Naked Love(7)

“That sucks.”

“Totally.” I nod.

She shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt to just window-shop.” Her head snaps toward the door to the cafe.

I focus on Swarley.

The young woman pulls out a chair and takes a seat. “I’ll watch him. Go tell Jake you want The Kermit, half the dandelion, extra apple.”

I nod slowly. “Thanks.”

Michael Bublé belts out the chorus to “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” over the high-pitched hum of the blender. It’s just like the L.A. location—hippie posters, mismatched tables, everything recycled or reclaimed. I don’t fit in here.

“Cute shorts.” A tall, very Gwyneth Paltrow looking blonde shoots me a welcoming smile as she pours a dark red smoothie into a mason jar, tops it with fruit and mint garnish, and slides it to an older lady sitting at the bar, reading a book.

“Thanks. They’re Paige cuffed denim. And old … I got them at the beginning of last summer. My boyfriend decided to screw his cook before I could acquire a new wardrobe for this summer.”

She laughs. “I don’t know anything about Paige cuffed denim, and my wardrobe is from five years ago, and even then I got it from a secondhand store, but I’m sorry to hear about your boyfriend cheating on you.”

Five-year-old clothes from a secondhand store. I just want to hug the poor thing or take her shopping. “Yeah, all men are lying, cheating, monkey-spanking dick cheese.”

The deep rumble of a man clearing his throat startles me. I didn’t see him over in the corner behind the glass display. He’s all muscly and tatted up—messy copper and golden blond hair. Challenging, dark eyes pin me to my spot as he glances over his broad shoulder, straining the corded muscles in his neck.

The Gwyneth lookalike chuckles. “Jake, you and your fellow men have a new title. I rather like it, don’t you?”

Jake inspects me with wandering eyes. It’s nothing new.

“I’m not impressed,” he says and turns back to cutting vegetables.

Uh … wait just a minute. Not impressed with what? Me? What I said? Me?!? Do I care? No. Yes. Hell no.

Okay … I sort of care.

Gah!

I have—well, had—a client who teaches motivational classes for women. She’s a bit unconventional or so I’ve heard. One of her classes is called Give No Fucks, Take No Shit. She offered me a free class. At the time I was in love with Anthony Bent Dick Bianchi, taking lots of shit and giving lots of fucks, so I declined her offer.

Now, I’m thinking that was a mistake.

“What can we get you?”

My attention snaps back to the nice person behind the counter. “I was told to ask Jake for The Kermit, half the dandelion, extra apples. But …” My eyes flit to him. He keeps his back to me like I didn’t just say his name. “I think I’d prefer you to make it for me.”

The knife in his hand thunks against the chopping board. Jake turns slowly, a poisonous smile curling his lips. “Bethanne, I’ve got this.”

Gwyneth Bethanne winks at me before grabbing dirty dishes from the counter and disappearing into the back room.

The older lady at the counter slides off the stool. “Bye, Jake.” She takes her drink and gives me a polite smile as she breezes to the door. Does he let her just leave with it? Do they not have to-go cups in Milwaukee?

“Have a seat, Paige.” Jake nods to the vacated barstool.

“Avery not Paige.” I climb up onto the stool. “My shorts are Paige. That’s a brand, not my name. What brand are your shorts?”

Jake shoves greens and other things into the juicer, never taking his eyes off me. “Do I look like the kind of guy who knows what brand I’m wearing without looking at the tag?” he yells over the juicer.

I wait for him to finish so I don’t have to yell back at him. “I don’t know. I’m a preacher’s daughter. You know … thou shalt not judge.”

He slides the glass toward me. I catch it on a gasp, eyes wide, jaw slack with disbelief. Had I not stopped it, I would have green juice all down the front of my shirt.

“Yeah, there’s nothing about you that feels judgmental.” He shrugs. “But what do I know? I’m just monkey-spanking dick cheese.”

I take a sip of the green drink. “Not bad.”

He shakes his head, tipping his chin down to hide his smirk. “Something tells me that’s the equivalent of a glowing review coming from you.”

“Now who’s being judgmental?” I set a ten-dollar bill onto the counter as I stand, grabbing my handbag and the green drink.

“I’m not a preacher’s daughter. The rules don’t apply to me.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Keep the change.”

“Are you drinking that outside?”

“No.” I slide on my sunglasses. “I need to get back to …” Deedy’s? My dad’s house? Hell? “Somewhere.”

“Then I’ll put it in a to-go cup. You can’t take off with my glass.”

I turn. “Uh … I just watched that lady walk out of here with a glass.”

“She’ll be back. Same time. Same order. Everyday.”

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

“I doubt it.” He scoffs.