Just One Reason Page 22

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said looking around for an empty table, but not finding one.

  “You can sit with me if you’d like,” he said gesturing to his table. I smiled and sat down across from him. Sitting face to face with Hot Coffee Guy, whose gorgeous face could have been on a billboard in Times Square, was definitely out of my comfort zone. Well, here goes nothing.

  “I’m Taryn Ross.” I stuck out my hand and he shook it.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Taryn Ross. I’m Wyatt Hunter, but my friends call me Hunt.”

  I scrunched up my nose and said, “I think I’ll stick with Wyatt.” He laughed and took a drink of his coffee.

  “Thanks for helping me out. I’m not usually a confrontational person.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle on his knee.

  “I almost felt sorry for the guy. For a minute there I thought I might have to rescue him from you,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes, “Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s got plenty of girls lined up to keep him company. For some reason he keeps coming after me.”

  Wyatt raised his eyebrows, “For some reason? I’d question his sanity or his sexual orientation if he wasn’t after you.” I brushed a hand over my long light brown hair that was currently pulled back in a low messy ponytail. I usually didn’t wear much makeup and today was no exception. I glanced down at my outfit – gray NYU t-shirt, faded skinny jeans and my navy blue rain boots with yellow ducks on them. Nothing too special about me today.

  Wyatt followed my eyes down, “Nice boots.” I laughed and stuck out a foot. “Don’t let me keep you from studying or whatever it is you normally do,” he said as he picked up the paper he had been reading, but his eyes stayed on mine.

  “Oh, right,” I said looking away. I had forgotten for a moment that he offered me a seat because there were no other open tables. I reached into my bag and hesitated. I was at a very emotional point in the book I was reading and I really didn’t want to start crying in front of him. That’s if I was even able to concentrate with him sitting two feet away from me.

  He noticed my hesitation and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  I smiled and pulled out my book. My dad always told me that honesty is the best policy. “Well…I would normally be reading this smutty romance novel right now, but it’s at a really emotional part and I think it would be weird and uncomfortable if I started crying when you were so nice to share your table.”

  I peeked up at him from under my lashes to see if he thought I was totally insane, but instead he had a smirk on his face.

  He gestured toward my book, “Smutty, huh?”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed, “You’re such a guy. Of course you would zero in on that word.” I stuffed the book back into my bag and pulled out a notebook.

  “I guess I’ll study since I have finals coming up in a few weeks,” I sighed. His eyebrows pulled in as he watched me put my book away.

  “What?” I asked thinking maybe I had coffee dripping off my chin or something equally embarrassing stuck on my face.

  “You cry over a book?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, yeah. I think books get me even more than movies, because you can really get inside the characters head and feel what they feel…” I trailed off, not wanting to babble.

  “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully and went back to reading his paper.

  I was trying to concentrate on my studying, I really was. But Wyatt had finished his coffee and popped a piece of gum into his mouth. Never before had I found gum-chewing to be so sexy. The way his strong jaw was clenching as he chewed, and he occasionally licked his bottom lip. I couldn’t help myself from glancing at him from the corner of my eye, and I think I’d read the same page of notes fifteen times, not able to focus on the words. A little while later I glanced at my phone and saw it was time for me to go. I stood up and started gathering my things.

  “I have to get to my next class.”

  Wyatt stood up with me and took my empty cup and his to the trash. He held out his hand to me and said, “It was a pleasure sharing a table with you, Taryn Ross.” I shook his hand, noticing how warm and strong it felt, and he held on a moment longer than necessary, squeezing my hand gently before releasing it.

  “Goodbye, Wyatt Hunter.”

  After my last class of the day I hurried to the street and hailed a cab to take me to my weekly session with my therapist, Dr. Flannigan. Once there I slipped off my duck boots and curled my feet under me on the couch. Dr. Flannigan leaned back and laced his fingers together over his rather large stomach.

  “So, Taryn, it’s been two weeks since you ended your relationship with Ryan. Are you still happy with that decision?”

  I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, and I thought about that for a minute before answering, “Well, I guess I feel good about it. If anything I feel relieved that it’s over. If that makes any sense.”

  Dr. Flannigan pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded – he did that a lot. “I think that makes perfect sense, Taryn. From what you told me about your relationship, you were never able to open up to Ryan about your past and how it has shaped you into the person you are today.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but he held up a hand to stop me. “I know you don’t think your childhood has any bearing on your life today, but it does. The issues you have with intimacy and trust stem from being abandoned as a child.” Based on my years of therapy and my current course of study in psychology, I knew he was right, but I really hated dwelling on the past. Besides, my main motivation for breaking up with Ryan was because of a lack of passion. Granted I had never actually felt this passion I had only read about, but I believed deep down that it existed and that I would know when I found it.

  “So where do I go from here?”

  Dr. Flannigan rubbed his chin. “I think you’ve made tremendous progress by ending your relationship with Ryan. You were not getting what you needed from the relationship and you took the initiative to fix that. The next step would be finding someone you do feel comfortable confiding in.”

