nervously. “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You looked like you were about to pass out back there.”

  “My medication is wearing off.” Crap. Why did I say that? What’s wrong with me today?

  He smiled down at her, and she fully understood why Christina Bass-Andrews had given in to his charms. So how had Austin ended up in the same profession, working for a paper just on the other side of the bridge? And what happened to him after she moved away?

  “So, what are you in the mood for?” he asked.

  “Alcohol.”

  “I thought you were driving home,” he pointed out.

  Damn. “Right you are.”

  “There’s the wine bar across the street,” he said. “They have great sandwiches and a decent wine-tasting menu. We can have one glass.”

  “Um…okay.” Harper’s mind bounced back and forth between running away and satisfying her curiosity. She really was interested to find out what he’d been up to all these years.

  Well, one salad and I’ll never see him again. Done. Like it never happened.

  “Shall we?” Austin gestured toward the crosswalk at the corner.

  Harper smiled, but avoided those hazel eyes like she avoided cauliflower. (She hated that vegetable. Looked like giant warts.) But what was she getting so worked up about? The guy had been her neighbor when she was nine. Big whoop. Okay, their relationship would set the foundation for all relationships to follow for the next nineteen years, but everyone’s first crush and first broken heart played that role. Harper really didn’t have any hang-ups on the matter.

  Then why do you feel like you’re nine again, swooning for the boy who got away? She didn’t know, but it was odd to say the least.

  “So, Austin.” She poked the walk button. “What do you think is up with that café?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, nothing. Although…” He paused and scratched his unshaven chin. Unfortunately, that was a huge turn-on for Harper. The bristly sound of stubble being scratched reminded her of a man’s rough jaw and how good those jaws felt when rubbed lightly across that delicate spot just above her collarbone.

  Oh. Stop that.

  “Christina said it was bad luck to say anything,” he continued, “so I know she’s hiding something.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.”

  He made a another little shrug. “I’m sure it’s some superstitious bride thing.”

  Harper thought about that for a moment. He could be right. The women at the wedding had said that the café was the place to meet a man. Then there were the pictures of happy couples plastered all over that wall inside.

  Austin opened the door for Harper to the homey-looking little wine bar, and they were immediately seated at a small table next to the window. The place, decorated with empty Chianti bottles and salamis suspended from the ceiling, had a wine-tasting counter in the back and a gourmet deli attached through a doorway. The smell of chocolates and freshly baked bread immediately permeated her nose. Harper wondered what it would take to convert her apartment to look like this. My own personal wine, salami, cheese, and chocolate cave. Interior design à la Harper.

  Austin sat across from her and perused the menu. “So,” he said, without lifting his gaze, “why are you so interested in the café?”

  Should she tell him the truth? If she said there was nothing interesting about it, he’d know she was lying. Otherwise, why would she be there? But if she told him everything, he’d never go home.

  Harper cleared her throat. “Well, after the wedding-slash-tabloid incident, I had to promise my editor something special.”

  Austin glanced up from the menu, and Harper noted that even sitting, she still felt so tiny compared to him. Probably because she was always looking up and he was always looking down.

  “I thought you were embellishing about the tabloid thing,” he said.

  He hadn’t seen her moment of fame-shame? Lucky her on two counts! Because he would have then realized she’d just lied about her name (the headline had read Reporter Harper Branton Shows Her Stuff), and he would have seen “her stuff” or at least a bubble over her stuff, which left much to the imagination. Oh, the horror.

  Harper tried to be cool about it. “It was just a stupid blurb—not much to see—but my editor says she’ll can my ass if I don’t have a hot story on her desk in one week.” It was Friday, so that left this weekend plus a few extra days to come up with a good story before she needed to write the article.

  Gazing at the menu, he nodded. “I see. So what’s your next step?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Well, obviously, you saw there’s nothing worth reporting, which means you’ll be fired. What do you plan to do?” He looked up at her with those stunning gold eyes with green little speckles.

  “Um.” Harper blinked, trying to fo
cus her thoughts on the conversation versus lusty thoughts of this vision of masculine perfection who kept accidentally rubbing kneecaps with her under the table.

  I think I just had a knee-gasm.

  She wiped her brow and cleared her throat. “I really hadn’t thought about it yet. In all honesty, I’m hoping she didn’t mean it.” That job was everything to her.

  “You work for Zel, right?”

  “You know her?”

  He smiled. “I know everyone, Marie. Except you.”

  Harper suddenly felt a pang of guilt for having lied to him. It was just…was this really the Austin Royce sitting in front of her? It wasn’t sinking in. Not really. How had that little boy she remembered—large eyes behind thick glasses, goofy smile, and slightly awkward—turned into this? He looked like he’d just climbed off the cover of some steamy hot romance novel about a fearless racecar driver. And that hair—thick, messy, slightly in need of a trim—she wanted to feel it on her bare breast as he collapsed on top of her from exertion after having had his way with her.

  Uh, Harp? I think he’s waiting for you to stop drooling and say something.

  Oh yeah. Mouth? Mouth? You’re still working, right?

  “I’m, uh, kind of new,” she lied.

  “May I take your orders?” said a sugary woman’s voice.

  Harper and Austin looked up at the sandy-blonde waitress.

  Austin handed the woman the menu. “I’ll have a bottle of the Clos Pegase pinot and the wild mushroom flatbread pizza.”

  Dear Lord. That was exactly what Harper was going to order. Or wanted to, anyway, since she was pretending to be driving home afterward.

  “And for you?” the waitress asked.

  “Um…I’ll have the prosciutto, fig, and smoked duck wrap.”

  “I’ll be right back with your wine.” The waitress disappeared.

  “I thought you were driving home,” Harper said.

  Austin stared at her. His lips were so full and sensual. His eyes were so intense. It made Harper’s insides vibrate to a state of near liquefaction. “Let’s cut the crap, Marie. You’re desperate for a story, and you don’t seem like the kind of woman to give up. That means you’re not leaving. It also means you know something I don’t, and if there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s a little friendly competition.”