He's So Not My Valentine (Cataloochee Coffee Shop Romances, #2)

by Savannah Scott

It’s late. I need sleep. Mornings always feel better. Middle-of-the-night crises shrink back to right-sized annoyances in the light of dawn.

“A day when you force men to attend to the women they love?” I ask. “Should they not be doing that every day? Why have a holiday to make a show of it?” “Exactly,” Pierre agrees. Then he looks over at Tasha and begins to pedal in reverse. “Though, it’s wonderful to celebrate with you. I love the extra reminder. It’s … my favorite. J'adore le jour de la Saint-Valentin.”

Here’s the problem with life-long friends. They know you—like, really, really know you. And right now, Hannah’s little inquisitive brain can see right through me. She knows darn well I’m the only one Rene kissed.

Her strength makes me proud, which is odd. She’s not mine to feel proud of. And the obvious vulnerability she’s trying to hide draws up this unfamiliar desire to care for her.

All I know are the empty places Pierre used to fill in Avignon, not the new places he’s claimed for himself here.

“One cwah-sahhhnt and an espresso coming right up.” She mocks my accent, and surprisingly, I love it. No one mocks me—besides my siblings and Pierre.

“We’re both adults here, Heather, so I will speak plainly. You are an intelligent woman. You hold this shop together, never letting a cup go empty and never allowing any customer to feel neglected. You manage to mother your son with the right balance of care and firmness even though you are surely exhausted at the end of every day. And yet, when I see you—when most men see you—we don’t see a harried business owner or a single mom barely hanging on to all the details of her overwhelming life. We see a woman who is captivating, intriguing, and beautiful. And that is why I would be watching you.”

okay. nice.

She blushes, again. It’s a beautiful sight. Better than a sunrise over the Rhone river, or a walk in a field of lavender, or the smell of this fresh espresso and warm croissant. This blush. It’s enough to fuel my day.

Being an adult is mostly being exhausted, wishing you hadn't made plans, and wondering how you hurt your back. ~ Unknown

I expected him to fawn all over Hannah, but he surprised me by being cordial and charming, yet a little aloof. Why I care is something I don’t have time or energy to get into.

“Define romantically interested.” “Hannah.” “Okay. But tell me you wouldn’t want him to kiss both your cheeks again and then possibly let his lips drift a little more to the center of your face, to … oh, I don’t know … your lips?”

That could be my life-motto, come to think of it. Woman: in search of someone reliable. What a low bar I’ve come to set for myself. But, then again, who knew reliability would be such a rare commodity?

Now, go and get ready for whatever plans you have. Be young while you can. Life keeps rolling by and one day you won’t be able to bend to tie your shoe without letting out some sort of noise or another. Now’s the time to grab up the fun.” I chuckle at Floyd’s odd version of a motivational talk.

“May I?” Rene extends his hand toward me as if he knows I’m the equivalent of a newborn baby giraffe. Sexy, I know. What can I say?

“You can run a business and raise a child single-handedly.” Rene smiles softly. “I’m quite sure you can make it across a driveway. I was offering because I need something to do with my hands after seeing you looking like that.” “Oh.” Oh.

It’s just a brush of his lips gently across my skin while his eyes hold mine. I feel that kiss everywhere. I’m stunned and overwhelmed and on fire. No biggie. Pay no attention to the woman who hasn’t been kissed in five-plus years. Six? Who knows. All I do know is that Rene’s kiss to the back of my hand was hotter than most kisses I’ve ever had anywhere over my entire lifetime.

I highly doubt she will be alone. She has far too much to offer. Some man will come along and steal her heart. She will not be in ugly socks eating soup out of a can unless she is sitting next to the man wearing matching socks and holding another bowl of the same soup.”

“Okay.” Heather blows out a breath. “Let’s do this.” I smile at her. She is so strong. What a woman.

Those words feel like they allude to more than this temporarily short-staffed day at the shop. I thought I could manage alone too. And I have. I just don’t think I want to anymore.

“Do another one!” Nate commands. “Slaayyy, bro.” Rene looks at Nate for his approval and Nate beams over at him with a look I don’t think I’ve ever seen him give another adult. “Did you just say, ‘Slay, bro?’” I ask, unable to hide my amusement. This. This is what it would be like to come home to a man who loved my son.

“Hey, everyone! We’re home!” She refers to herself as we now that she’s pregnant. It’s pretty adorable.

“Okay. We’ll stay. But I have to get Nate home in two hours. It’s a school night.” “Yay!” Nate shouts. “Slay, bae!” Rene shouts after him. And the whole room erupts in laughter.

“So, now that you have a free afternoon, what will you do with yourself?” “I will sit there.” I point to the couch. “And read my book.” “You need to get out more.” “I am out. My home is four thousand, five hundred miles away. I am very out.”

“I’ll be reading over there.” “Reading? You aren’t even in school.” “I know. It’s crazy. But I still read even though no one forces me anymore.” “Gross.” Nate dashes to the couch and starts to unzip his backpack.

You know that tingly little feeling you get when you like someone? That is your common sense leaving your body. ~ Unknown

I have the surprising urge to stride across the room, take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him—really kiss him. Instead, I grab the mop. It’s a reliable second choice when faced with the option of kissing a hot Frenchman. I must be losing my ever-living marbles.

“That song sounded familiar,” I say, because saying, kiss me, now, is not an option.

Tequila Mockingbird?”

wait, dang it, what book was that...? I definitely read it.

“He and I were outside the shop and I told him I was going to take a bath.” “What? Why?” “Stop interrupting me! He asked. Okay?” “He asked if you were going to take a bath?” “No. Of course he didn’t ask. He asked what I was doing and I said I was taking a bath. Alone.” “Oh, hunny. You really are rusty, aren’t you?” “Not helping. Not helping at all.”

lol!

Go. Get dressed. Wear something mid-level sexy. Nothing too bold, but something that says to him, I heard you call this a date and I’m here for it. You know?”

“Okay, gorgeous. Let’s get you date-ready.” “Let’s not use that word. Okay?” “Nope. No can do. Let’s use that word until you believe it. Date, date, date. Rene is taking you on a date. You are dateable. Date-lectible. Date-tabulous. Date-a-licious. You’re the date that’s oh-so-great. Dater, dater, hot potater. This girl’s going on a date!”

“Good. That is where we will go on our next date.” There it is … that word. “Our next date?” “Oui. I am taking you out again. Maybe this weekend.” “Bossy.”