A Walk Along the Beach(6)

The first time I stopped by Bean There wasn’t for coffee, nor was it the reason I returned. I happened upon it one early morning and I smelled those freshly baked cinnamon rolls. It was the same aroma I remembered from visits to my grandmother’s. I wasn’t thinking of Grams, however, when I first met Willa. One look and I was mesmerized. I’d watched her deal with an unpleasant customer with patience and grace, not allowing the belligerent man to ruffle her. She listened to his complaint, soothed his anger, and treated him with kindness and respect, none of which he deserved. I knew then this woman was special, and I wanted the opportunity to know her better.

    Her sister was lovely, too, but in an entirely different way. Harper was bubbly and outgoing, strikingly beautiful and vivacious. From those handful of times I’d interacted with Willa I recognized her to be an introvert, quiet and intense, yet also sincere and approachable.

So here I was back again, ordering coffee I wouldn’t drink on the chance of spending a few minutes chatting with Willa. It wasn’t a caffeine fix I needed; it was a Willa fix.

Today was the day.

I was determined that this was the morning I would ask her out. Dinner? A movie? Videogames? Basically, I was willing to do or go anywhere that interested her.

It shouldn’t be difficult. It was what guys did, right? When it came to women, I didn’t usually get tongue-tied and awkward. I’d been in relationships before—several, if the truth be known, especially when I’d played professional baseball. In retrospect, I recognized they had mostly been shallow and empty, based on my fame and the size of my bank account.

Then I blew out my knee and that was the end of that. Not only did I lose my career in sports, but the woman who I’d assumed was the love of my life went with it.

That was a harsh lesson and I’d been gun-shy ever since. Nikki was out of my life and had been for three years. I’d pretty much been living like a monk ever since.

It was time to break out of that mold. Willa gave me hope. She had no idea I’d played professional baseball and wouldn’t have recognized the name Sean O’Malley even if she had. I’d played for the Atlanta Braves for two years, and the biggest splash I’d made, other than a few vital home runs, was when I injured my knee. Even now I walked with a slight limp.

    Parking my car, I walked over to the coffee shop and nearly changed my mind when I saw there was a long line ahead of me. This wasn’t encouraging. Lines meant Willa had to shuffle everyone along. I did take heart when she saw me. She paused and offered me a shy smile. Playing it cool, I lifted my chin, acknowledging her. It seemed her face was flushed, and while I’d like to think it was due to me, I had to assume it had more to do with the heat from the drinks she served. The woman was a marvel when it came to coffee and baking.

When my turn came up, I stepped forward until I stood in front of the cash register.

“Your usual?” Willa asked, offering me one of her signature smiles.

“Sure thing, and I’ll take one of your cinnamon rolls today.”

“You got it.” She immediately set to work filling my order.

It was now or never. “So,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage. “What are you doing…you know…Are you interested in later?”

Willa paused and her gaze shot to mine. She looked confused, which was no wonder. I couldn’t have been less clear. I had no hope I’d do better a second time around, so I stood like an idiot and prayed she’d forget I’d said anything.

“Doing? I’m working…later. We don’t close until three.”

“Right…good to know.”

Kill. Me. Now.

Grabbing my Americano and cinnamon roll, I headed out the door before I made an even bigger fool of myself. I had no clue where the smooth, confident man I’d once been had disappeared to. Willa did that to me. I couldn’t leave the shop fast enough.

With my heart pounding like a locomotive struggling up a steep incline, I speed-walked across the street to a small park and slumped down on the bench. I felt like a loser. How was it that I could face a raging bull elephant in the Maasai Mara in Africa with no more protection than a camera lens without a qualm? Yet facing a pretty girl and asking her to dinner left me shaken to the core. How had that happened? I had to wonder if Nikki had played a role in that and decided she hadn’t. This was all me and my own insecurities.

    The array of brightly colored flowers surrounding the base of a tree captured my attention, and, seeking a distraction, I took a shot with my phone. I took another picture of the front of Bean There, too. I was far more comfortable behind the lens of a camera than I ever was standing before a pitcher in a major league game.

I considered coming back later with something more professional than my phone and taking additional photos of Willa’s shop. I could enlarge one and frame it for her.

While I was staring at the shop, I noticed a stray dog. I’d caught sight of him several times over the last few weeks. He was excessively thin, to the point that his ribs were showing. He lingered near the entrance to Willa’s place of business. I imagined the mutt smelled the baked goods she used to lure in customers and suspected she might have fed him a time or two.

Sure enough, the minute the door opened the stray was ready. A middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize walked out with coffee in one hand and a white sack in the other. As if this was exactly what he’d been waiting for, the dog sprang forward. He grabbed hold of the sack and raced off.