“I guess.” He shrugged and put his cell in his pocket, staring at her curiously. “Do you?”
“Just coffee.” She took another step toward him, caught a whiff of his fresh masculine aftershave. “How did you get into that?”
“Dad owns a wine shop.”
“Yeah? Where?”
“New Jersey.” He edged toward the pickup area of the counter. “Are you this nosy with all your customers?”
“Nosy?” She sent him an odd look. “In California we call this conversation. They don’t do that here?”
“Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Been a tough day. So, California, huh?”
“Central Coast.” She tipped her head, smiling alluringly. “Good wine country.”
“Absolutely.”
“Red eye. Room at the top.” Jinx plunked the container on the counter.
“Sorry about your tough day.” Eva folded her arms. “Want to talk about it?”
“I’m sure you have business to do.” He reached for the cup.
“If I did, would I be offering to talk to you?”
“Ah.” Ames rolled his eyes, smiling. “You are Chris’s sister, after all. Or at least you have her sharp reflexes.”
“Thank you.” Eva frowned at the flowers, beautiful but oddly old-fashioned on the severe counter, as if the only flowers appropriate to the space would be square. “Have you ever meditated?”
“Uh. No. Listen, it was nice to—”
“It’s great on a stressful day. You should totally try it.”
“Mmm, not interested. Thanks.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.” She touched a spot on his forehead just above his brows, where Buddhists believed the third eye existed. He froze in horror, staring up at her finger, which made him sort of cross-eyed, but still incredibly sexy. Eva willed him to look at her, which he did, proving they had a deep connection. Or that he felt like looking at her just then. Their eyes held—both sets that time—and the adrenaline thrill was so strong she could barely get herself to continue. “It’s amazing how calm and peaceful you can feel, while at the same time energized and clear. It’s so different from how we usually operate, rushing around coping with external stuff and worries, ignoring our instincts.”
He blinked. “Uh, yeah.”
“And...” She lowered her voice, drew her finger down the bridge of his very fine nose. “Meditating is also a very sensuous experience. You hear and see and feel and taste and touch the world in a whole new way when your mind is at peace.”
The very delicious Ames swallowed audibly, then took a sudden step back, glancing at his watch. “Listen, thanks for the coffee. I really need to go.”
“Sure, sure. You don’t want to be late for your whatever.” Somehow she kept her lips from twitching. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Yeah. Same here.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Ames!”
He turned reluctantly back, looking annoyed. “What?”
Eva pointed to the milk, sugar and stir station. “Room in your cup?”
“Oh. Right.” He strode over and splashed milk into his coffee, jammed on a lid and rushed out of the shop.
She watched him go, hugging her hoodie around herself, a smile playing on her lips. What an amazing day this had turned out to be. She’d met her next true love, Ames Cooke, who didn’t seem to realize they were meant to be.
The poor guy wasn’t going to know what hit him.
CHRIS WALKED DOWN the hill from Eva’s house, turned left onto La Playa Avenue and walked about fifty feet to Slow Pour. That was it! No trudging down windy cement sidewalks in the cold, with grit blowing into her eyes, no waiting for the subway in a pee-smelling tunnel, no swaying among sullen, silent strangers, then waiting in another tunnel for another train among more strangers...
In Carmia she could stroll to work in five minutes without a coat, and the smell was of ocean and earth. Not to mention Eva’s store opened at seven instead of six, so she got to sleep nearly two hours later than in New York.
This was so fabulous!
Grinning like a fool, she navigated the assortment of colorful mismatched tables, which Eva had salvaged and painted herself. Outdoor tables in October!
Still smiling, she pushed into the shop. The place was adorable, homey, crowded, slightly shabby and very personal. On the sunny yellow walls were rainforest murals over which Eva had hung pictures of young Eva and Chris at coffee plantations throughout the world, and paintings by local artists that she sold from the shop. On an orange side counter were organic soaps, jewelry and cellophane bags of handmade chocolates, also the work of Carmia residents. Rotating stands held postcards and Slow Pour tote bags, T-shirts and hats. Behind the main service counter Eva had mounted a blue surfboard on which she’d attached a whiteboard with the day’s specialties scrawled across it in colored inks. Where the glass case at Chris’s shop housed croissants, brioche, Japanese sweet buns, traditional English scones and Irish soda bread, Eva’s held banana bread, carrot muffins, house-made granola bars and whole-grain pecan spice rolls.
Only one customer was inside, not surprising on such a beautiful day—a blond guy staring at the paper, which he abruptly put down when she walked in, and stared at her instead.
Rude.
She ignored him, walked to the counter, held out her hand to the petite blonde barista wearing an aqua tank top over the kind of light tan Chris was planning to acquire as soon as possible. This must be Summer. Her hair was wild and bleached by the sun, her eyes brown and friendly.
“Hey, there!” Her face broke into a warm smile, showing frighteningly white teeth. “Chris, am I right?”
“Yes, you are.” She felt pale and drab in her charcoal shorts and beige cotton sweater. “Hi, Summer.”
“I knew it.” Summer looked so happy Chris felt slightly uncomfortable. “It is so great to meet you! Welcome to California!”
“It’s great to be here. I’m just stopping by as a customer today, to say hello.”
“I’m so glad you did!” She gestured to the surfboard menu. “Melinda is on the register this afternoon, but she had a doctor appointment. Can I get you something? I’ll make it to go. You should totally go to the beach this afternoon.”
“I was going to ask to look at the schedule and your sales data for—”
“Nah,
