String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) Page 5

  “So aside from Atticus, have you met any new people since you’ve been here?”

  “Besides my landlord? No,” she laughed. “But my best friend is coming out in a few weeks.”

  “Ouch,” I said, taking a sip of my water.

  “Apparently you’re more than a friend, babe,” she quipped, but then her eyes grew wide and she shook her head. “Just kidding.”

  “So tell me about this friend who’s coming out. Should I be jealous?” I teased, knowing that I was treading on shaky ground. But she made it easy with her red cheeks and constant fidgeting.

  “Everyone’s jealous of Jolie,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes.

  “How so?”

  “She’s the crazy one,” Viola answered. “Dani’s the good girl, Millie’s the smart one.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m the dreamer,” she answered without any emotion.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. Not bad. But it leaves you open to a lot of disappointment.”

  “How so?”

  She bit her lip and looked away, and I hoped that she would elaborate. I stayed quiet and gave her some space to choose her next words. I thought it would offer me some insight into the woman who caught my attention as soon as she walked through my door.

  Until that day, I had never tried so hard to befriend a woman in my entire life. But something drew me to her. She seemed scared and strong at the same time, like she had a bone to pick with the world. I found myself saying and doing things that I normally wouldn’t.

  She went out of her way to make sure I knew that she was unavailable, so of course that made me more interested. And I was absolutely flirting with her. I watched as she tried to find the chair to relax in and I didn’t know anyone noticed my staring until Emma walked over and nudged me.

  After two weeks of seeing her in my coffee shop, my employees began to notice the way I looked at her.

  “Why don’t you go talk to her?” she asked. She had been working for me for a while and we had an easy working relationship. Sometimes I felt like she was the sister I never wanted.

  “What are you talking about?” I went back to pretending I was busy when she snatched the piece of paper that had Viola’s order.

  “You aren’t fooling anyone,” she said quietly. “Besides, she just looked over here.”

  “She’s probably trying to make sure she avoids me.”

  “Trust me, a woman doesn’t have that look on her face if she’s avoiding someone.”

  I glanced over and saw that she was reading the same book she had the first day she came in. Surely she’s finished it by now.

  “She’s not interested. Besides, there’s something up with her.”

  “Like?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Is she dating someone? Married?”

  “I don’t remember seeing a ring.”

  The day Vi came into String Beans, it was the first time I acknowledged that I was the owner. I knew my dad would be proud.

  I never planned on leaving my cushy job as a corporate accountant in New York to run the family business. But life had other plans. Dad called to tell me that Mom had suffered a massive stroke, and since I have no siblings, I was left with little options. Mom and Dad gave up so much for me, and I felt obligated to help. He was spending all his time nursing Mom back to health, and the store was starting to tank.

  When I sat down to look at the books, putting my business degree to good use, I discovered how ineffectively the store was run. I crunched some numbers and talked to my dad about some changes he could make and hopefully the store would become profitable again.

  “How long have you owned String Beans?” Viola asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

  “It’s been in the family since before I was born. It was my mom’s dream, and my dad made it happen. But I took it over about a year ago.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She had a stroke and wasn’t able to run it anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She’s okay. I mean, her speech is slower and it takes more time for her to do everyday things, but considering they didn’t think she was going to make it, she’s great.”

  She turned her body toward me and rested her arms on the table. I felt like I was about to be bombarded with a ton of questions.

  “Where did she come up with the name?”

  I leaned back in my chair and laughed as I clasped the back of my neck. “The easy answer, Mom’s obsessed with coffee. But the longer answer is that she wanted to have someplace in the area for people to escape. She loved the idea of being the place people considered their second home…so she named it for coffee beans.”

  “And the string part of it?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but tell me anyway.” She smiled.

  “My dad is a music guy. Can’t sing to save his life and has never played an instrument. But he’s a big fan. I guess she chose the name for her and my dad, because while they’re completely different, they work.”

  She remained quiet for a moment as she considered my answer, but then her smile grew and soon she was laughing softly.

  “Did you just make that up? Because that was pretty damn impressive.”

  “You think?” I questioned, amused by her response.

  “Oh yeah,” she nodded. “That one is sure to get you some dates.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “What did you do before you owned the store?”

  “What do you think I did?” I challenged, mimicking her posture. How a person sees someone else speaks more about them than you.

  She leaned back in her chair and contemplated the question. I was prepared for any number of titles, but not what she said next.

  “Pornography historian?”

  A laugh erupted from me and she smiled, pleased with her joke.

  “Is that a thing?” I asked

  “You tell me. I mean, that is what you did, right?” Viola asked with a smirk.

  “Very funny.”

  “What? Were you something boring like an accountant?”

  My eyes widened, and I nodded my head slowly and watched as her amusement turned to mortification.