  I opened my mouth, but again, he held up his hand to silence me. After weekly sessions for twelve years, Dr. Flannigan knew me really well. “Someone outside your family, Taryn. I’m not saying you need to force anything, but if you do feel a connection with someone, be open to exploring it on a deeper level.” My thoughts immediately flew to my coffee companion from earlier, and I bit my lip as I imagined exploring him on a deeper level.

  When I got back to the apartment I shared with Lindsay later that evening after a stop by the library, I was disappointed to find the apartment empty. Thanks to our parents, we had a much nicer apartment than any college student deserved. It had two bedrooms and two bathrooms and a decent size open concept living/dining/kitchen area.

  My dad spent a lot of time in Washington DC, so my mom had stayed home with me here in the city during my first two years of college. My parents finally let me move out at the beginning of this school year, and my mom went overboard on decorating. It was very shabby chic with light colors and cottage decor even though we were in a high rise in the middle of the city. But Lindsay and I loved it.

  I couldn’t wait to update her on my pseudo coffee date with Hot Coffee Guy, I mean Wyatt. If I ever talked to him again I would have to be careful not to call him that. Dinner consisted of macaroni and cheese out of a box that I inhaled while watching The Bachelor. I never missed an episode, and despite the show’s poor track record of happily ever afters, I remained hopeful season after season.

  Lindsay had texted me that she wouldn’t be home until late, so I didn’t bother waiting up and went to bed when the show was over. She didn’t say where she was, and I hoped it wasn’t with Evan Edmunds. Make that Professor Edmunds, her very married business law professor who had been showing a very unprofessional interest in Lindsay. I was thinking of Lindsay and her mess of a love life when I fell asleep, but it was Wyatt who inhabited my dreams.
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  Chapter Two

  Coffee Talk

  I took a little extra time getting ready the next morning, and since it was a warm sunny day I chose a denim mini-skirt, pink v-neck shirt and flip flops. I even took time to curl my hair and put on mascara and lip gloss while I listened to Miranda Lambert, my happy music. Lindsay always teased me about my love of country music saying I must have been born in the South.

  In fact, I didn’t know where I had been born. My mom and dad, Rebecca and James Ross, had adopted me when I was nine years old. I thanked God every day that they had found me, because they gave me love that I had never known before. I don’t like to think about what my life would be like without them or what it was like before they found me. Lindsay knocked on my door, pulling me out of my thoughts, and we walked to campus together.

  “You look cute today,” Lindsay said.

  It was rare for me to wear makeup and curl my hair just to go to class. I shrugged, “Thanks.”

  She nudged me with her shoulder, “So, who’s the guy?” The girl didn’t miss a thing. I smiled as I pictured Wyatt with his thick dark hair and even darker eyes.

  “Well, you remember Hot Coffee Guy that I’m always drooling over at Starbucks?”

  Lindsay actually clapped her hands and jumped up and down, her blonde ponytail bouncing around her shoulders, “You finally talked to him?” I filled her in on my encounter with Ryan and my subsequent conversation with Wyatt.

  “He was probably just being nice. I mean, I’m sure he would have done that for any girl.”

  Lindsay shook her head, “Maybe. But he didn’t have to share his table with you. Do you think he’ll be there today?”

  “I think so. I mean he’s been there every day for the last two weeks.”

  Lindsay gave me a quick hug, since we had reached the point where we parted ways, and said, “Well, you’ll know today if he’s interested. If he just smiles politely, then move on. But, if he goes out of his way to talk to you, then you’ll know he’s into you.”

  I walked the rest of the way to my class lost in thought. For all the romance books I read, I had yet to experience any real romance in my own life. And never had I obsessed over a guy as much as I had obsessed over Wyatt in the last twenty four hours.

  After my second class I walked quickly to Starbucks with butterflies in my stomach. He had been there every day for two weeks, so I was fully expecting him to be at his usual table, and I was uncertain how I should act. Should I say “hi” or just ignore him? Maybe he wouldn’t even remember me. I reached the front door and took a deep breath before stepping inside.

  He was there at his table, looking like he just came from working out in gym shorts, a snug t-shirt, sneakers and a gray baseball cap covering his dark hair, and he must have been watching the door, because his eyes met mine instantly when I walked in. A slow sexy smile spread across his face and he held up an extra cup of coffee. I was totally surprised and it must have showed on my face, because he chuckled lightly as I walked over and sat down.

  “I got you an iced vanilla latte. It looked like what you were drinking yesterday.”

  I took a quick sip, “Thanks, it’s perfect… How did you know I would be here?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Well, you come in here every day at the same time and order the same drink. I hope it’s all right. I really enjoyed talking to you yesterday.” He actually looked a little nervous; like he was afraid I might get up and walk away. It was very endearing on someone who normally looked so confident and even a little rough around the edges. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning like a fool. For the first time ever in my life, I was actually excited to talk to someone, and I thought about Dr. Flannigan. He said if I felt a connection with someone, I should be open to exploring it, and I was certainly feeling a connection with Wyatt.

  “Well, I have 40 minutes before I have to leave for my next class, and I do owe you for saving me from Ryan yesterday. What do you want to know?”

