Four Last First Dates Read online

  “Say it again,” he said, his eyes sparkling as his face creased into a smile.

  The heat in my cheeks turned red hot. We were back to flirting?

  “Cassata alla Siciliana.”

  “I could listen to you say that all day.”

  I shot him a sideways glance, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my belly. “Shall I cut you a slice?”

  “Oh, yeah. And a double shot latte. To eat in, since there’s no bossy little sister here to shoo me away.”

  “Coffee and cake coming right up.”

  He paid, a shot of electricity jolting through me when my fingers brushed his as I handed him his change—just to make it all the more awkward for me. He wandered over to sit down in one of the comfy armchairs by the fireplace.

  It was late summer, so the fire wasn’t burning, but in winter it was one of my favorite spots in the whole café. A hot drink, a slice of cake, and a cozy, glowing fire. Bliss.

  The café was quiet before the rush, Sophie was on her break, and Paige was never very good at running our behemoth coffee machine, so I made Ryan’s coffee and took it and his cake over to him. I placed them both down on the table by his chair.

  “Enjoy!” I turned to leave, half hoping he would invite me to sit with him so I could gaze into those eyes once more.

  The other half reminded me he was totally embittered about women, and I would do well to stay far, far away.

  In the end, I didn’t have to make a choice. He simply thanked me and turned his attention to his phone.

  I returned to the counter, feeling ridiculous once again.

  Why did I have such a crush on this guy? Because that was all it was—a crush. Although he was a little flirty when we talked, he had made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything from me.

  I guess all I could do was sit and wait, hoping my feelings would die a natural death to put me out of my misery.

  Oh, but that Ryan Jones did not play fair.

  He came in at the same time again the next day and the day after that, ordering the Cassata alla Siciliana and a cup of coffee each time. He was always a little flirty, his smile enough to make my heart rate quicken and my cheeks blush.

  And then, on the fourth day, he didn’t show.

  Despite telling myself not to, I kept checking the clock, wondering whether he was running late, wondering if he was going to show. By the end of the lunchtime rush, there was still no sign of him. I couldn’t help but feel let down, like seeing him was one of the highlights of my day—even if it was clear he didn’t return my feelings.

  To him, I was just the girl at the café, welcoming him with a ready smile, an embarrassing blush, and a touch of flirtatious banter. The girl who delivered him his caffeine and sugar fix.

  And me wanting more from him wasn’t going to change that.

  Chapter 6

  “AND THAT, DEAR BAILEY, is how we are going to take Auckland’s catering world by storm!” Paige thumped to the table with her palm to emphasize her point.

  I had to smile. She’d put together an elaborate presentation, complete with stats, a detailed business model, and even embedded videos, all to showcase how amazing and successful she believed “Cozy Cottage Catering” would be.

  Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I was finding it hard to fault her approach—as nervous as I was about branching out like this.

  When I didn’t say anything, Paige looked like she might explode. “So? What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve put forward a really compelling case.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, forget about that. Do you want to do it or not?”

  I scrunched up my nose. I was so reticent about trying this. I was beginning to second-guess my judgment. I mean, I was thirty years old, and I had a crush on a guy.

  I let out a puff of air, regarding Paige’s hopeful expression.

  I thought about how I’d opened the Cozy Cottage, how I’d taken a punt on myself, not knowing whether I’d succeed. And I had succeeded, loving the place I’d created, never once regretting it.

  Perhaps I just needed to go for it? Try something new?

  “Maybe we could give it a shot?” I ventured.

  She literally jumped for joy, right out of her seat. “Yes!” She pulled me in for a hug. “Oh, Bailey, this is going to be such a success, I can totally feel it.”

  I laughed. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I know I am. Okay, let’s get down to it. I’ll get some business cards made up, I’ll update the website with some info on us, and why don’t we sit down and work out a potential list of dishes?”

  “That sounds like we’re totally throwing ourselves into this.”

