4. Camilla

4

CAMILLA

I can't believe I did that. Turned my back on the highest payout of my career.

I could have just sucked it up and gone to Hawaii on my own. Kept my head down, put my nose to the grindstone. I'm used to that.

Except the way Seth sold me the idea of working with Jack, the idea that this would be a step up, I couldn't help but feel the tension building between Jack and me.

The problem is that that tension was too overwhelming. There was no way I could handle it. And it's not like Jack isn't attractive because oh, my lord, he is!

Every day I walked into the penthouse, I was determined not to think that and then he'd show up to the door in a crisp dress shirt and a pair of sensible pants and loafers . I mean, who wears loafers in their own home?

I guess he was really trying to get it right. And I almost feel bad for him.

Almost .

I hit my breaking point today not only because of his acting like…like an ogre, but because by noon, he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and god , the man has great forearms.

I was running a fever, and it was ready to spike.

Too bad it came out the way it did.

I haven't gotten the confidence to reach out to Seth yet. I have a feeling he'd take me right back, but I'm not sure I could face his disappointment.

"Cami? Honey?"

I snap back to attention, staring into the screen of my phone. My parents are scrunched together at the kitchen table of my childhood home, staring at me.

"You okay?" Mom asks, her frown mixing with the ever-present wrinkles on her forehead.

"Yeah, sorry, sorry, I was just thinking about…work stuff."

My mom and dad look at each other, lips thinned out. I know that look. That's the look they've been giving each other since I moved to New York for undergrad.

"Cami, we're worried about you," Dad says.

It's always the same. If it's not one thing, it's another. Worried about my safety, my tendency toward overworking myself, my lack of iron.

"Dad, I'm fine." But I'm so not. This is one of the few times I'm really not fine. However, they don't need to know that.

"Why don't you come home for a visit?" he asks, giving me a bright smile.

"Or! Come home and stay! For…forever!" Mom adds with a similar grin.

"Mom…"

"Oh, come on, honey, all your siblings are here! And we're here! You move in with us, take some time to find a job. You could actually date!"

My father runs his hand over his mostly bald head. "Now, Lisa, that's a bit–"

"I'm just saying! You know, men out here are interested in settling down faster than men out there. Why work if you don't have to?"

I love my parents. I really love them. I had a great childhood because they adopted me. However, I want to make my own way.

I want to know who I am when I'm just me, not the me I have to be around them.

They were already forty by the time they adopted me. All my siblings were ten and older. I love them, but we were never as close as we could have been if I were really their blood.

Besides, I need to know where I came from, Who I was supposed to be? I need to know myself. Because most of the time, I just feel so alone. So lost.

And though I love my family to bits, and they never made me feel less than unconditionally loved, I'm always the odd one out.

"You know I don't fit in there."

My mom gasps. "That's ridiculous. You grew up here! Of course, you do."

Through the grainy screen, my father keeps silent. No one likes to talk about the fact I'm different. But on an all-blond family, my Latino brunette is glaring.

And it's not that there aren't Latino communities in Nebraska, but I don't belong there. I don't know Spanish, I don't have any cultural ties, I feel like an outsider both to my people and to my family. Always looking in, never really fitting in.

My parents did what they could. They thought love was enough. And as much as it meant to me to be loved, I find myself needing that something else that I have no idea what it is.

"Thank you, Mom. I appreciate it. And I will keep it in mind. But for now, I think I'll be okay."

Mom shuts her mouth tight, her disappointment obvious. They really do love me like one of their own. They'd tell you I am one of their own.

That counts for something, doesn't it?

Dad puts his hand around the back of Mom's chair.

I smile.

I've had a really good role model for what love looks like, that's for sure.

"You know you're always welcome here, Cami. No matter how old you are or if it's the middle of the night or–"

A text message pops up at the top of the screen.

From Jack Lyons.

Why is he texting me?

"I know, Dad. Thank you. Truly. And I'm sorry, but I just got a work message I need to check on really fast. I'll call you back!" I quit out of facetime before they can say their goodbyes.

I owe them for that.

My message thread with Jack is limited. Simple negotiations of time and coffee and lunch orders.

However, this message is different.

I fucked up. I don't deserve a second chance, but if you're willing to give me one, let me take you to coffee.

I smile.

Why am I smiling? It's not a sweet, flirty message. It's a message from my now former boss, the one who didn't seem to think I was worthwhile to his business.

Until it was too late.

But he reached out.

And I wasn't a saint, though. I lost my temper. I don't like losing it, not like that. I'm so measured, so in control of my day-to-day life. It takes a lot for someone to push me over the edge.

