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Finn turns to me, his eyes sparkling, and he grins. “Oh! We forgot to tell you about Lucy. She’s this nice lady we met at the coffee shop. She’s American and moved here by herself about a month ago. She used to be a schoolteacher in the States. We asked what brought her to town—she always dreamed of living in England and once she finished her teaching career, she took the plunge and moved here. I think she is teaching university classes now.” He barely stops to catch his breath as he goes on about this woman. If she just finished her teaching career, that would mean she picked London as a place to live out her retirement.
“She reads at the coffee shop where we double date,and we would try to guess what she was reading when we were bored, so one night, I dared Oliver to ask her what she was reading. He did and we’ve kind of brought her into the group after that.”
Well, it doesn’t seem to be a hook-up at all. It sounds like my boys have befriended a lonely, older woman. Pride washes over me; my sons have done a nice thing, and she must have a good sense of humor to put up with them on more than one occasion. The more I think about it, the more I want to befriend this elderly woman too. Might be nice to have an older female companion.
“So what is it that you will win tonight?” I am still puzzled about that part.
Oliver leans over, “Well, we’ve continued trying to guess what Lucy is reading at the moment. Her favorite hobby is reading. I think her only regret about moving here is that she couldn’t bring her library with her. She mostly uses her e-reader.”
“So you just pick book titles out of the infinite amount of books she can be reading. How can you ever guess correctly?”
“We mainly guess genres,” Finn answered. “Hannah won that first night.”
“What was she reading when Hannah won?” I asked.
“The Great Gatsby” Finn shakes his head and mutters, “Typical American.”
Could be worse—she could have been reading a romance novel.The Great Gatsbyis certainly not a romantic book. If anything, it’s a cautionary tale against it. “Interesting, well I’m looking forward to our evening then.”
As we turn the corner, the Regency Roast Coffee Shop appears to our right. The establishment’s choice of name always makes me chuckle. I spot Hannah and Mia at a table right inside the window. Greetings are exchanged as we enter, and I sit and begin looking around for the older woman.
“Does Lucy take a taxi to get here?” I ask the table.
Mia answers, “She usually walks. Her apartment isn’t too far. Just a couple of blocks in that direction.” She points in the opposite direction than we came.
“Oh wow, she walks here…by herself,” I say. I guess she isn’t as fragile as I was thinking. Good for her, a woman of her advanced age.
I hear the chimes of the coffee shop door open and look up. In walks a beautiful, tall woman with long brown hair. She’s bundled up in a black peacoat that hugs her curves with a long scarf that runs the length of her body, meeting the top of her boots at her knees. A matching hat sits on the back of her head. Perhaps she is also planning to sit in the shop while enjoying her order. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind if I slipped away to chat her up. She meets my eyes and I’m locked in her trance. Tonight might turn out better than expected.
Before I can decide how best to make my move, I hear Hannah shout, “Lucy! We are over here.” The woman turns to Hannah and approaches the table.
This is Lucy…
Well, fuck.
Four
LUCY
It’s toochilly to sit outside, but I embraced every moment of the brisk walk here. How I enjoy this time of year. In anticipation of cold weather and coming out tonight, I treated myself to a houndstooth pattern hat and matching scarf at a local boutique I discovered downtown.
Still a few steps away, I spot our group behind the Regency Roast Coffee Shop decal at the large table to the right of the door. Before anyone observes me walking up, I notice the addition to our usual group. He’s at the head of the table, sitting next to Oliver. He’s gorgeous. Well, my definition of gorgeous. Sure, Oliver and Finn are good-looking men, but they are young. This man is older than them, older than me if I had to guess. His hair and his beard match predominantly brown with gray strands spread throughout. It’s ruffled like he had been wearing a hat before coming here today. I bet he looks even sexier in a hat. A broad chest hovers over his folded arms on the table in front of him.
Pulling the heavy door open, I keep my eyes on thehandsome stranger as I enter. The bell above my head chimes, catching his attention. His brown eyes meet mine and I can no longer remember my name. A connection is made instantly, my body feels the push from the universe. I want to walk right over there and curl up in his lap and then never leave it.
“Lucy! We are over here,” Hannah yells, and my eye contact with the gorgeous man ends. How long was I staring at this man? It feels like it could have been hours, but as I look at my friends there is no sign of awkwardness in their expressions. Okay, act cool,tryto act cool, and look friendly.
“Hello!”Careful walking—now is not the time to trip over your own feet. I look around at each of my friends, avoiding eye contact with the sexy stranger for now. Someone needs to speak up and introduce us. I look at Oliver next. He’s sitting next to this man. He’s dropping the ball here. Wait, why am I waiting for an introduction? This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. It’s the 21st century, and I can introduce myself! Yet, I’m having trouble thinking of the perfect flirty line to say when…
“Lucy, let me introduce you to our father, Henry Brooks,” Finn finally speaks up. Their father? He continues, “Dad, this is Lucy Taylor. We told you about her earlier.”Wait. Wait. What?This man is their father. I need to shut down the endless DILF jokes running through my head.
Finally, I return my gaze to my friend’s extremely attractive father. Oh, man. “It’s nice to meet you.” I play it cool and don’t wait for his response, “Does anyone need anything? I’m going to go order.” With a round of “no’s”and “no thank you’s,” I notice Henry has his head down in Oliver’s direction. Mr. Sexy doesn’t need anything. I hang my coat on the back of my chair at the far end of the table and head up to the counter.
“What were you thinking orchestrating this?” Henry asks Oliver, not as quietly as he was obviously intending.
“What are you talking about?” Oliver answers, sounding genuine.
“Is this another one of your setups? You know that type of woman I prefer to date? She’s nothing like them,” his father replies.