  “I guess. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

  I decided to surrender myself to Paige’s enthusiasm. It was really the only way—she was like a hormonal woman searching for a chocolate fix when she got a new idea. Sometimes, I wondered how Josh coped.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Awesome! Together, we can meet with this potential client, too. How’s Saturday for you after closing? Sound good?”

  I thought of my date-free Saturday nights and nodded. In fact, I was beginning to enjoy the way Paige’s positivity was filling the room. “Sounds good. Who’s the client?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” She flashed me a smile, waggling her eyebrows.

  We spent the next hour going about the everyday tasks we had to do at the end of a working day: placing orders, discussing menus, checking staff rosters, and ensuring the café was in excellent condition to open up tomorrow morning, and do it all again.

  As I walked around the kitchen counter to lock up, there was a rap on the door. Josh poked his head around the side.

  “Bailey!” he said with his characteristic grin as he stepped into the kitchen. He pulled me in for a hug, as though he hadn’t seen me for weeks.

  I saw him yesterday.

  I’d known Josh for a long time, and we’d grown close over the years. He may have been Dan’s little brother, but he was like a big brother to me, over the last few years. He was always looking out for me and my best interests, right down to suggesting Paige as a potential new business partner.

  I suppose Josh felt responsible for me after Dan’s death, taking me under his wing, helping me launch the Cozy Cottage through his coffee company, Ned’s Coffee, named in honor of his brother. You see, Josh couldn’t pronounce “Dan” as a little boy, so he called him “Ned.” Weird, I know, but the name kinda stuck.

  I never called Dan “Ned,” but serving Ned’s Coffee at the café each day had kept Dan’s memory alive—a daily reminder of the wonderful man he was, and what we’d had together.

  When Josh told me he’d fallen in love with Paige some time back, I was so thrilled for him, despite the fact she had shown zero interest in him at that time. But I knew Josh was the kind of guy who just grew on you, and it was only a matter of time before Paige would realize what a special person he was. Which she did, of course, falling head over heels for him, too. They deserved one another—and the happiness they now had.

  “Hey, Josh.” He smiled at me and looked so much like Dan, my heart almost stopped. I had to catch my breath.

  And then, as quickly as it had happened, he was back to Josh again. My heart returned to normal, a familiar brick of sadness settling in my belly.

  I guess you could say it was a double-edged sword having Josh around.

  Most days, I was fine, and life was good. I loved running the Cozy Cottage with Paige, I lived in a beautiful city, surrounded by good friends and family. But lately I’ve wanted more. I knew Dan was gone, but looking around at my friends and how happy they all were in love—even the former anti-commitment queen, Marissa—I wanted to be with someone. I wanted that deep happiness you get from being with someone you love, the feeling that it’s you and him against the world, together.

  But, so far, all I had were some crummy dates that went nowher
e and a crush on a guy who only wanted to flirt with me while he waited for his coffee order to be filled.

  Not exactly shooting for the stars here.

  “Did you have a good day?” Josh asked.

  “Yes, actually.” I smiled at him. “Paige and I have agreed to give catering a shot.”

  “Oh, that’s so cool! She’ll be so happy.” He spied Paige out in the café, and a warm smile spread across his face. He walked past me and out of the room to greet her, and I turned away to slip on my jacket, not wanting to intrude on their private moment.

  With my purse slung over my shoulder, I locked the back door, switched the lights off, and walked through to the café.

  “All set?” Paige was standing arm in arm with Josh, looking like the cat who’d got the cream.

  “Yes. I’ll get here a little earlier tomorrow to bake. Our cakes have been super popular this week, have you noticed?”

  “That’s because they’re the best cakes in Auckland city,” Josh said.

  I laughed. “You have to say that. You’re in love with one of the bakers.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled down at Paige, who blushed, grinning back up at him.

  I walked to the front door, keys in hand. Sure, I was happy for them, but all this lovey-dovey stuff could get a little much.