  He smiled widely, turned his baseball cap around backwards, and rested his forearms on the table. “How about the basics – you know, major, career aspirations, hobbies.”

  I leaned forward too, encouraged by his enthusiasm, and proceeded to tell him that I was majoring in psychology with plans to get my PhD eventually, running and yoga were my main forms of exercise, I lived with my cousin Lindsay who was the same age as me, twenty one, and my guilty pleasures were romance novels and country music. He asked questions every now and then, but I was doing most of the talking.

  When I realized he knew more about me than most of my friends, and I only knew his name, I said, “Okay, now your turn. It’s almost time for me to go, so give me your life story in three minutes or less.”

  He laughed and gave me his basics – he is 28 (older than I thought and quite a bit older than me), he’s originally from upstate New York, he was in the military and now works in private security.

  At that I had to interrupt and ask if he had ever worked for a celebrity. He smiled but shook his head, “Nope, nothing that exciting. You’d better go or you’re going to be late.” We said our goodbyes and as I walked out I really hoped he would be there again tomorrow.

  He was there the next day and the next and every day for two weeks, always waiting for me with my iced vanilla latte. We talked about everything – favorite foods, movies, politics, anything and everything that wasn’t too personal. Out of habit I skirted around anything that could move in that direction. He seemed to do the same, and I got the impression that he was just as private as I was.

  Even though we never went too deep I felt a connection with him that I had never felt with anyone else. I don’t know why I instinctively trusted him, but I did. He was still the hottest guy I had ever seen in real life, and my heart raced every day when I walked into Starbucks and saw him waiting for me, but at the same time I felt incredibly comfortable with him. As if I had known him forever.

  And his voice. Oh, his voice. It was deep and low and a little raspy, and I could imagine that he never needed to raise his voice when he was angry to get his point across. Remembering his low deep warning to Ryan that first day sent shivers down my spine.

  “Taryn?” He waved his hand in front of my face, and I snapped out of my daze.

  “Sorry, what?”

  He chuckled. “I asked where you like to go running.”

  “Oh, yeah. Um, I usually go through the park. I try to get in 3 or 4 miles a few times a week.”

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and asked, “If you’re running this weekend, would you like some company?”

  Um, let me think…YES! It was Friday afternoon, and I had been a little disappointed that I wouldn’t see him again until Monday. Inside I was doing a happy dance, but I didn’t want to appear desperate.

  So, I shrugged casually and twirled a lock of hair around my finger, “Sure. That would be great.”

  He smiled and looked relieved. “I can meet you at your place whenever you want to go.”

  I mentally ran through what I needed to get done tomorrow, namely sleeping in and working on a paper that was due next week. “How about later in the afternoon? Maybe 4:00?”

  “Perfect,” he replied. I reached in my bag to find a pen and wrote my name and address on a napkin.

  He chuckled when I pushed it across the table to him. “You didn’t need to put your name, Taryn. I promise yours is the only address I am collecting today.” Well, that’s good to know.

  I started twirling my hair around my finger again, a nervous habit, and attempted to the change the subject. “So, how does your job work? Are you working right now?” I asked. His face remained expressionless, but something like panic flashed quickly across his eyes. So quickly that I thought I might have imagined it before his cool calm gaze shuttered back into place. He leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck, his nervous habit I had learned.

  “No, I’m in between assignments right now. We get chunks of time off to ba
lance when we are on the job twenty four hours a day.” He pulled out his phone to check the time and stuffed the napkin with my address in his pocket. “It’s time for you to get going.” Hmmm, was he trying to get rid of me?

  I stood up and draped my bag over my shoulder while he threw away our coffee cups. He usually sat back down and kept reading the paper when I left for class, but today he came to stand next to me and placed his hand on my lower back.

  “Can I walk you to class? I’m heading out now anyway.”

  We hadn’t touched since that first day when he touched my arm to steady me, and now I was hyper aware of his hand on my back. It was like his touch was searing through my thin cotton shirt and I could only nod in agreement. His hand stayed where it was until we were outside, and he let it drop back to his side. Where my skin was on fire only a moment ago, it was now ice cold without his touch. In that instant I knew what I was looking for did actually exist, and I had just felt it.

  My class was in a building not far away, so it only took a few minutes for us to walk in silence. When we reached the steps of the building, I stepped up on the first step and turned to face Wyatt. We were now eye to eye, and he reached out to brush a lock of stray hair off my forehead. He gazed at me a moment and I could see the indecision in his eyes. Kiss me. Kiss me. I tried to send him mental messages, willing him to make a move that would take our relationship beyond coffee and friendship.

  He took a deep breath and leaned in to murmur in my ear, “See you tomorrow, Taryn.” His breath rustled my hair and tickled my ear, and my eyes fluttered shut. When I opened them he was already walking away. I muttered to myself as I walked up the rest of the steps. Get a grip, Taryn.

  At the doorway I looked back over my shoulder. I couldn’t help another glance at Wyatt walking away – he was usually sitting down when we were together, so this was a treat to be able to admire the way his faded jeans hung low on his hips and his black shirt stretched over the muscles in his back.