  “You’re joking.” She covered her face with her hands and peeked through her fingers. “You are joking, right?”

  “Nope. That was me. Boring accountant guy.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I smiled and pulled one of her hands away with my own. I should have let go. For the life of me, I didn’t know why I was still holding onto it, but I had to release her when she all but shook my hand away.

  “Tell me something about you,” I said, attempting to make things less awkward.

  “Not much to tell.”

  “I don’t believe that. I think you mentioned that you’re crazy?”

  “I didn’t say I was crazy,” she scoffed playfully. “I said my life was crazy.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Oh, there is. Trust me.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  She sat quietly for a moment and looked like she was debating something in her head. Whatever it was, I wanted to hear it, so I sat patiently and waited.

  “Remember how I said that I moved out here to start over?”

  I nodded, but kept quiet because she was opening up.

  “I’m married.”

  Damn.

  “But you’re not wearing a ring,” I commented, pointing to her finger.

  She looked down to study it and I noticed the faint indentation of a band. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up at the ceiling before finally looking at me again. “Yeah, those usually come off when you find your husband in your bed with someone else.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “How long were you together?”

  She looked at me and I instantly regretted the question when I spotted the sadness that filled her eyes.

&nb
sp; “Three years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t know why I was apologizing, because I was pretty sure I was grateful that her marriage was over. And that made me an asshole.

  Her shoulders sagged and she avoided looking at me when she spoke. “I should have seen it coming.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m sorry, can we change the subject?” she asked, turning to face me with a fake smile plastered on her face.

  “Tell me about…Jolie, was it?”

  I liked that the mention of her friend brought her some sense of peace. Vi’s face when she smiled, like she was at that moment, was beautiful.

  “She’s been worried about me since I moved. She’s determined to come out here and kick my ass. Jolie is the type that always needs people around. And since I have no one, I think her first mission is to find me some friends out here.”

  “She doesn’t need to find you anyone—you’ve got me.”

  “Ah, yes. My friend, Mr. Earp. She’ll love you.”

  “Most women love me,” I said without a hint of humor. She scoffed and I cracked, unable to keep up the façade. “Yeah, I know. I can’t pull off the douchy-guy thing.”

  “Oh, I think you’re doing just fine,” she quipped.

  “Damn,” I said, dropping my head and laughing.

  “I’m just kidding,” she answered before refocusing her attention on me.

  Something told me that Viola was going to be hard to get to know. I just hoped she was worth knowing.

  “So which do you prefer: New York or L.A.?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “I don’t know that you can compare them.”

  “Was it hard moving back after being out there?”

  “Originally, when I left New York to help out here, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. I had a girlfriend, a condo, a career…everything was there. But after three weeks in L.A., my girlfriend dumped me and my bosses were threatening to fire me if I didn’t get back within the week. In the end, I was just trying to find someone to sublet my place.”

  “She dumped you while you were helping your family?” She was appalled and I appreciated that she found it offensive too. “That’s pretty shitty.”

  “Yeah. I was out here for a month before I had to go to New York to get my things. Jaime, my ex, heard I was in town and showed up at my door trying to get back together. I guess she figured I was back for good, but when she realized I was moving, she was pissed.”

  “But she broke up with you…I’m confused.”

  “It was the way Jaime liked our relationship…full of drama, usually at her hand. She liked the roller coaster, and I just wanted off. I guess, as crappy as this is going to sound, my mom’s stroke helped me end it for good.”

  “Was it hard to leave your life behind?”

  “I’d be lying if I said no. But it wasn’t the worst thing, either. For most people, L.A. is too congested, too busy. For me, it’s home. And ultimately, my parents needed me, and I wasn’t going to bail on them.”

  “Sounds like they’re lucky to have you,” she complimented.

  I didn’t have a chance to respond because Jeff walked out to say hello. He made it a point to greet his customers and get to know the locals. My friend was always loud and boisterous and it was something all of his regulars had gotten used to.

  “Good to see you, man,” he said, patting my back.

  “Yeah, you too.” I looked at the woman next to me and smiled. “Jeff, this is Viola. Viola, this is my friend Jeff. He owns this dump.”

  Jeff laughed because he knew I was joking. “I was going to say your meal is on the house, but forget it now.”

  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Vi smiled.

  “What are you doing with this guy?” Jeff teased. “You could do so much better.”

  “Oh no,” she objected, shaking her head and making it absolutely clear we were not together. I didn’t mind, but did she have to be so offended by the idea?

  “Smart girl,” he said. “I’ll bring your food out in a minute.”

  He walked away, leaving a strange vibe in the air.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to sound so rude.”

  “You could do worse,” I teased.

  “I’ve married worse,” she joked, but recoiled at her own words.

  “Too soon?” I questioned, offering a smile.

  Our food was placed in front of us, leaving many questions unanswered…but I was beginning to think finding the answers was going to be fun.