  Locking the door behind us, we walked down the street—me to catch my bus home, Josh and Paige to Josh’s car parked nearby. As we passed by the store next to the café, I noticed there were boxes in the window where once there were beautiful floral displays and a host of gifts.

  “What’s going on with the florist?” I asked.

  “I think they’re going out of business,” Paige replied. She turned to Josh. “Didn’t you say that when you got me those gorgeous lilies last week?”

  “Yeah. I think she said she was closing up shop sometime this week.”

  Huh. I’d clearly had my head so deeply buried in my own life, I’d failed to notice what was going on in my neighbor’s life. Addison, the florist, was a sweet woman I’d spoken to a few times but had never gotten to know well. She’d only opened the store a few months ago, and florist work was as busy as running a café. I wondered what was going on with her to be closing up shop.

  Josh and Paige continued walking, and I called out, “I’m going to say hi. See you guys tomorrow.”

  “Sure. Have a good night.”

  I knocked tentatively on the glass front door, which was standing ajar, some stacked boxes holding it open. “Hello?”

  “Just a sec!” came a muffled voice from out back.

  “No worries, Addison! It’s just Bailey from the café next door.”

  As I waited, I looked around what had once been a pretty florist shop with tubs of flowers, potted plants, and assorted gifts, including the cutest teddy bears holding balloons that declared things like “It’s a boy!” and “Congratulations!” They were all gone now, replaced with stacks of packing boxes.

  “Hey, Bailey. Great to see you.” Addison entered the shop from out back. She wiped her hands on her dark blue apron and smiled at me. “I guess you can tell I’m leaving.”

  I nodded. “What’s happened?”

  She shrugged, her face breaking out in a smile. “I fell in love.”

  “That’s wonderful, but is it any reason to close up shop?”

  “He lives in Orlando.”

  “Orlando? As in the Florida Orlando? In the US?”

  She nodded, grinning. “I’m moving to Florida!”

  Another woman about my age, fallen in love and changing her life. I tried not to think about it.

  I stepped over some florist paraphernalia to give her a congratulatory hug. “That’s such exciting news.”

  “Thanks. His name is John, and he’s amazing. I think he’s ‘the one.’”

  I returned her smile. She was uprooting her life to move half way around the globe for this guy. I hoped he was “the one,” too—for her sake.

  “Now, if you know anyone who wants to take over the lease on this place, I’d be really grateful. It’s got a long time to run.”

  I glanced around the shop. “It’s a good size. Not too large, not too small.” I spied a familiar looking set of double wooden doors. “Hey, do those doors lead through to my café?”

  “Sure do. Weird to think we’ve been separated by a couple of doors all this time, and didn’t really know one another well. Apparently, your café and this shop used to be one big restaurant back in the ’eighties.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Did you know there’s a gorgeous covered courtyard out back, too?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “There is?”

  “Come with me.”

  I followed her past the counter, through her stock room, and into a quaint courtyard lined with ferns and other plants. There were cobblestones on the ground, and a trickling waterfall against the far wall. A small, rusty wrought iron table with two chairs sat in the middle, a couple of empty Ned’s Coffee cups on top, no doubt from my café.

  I put my hand over my heart as I took it all in. “Addison, this is gorgeous!”

  “I know, right? I had plans to make this into an area for small outdoor plants, but,” she shrugged, “that’s not going to happen now.”

  “When do you go?”

  “Next week.”

  “So soon?”

  She nodded, her smile not dropping for a second.

  I pulled her in for another hug. “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

  We walked back through the backroom and out into the shop.

  “I’ve got a long night of packing and organizing ahead. I’ll stop by for a coffee and say ’bye before I go, ’kay?”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Coffee and cake, on the house.”

  “Your cakes are to die for.”

  She was right, the Cozy Cottage cakes were pretty darn good, if I did say so myself. “Thanks, Addison.”

