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She squeezes her phone and approaches. “You could have just caught it.” She nods toward the dented head underneath her arm. Gone is the irritation from her voice. If I’m not mistaken, I detect a hint of humor in her tone.
Humor, I can work with that. “You could have given me a better heads up than I’m going to kill you.”
The corners of her lips curl into a smirk. “Heads up—nice.”
I hadn’t realized what I said, and I burst into laughter. Her smirk transforms into that radiant smile, which I quickly memorize. This time, I’ve earned it. The air electrifies around us. Her dimple returns, and I make sure to note it’s on her right cheek. I point to the Coffee Loft. “I’m sure they have Tylenol in there, for massive headaches.”
She takes a stride toward the café entrance. “Jokes, Bruce Leroy has jokes.”
“No way. That was my dad’s…” I begin.
“Mine’s too. Berry Gordie was a god in my Nana’s house,” she finishes my thoughts. What are the odds I’d cross paths with someone familiar with the movieThe Last Dragon. It was one of the cheesiest of cheesy Bruce Lee knock off movies from the 80s. This one was set in a California hood with the main character an African American kid named Bruce Leroy. It was produced by the head of Motown Records Berry Gordie.
She pauses next to me, and I inspect the damaged head. “I’m sorry. Devon.”
The smirk remains plastered on her face as she extends the pinkie of the hand holding her phone. “Well, sorry, Devon. I’m Zara, and I’m not sorry.”
I give her pinkie an awkward handshake that causes her to giggle. “I may know a shrink that can help fix your friend here.”
“Well, sorry, Devon, do you go by Mister Devon, or do you use your first name, Sorry?”
She’s teasing, but there’s a spark in her eyes that makes my heart skip a beat. Our gazes lock, and, in that moment, the world around us fades away. It’s as if I’ve known her forever, yet I’m seeing her for the first time. The connection is instant, electric, and undeniable. “Devon will do just fine.”
“Good, well then, Devon, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She pauses, her eyes twinkling with mischief, waiting for me to catch her pun. I give her an exaggerated air clap, and her giggle is like music to my ears. “I’m a professional, I can fix him.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to slander your profession. Are you a psychiatrist?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Naw, I can’t even stay in my own head. Every thought I have seems to find its way out of my mouth. I’m a fashion designer.” She twists the giant head. “At least that’s what I tell myself most days.”
I hear a familiar doubt in her voice and want to ask but don’t.
“What about you? Kung Fu instructor?” Her smile is disarming, and I feel my defenses crumble.
“Nothing as exciting. I’m an…” Marvin’s voice screams in my head. No one must know what I do for a living. I turn away from Zara, unable to spill a lie to her face. I look at the entrance to the shop. “As of today, I’m a barista. I work here.” My voice quivers, and I wait to be called on it.
“Really? I didn’t know Mrs. Whitehead was hiring. I guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you then.”
I twist to face her, trying to decipher her words. “Bad coffee habit?” I try to keep it light.
“Worse. I’m one of those horrible people who camp out in a coffee shop all day, using the Wi-Fi.” She must read the confusion on my face. She adjusts the giant head under her arm. “I live a few blocks away. I technically work from home, but where’s the fun in that when inspiration and fascinating people are so close?”
“Shall we then?” I extend my hand to help her carry the head.
“You want to hold my head, Devon? Shouldn’t you buy a girl a drink first?”
I chuckle and take the head from her. “I think I can arrange that. Two words—employee discount.”
“I’m so going to take advantage of you…” She pauses, teasing the line like a promise. “…your discount. You have no idea what you’ve agreed to.”
We fall into a laugh. “I can’t wait to find out.” I twist the head, pointing the giant eyes in her direction. “I’ll keep my eyes on you.”
She lifts a hand to hide the silly grin, and my mind races ahead to what I can say next to keep her laughing. Gone is the anxiety I felt pulling up to the shop. Gone are the concerns Marvin placed on my shoulders. I hold the head in one hand and the door open for her with the other. “Let’s head in.”
She lowers her chin to her chest to hide her laugh, but not before I get to witness her dimple pop. “Head in—nice Bruce Leroy. Very nice indeed.”
I follow Zara into the café, my sentiment matching hers. Everything about meeting her has been just that—nice. I’m not in L.A., I’m in Crestline. The air is cleaner, the people friendlier, and the vibe… well, it’s something I could get used to. Maybe this assignment is exactly what I need. It’s already off to a fantastic start. All I have to do is trust my instinct.
Chapter Two