  Chapter 6

  VIOLA

  I haven’t lived alone since…well, ever.

  I went from my parents’ house to rooming with Dani, Jolie, and Millie to finally getting married and living with Will. It wasn’t in my nature to go out of my way to befriend people—not because I was rude, but because I tended to live in my own head. I watched everything around me, and sometimes the things I saw became lyrics in my head.

  The girls had done a pretty decent job of getting me out of myself, but after marriage, it seemed that it wasn’t easy for me.

  As much as I enjoyed the performances during open mic night, I wasn’t as comfortable with the after-party. When Wyatt suggested we get something to eat at his friend Jeff’s place, I wanted to run in the direction of my apartment and not look back. But he was right: it was just dinner. But that dinner felt a whole hell of a lot like a date, and I definitely wasn’t ready to enter that arena.

  And that’s why I avoided the coffee shop for nearly a week afterwards.

  Still, I found myself thinking about Wyatt, and that was unsettling. After days of avoidance, I decided I had a craving for something sweet, and I knew that the pastries at the coffee shop would hit the spot. I wasn’t working at the bookstore until the following Tuesday, so I found myself with a chunk of free time on my hands.

  I stopped in front of the mirror in the bathroom and checked my appearance, but rolled my eyes at myself. I could lie and say I wasn’t trying to impress him, but I knew the truth. A part of me was nervous to see Wyatt. And the other part was hoping to see him and get a bit of an ego boost.

  As I was stepping out into the hallway of my building, my attention was pulled away from the current task of locking my door.

  “Hey,” I heard a chipper feminine voice call from down the walkway. She had a thick southern drawl that made me stop in my tracks despite my attempts to ignore it. I didn’t know anyone—hell, I’d only lived in the small building for a few weeks—but I turned around despite myself. “You’re the new renter in 3B?”

  I looked behind me, glancing at the metal numbers drilled into the door. I was silently hoping that they had magically morphed into 1C or 2B…anything but 3B.

  Damn. No such luck.

  “Oh yeah. Sorry,” I fumbled. “I thought you were talking to someone else. I’m Viola.”

  “I’m Callie Hanes,” she said with a friendly smile as she walked over with her hand outstretched. Callie’s blond ponytail bobbed behind her. “I’m in 2A. Where’re you from?”

  “Me? I…I’m from Spring Park. You?”

  “Cali girl, huh? I knew it, just the way your voice sounds. It’s so…normal,” she said with a smile. “I’m from Oklahoma.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I finished locking the door to the apartment and waited for her to get the hint, but she just stood watching me.

  I guess she wants to make conversation.

  “So how long have you lived here?” I finally asked as I was beginning to feel trapped between Callie and the door.

  “About six months,” she answered, her smile wavering slightly. I swear there was a hint of disappointment in her tone at her admission, but she pushed her shoulders back and jutted out her chin. “What brings you out here?”

  Ah, the million-dollar question. Nothing ends an awkward conversation quicker than a truth bomb.

  “I’m recently separated,” I said simply, hoping that the blunt answer would scare the girl awa
y.

  Callie’s smile faded and her brows pinched together as she studied me closer than I was comfortable with.

  You can run away now.

  Go.

  Shoo.

  But she just stood there.

  “You’re joking, right? You’re like what, nineteen?”

  “Add five to that and then you’ve got it.” I smiled tightly.

  “You’re married?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I was married. I am… Now I’m …not. It’s complicated.”

  I sidestepped the blond bombshell in front of me and made my way down the steps, but I could feel her behind me, questioning without saying a word.

  “I’m sorry to be rude, Callie,” I said, turning halfway down the stairs, “but I’m headed to the coffee shop.”

  “String Beans?” she asked hopefully. “Mind if I tag along?”

  I thought I’d done a pretty good job of scaring the girl off. I was staring at her wide-eyed and mouth agape, but clearly it was lost on Callie. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the cobwebs that seemed to have taken residence in my brain, but it did nothing to relieve the ramblings in my head. Still, Callie followed me as I made my way down the stairs and to the sidewalk. I felt like I’d somehow inherited a lost puppy that I never intended on keeping.

  I didn’t say a word to her, but I could tell that she wanted to ask me something, so I stopped walking and waited for it.

  “What happened with your husband?”

  I hated to see the look in people’s eyes when I told them what went wrong. I’d seen it with Bethany, I saw it with my contact at the temp agency, and I saw a flash of it with Wyatt. I wished I could say we grew apart or something equally mature, but all I had was the truth.

  “He cheated on me.”

  Callie flinched at the honesty in my words and I found myself trying to ease her mind.

  “I guess that’s what happens when you marry young.” I shrugged before turning in the direction of the coffee shop. She was poised in the spot where I vomited my reality on her, but it wasn’t long before she was following me again.