  “Call me Addi. Even though I’m leaving,” she added with a laugh. “Hey, what’s your number? I’ll let you know how it all works out.”

  We exchanged contact info and said our goodbyes. I walked down the busy street to my bus stop. A long journey through rush hour later—that will teach me not to stop and chat to neighboring florists leaving town for love—and I walked the two blocks to my house.

  I’d been lucky enough to inherit my place from my nona when she passed away seven years ago. She’d lived in it with my grandfather, my nonno, for more than forty-five years, raising their family. She was living in a once-foreign country she learned to call home, though she never lost her passion for Italy. The cooking smells that greeted us at the front door each time we came to visit never failed to make my mouth water.

  Nona taught me to cook, to bake, to have a passion for food. I owed her so much, and I missed her every day of my life.

  I pushed my white wooden gate open and stepped into my modest front yard, hearing the gate creak. I needed to remember to oil that, and although it’d been creaking for at least a year, it wasn’t on my list of priorities.

  Walking up my brick pathway and through the front door, I let out a relieved breath of air as I dropped my purse on the hallway table. I shrugged off my jacket and kicked off my high heeled shoes, my toes thanking me for their emancipation, cooled by the hardwood floors.

  I loved shoes, especially a great pair of heels. Next to food, they were my favorite things, and I could almost rival the famous Imelda Marcos in the number I owned. In fact, I had converted the smallest bedroom in the house into a closet, my shoes lining the walls, a soft ottoman placed in the middle of the room where I sat each morning to slip them on once I’d chosen which pair I would wear for the day.

  I padded into my bedroom, reaching behind myself to unzip my dress. This part was always tricky and I wondered, not for the first time, whether I should attach a piece of long string to my zippers to make unzipping my snug-fitting dresses easier. You needed “hacks’ like that when you lived alone. />
  Finally managing to unzip my dress, I stepped out of it and slipped on a tank top and pair of jean shorts. I pulled the tie out of my long dark hair and ruffled my hair, my curls falling over my shoulders.

  Although I adored my fifties-inspired clothes for work, when I was home, I was strictly a comfort-first girl, eschewing the nipped in waists that contained my hour-glass figure so well. No one was here to see me, so what did it matter?

  I glanced in the mirror, casting a critical eye over myself. Although I wasn’t an eighteen-year-old stick insect with a tiny, perky chest and boyish hips—almost the opposite, in fact—I didn’t think I looked too bad. Sure, my workwear enhanced my assets and hid my thighs, but I looked good enough in my shorts.

  So why couldn’t I find a great guy to date? I was good enough looking, I ran my own business, I didn’t do mean things to kittens.

  Heck, I’d date me.

  Now, all I needed to do was find a guy who a) didn’t want to use me as a prototype for a robot, or b) think he was God’s gift to women.

  Hmm. A much harder task than I’d first thought.

  There was a knock at my front door, interrupting my pity party. In my bare feet, I padded down the hall. Through the textured glass, I could see a tall person, probably a man, standing on my doorstep.

  I furrowed my brow. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “Who is it?” I called as my phone rang in the other room.

  “It’s Ryan . . . Ryan Jones,” a muffled voice replied.

  Ryan? Here?

  My tummy was in knots and my excitement rose inside as a thousand questions slammed into my brain.

  What was he doing here?

  Had he changed his mind about me?

  Why did I have to be dressed in shorts?

  “Just a second!” I was stalling for time.

  I glanced in the mirror above the small table in the hallway. Even though I’d only just been putting myself through a body assessment in my bedroom, I hadn’t been looking for whether my nose was shiny or my mascara smudged. They were, both of them.

  A quick under-eye sweep and nose-blot later, I clenched my hands at my sides, taking a deep breath before I pulled the door open. His back was turned as he looked down the street. And then, just like a leading man in a Hollywood movie, he looked over his shoulder and into my eyes.