He's not the only one in this situation in need of a second chance.

I think about the money. About the possibility. If he really is willing to make it up to me, who knows what we can accomplish together.

I type a message in return.

Let me know a time and a place and I'll be there. After all, you're the coffee expert.

I'm shocked when he sends a laughing emoji as a reaction to my message.

Fair. I know just the place.

When I enter the corner coffee shop, Jack is already sitting and waiting for me.

I was shocked when I realized the shop he had chosen is in the Bronx. The Bronx . That's way closer to my apartment in Harlem than his in FiDi, but I doubt he chose this place for ease of access.

He's the coffee guy. So, the coffee better be good.

When Jack sees me, he stands to greet me and something about that is so sexy.

I tamp down the feeling and shake his hand when I see him. "Hi, Jack."

"Camilla. Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course." I put my purse down on my chair and throw a look toward the wordy menu over the counter. The place is a classic New York Amalgam of an old, updated building and hipster coffee shop. The place could have been an old deli from the looks of the tile and the pastry case. "Let me just order something and–"

"Oh, no, I've taken care of that."

I shoot a surprised look in Jack's direction.

He smiles, a rare smile that reaches his eyes. "I am the coffee expert, remember?"

I smile back without even realizing. "Um, yeah. Yeah, you are. Fine. Show me your stuff, Lyons."

As soon as we're seated, one of the baristas comes over with a flight of coffees. I never knew coffee shops did things like this.

"Thank you, Zeke," Jack says to the barista.

"Any time." The barista nods. "I'll bring some fresh scones over once they're out of the oven."

"Thank you." Once Zeke has disappeared behind the counter, Jack looks at me. "This is one of my favorite places in the city."

"Must be really good if you're willing to schlep all the way out here from FiDi."

He chuckles, eyes falling. "It's pretty much the only thing I do outside of working. Trying coffee shops." With a soft gesture of his hand toward the flight of four cups, he says, "Please, you go ahead."

"I'm not going to be able to drink all of this on my own. I'll be shaking into next century." I take the first cup off the flight. Even though they're the size of espresso cups, I can't help but worry about the caffeine.

"Only have what you want, then. I know you prefer lattes and all the fancy stuff, but if we're going to be doing work together, you ought to learn a bit more about the product."

I pause with the cup halfway to my mouth, raising an eyebrow. "So, are you un-firing me?"

Jack raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side. "That depends. Do you un-quit?"

I'm feeling a little bratty. "I guess we'll see how I feel after the coffee."

Jack nods. "Fair enough."

I sip from the first cup. It's bitter, but good.

"So, if you're not familiar with tasting coffee, just take your time. Let it sit on your tongue."

I take another sip and do as he says.

"This is a Mexican coffee. Sweet, if you can call coffee that. Notes of caramel, brown sugar…"

I can't say I get the specific notes, but I can start to sense the sweetness. I swallow the coffee and nod. "I like that."

"Yes, it's a nice light roast. Light roasts can be so…flaccid. But this place does it right."

"Flaccid?"

Jack's cool-toned cheeks redden. "Well, you know what I mean. Light roasts can be watery and lack body."

"I see." I can't contain a giggle.

"I have to watch what I say around you, hm?" Jack asks through a light laugh.

I nod. "Always. I might be a professional, but when you say things that would make a middle schooler laugh…"

"Noted."

I put the first coffee down and move to the second. "So, what changed your mind? With the un-firing?"

Jack leans back in his seat. "I didn't like the way I handled myself."

"I wasn't at my best either. But I'm glad you're self-aware."

"Yeah, it was embarrassing to say the least."

I consider Jack for a moment. He's not looking at me, his eyes downcast. He must shave every morning for his face to look so smooth.

I won't lie, there's a part of me that would love to know how my lips feel against such smooth skin. The scruffy look is so in vogue that I can't remember the last man I kissed who didn't have facial hair.

"I want to be good at this, Camilla. And I'm not."

"You're learning. That's okay."

Jack sighs. "I'm worried I won't."

"You just started. And if you maybe listened to the person who has a bit of experience, you might find yourself learning faster than you expected."

Jack appraises me with his dark eyes. Dense forest. Wet earth. Gorgeous. Inviting in an ethereal way.

I sip the coffee in my hand. As I let it rest on my tongue, I'm struck by the acidity.

"Ecuador. Green apple. Plum. Lemon."

I swallow, grimacing. "I can taste that."

Jack laughs. "Not your taste, that's just fine."

He walks me through the last two coffees. The silky and chocolatey house blend and then a deep espresso.

I've never realized just how different black coffees can be, have never taken the time to learn, I suppose. But Jack knows his stuff. Knows the notes, the origins, and more.

Zeke brings out scones along with a lavender latte for me that Jack ordered ahead. It's decorated with latte art and a smattering of dried lavender.

"A New York staple, the lavender latte," Jack says. "I think it's a bit overdone at this point."

"Yes, for a serious coffee drinker like you."

Jack shakes his head. "No, no. I'm not going to be militant about how people drink their coffee. I want the place to be quintessentially Hawaiian. Not in a touristy way, not like hula dancers on the dashboard and leis and…I'm working on a hibiscus syrup for a latte recipe."

"I had no idea you…" I frown. "I'm confused."

He folds his hands and sets them on top of the table, leaning forward. "Look, I told you I'm not good at this."

"You seem to actually care. I had no idea from the way you were acting. I thought you were just a rich guy who wanted to start a business because he could."

Jack's jaw tightens.

"I didn't mean to offend you." I ought to be more careful. Just yesterday we were coming to blows over a trip to Hawaii.

"You didn't. To be honest with you, I always thought opening a coffee shop was a bit silly. Compared to being a floor trader, you know, it lacks the gravitas I feel I'm supposed to have."

I shake my head. "That's silly."

"See?"

"No, that thought! Not the shop. The thought is silly. You have money, you can do whatever you want. Why not do what you love? And clearly you love coffee."

Jack's lips twitch into a boyish smile. "I do love coffee."

His smile is contagious. I try to temper it by focusing on breaking off a piece of warm chocolate and cherry scone. "Then why don't you want to go to Hawaii? It's not just a shop. You want your business to be all parts of production, so why aren't you interested in getting involved?"

Jack rubs his chin. "Don't give me shit, okay?"

"I might, but that's only because you're not technically my boss." I pop the scone into my mouth. Why I feel this need to be a brat to him I do not know.

Jack narrows his eyes. " Yet ."

The word is so assertive and low in his chest I swallow my scone without tasting.

Jack takes a moment to collect his thoughts. "My mother and her family live in Hawi on the Big Island. It's only about an hour from Kona."

I keep silent. I know how complicated family can be.

"We aren't…close," Jack says. "I'm her first born, but it wasn't planned, and she wasn't with my father very long after I was born. Once she met her new husband, they had a bunch of kids and–"

He shakes his head. "Anyway, if I go down there, I'm going to feel compelled to visit even if it's not good for me."

I nod. "I understand. That must be complicated."

He shrugs. "It's…silly."

"You have to get that word out of your vocabulary, Jack."

He lets out a laugh through his nose.

"The way you feel about things isn't silly. You love coffee, you want to start a business, you do it. That's not silly. You want to see your mom but it's complicated. That's not silly either."

Jack lifts his gaze to mine.

My chest warms.

I don't know what it is, but I'm connected to him in some way. Now that he's pulled back the curtain and shown me he's a person with actual feelings, I want to see him succeed.

We'll see how long that feeling lasts.

"Well, thank you, Camilla. I don't feel what you're saying, but I hear it, and I'll try to…" He touches his chest and rubs his hand against it for a moment. "Anyway, you were right to question my judgment. If it's my company, I should be involved."

I raise an eyebrow. "So, that means you're going to go down to Hawaii?"

"I will," he says with a tentativeness in his voice. "That is if you agree to go with me. As my..."

Jack gestures with an open palm. "What would you like to be called, Camilla?"

"Assistant is fine."

"No, it's not fine. That's how our wires got crossed. What do you want? You want to be my partner? You want to be an advisor? What do you want?"

"Why are you so willing to give me what I want? You barely know me."

Jack lifts his chin and straightens up. If only he would take himself seriously, he'd know he already has everything together to be good at this. "Seth trusts you. I trust Seth. And in the time we've worked tougher, I know you know your stuff. You flourish where I fall. And I hope I can be the same for you if we continue to work together."

Can I really go from executive assistant to full on partner in the blink of an eye? Am I ready for that?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But what do I have to lose?

"Fine. Partners."

Jack smiles. "Ten ninety split? After all, I'm fronting the money."

"Eighty twenty?"

"Deal."

Damn. That was easy.

He reaches across the table. Long, elegant hand. Trimmed nails. Soft-looking palms.

I put my hand in his and regret it. It feels too good. Too right.

However, partners in business. Nothing more. And he's got more stake thanks to our verbal agreement. He still has the power and the money.

I hope I haven't just made a deal I'll regret.