Worth a Chance, page 3
“Cameron. But she goes by Cammie.” He nodded toward the mound where she stood. One of the coaches was demonstrating how to grip the ball.
“She’s yours.” I was repeating myself because I was so shocked that Ben had a daughter. I couldn’t reconcile it with what I knew about him. We were both voted most likely to succeed. He had dreams of moving to a big city and becoming a CEO. Kids didn’t seem to fit with the picture I had of him in my head. I’d imagined him in some corporate office, kicking ass, not taking his daughter to practice.
He tipped his head to the side, considering me. “Why is that surprising?”
“I didn’t know you’d married.” Our mothers were friends when we were kids, but they weren’t close anymore.
“I didn’t.” His jaw tightened. “I moved here to be close to my parents. I need the help, and I hope living in a small town will be good for her.”
Something tightened inside me. “It was for us.”
I loved growing up in a small town and living close to my family. I couldn’t imagine not being able to help my sister out or attend most of my nephew’s games.
Ben shifted his weight, and I racked my brain for something to get him to stay. I was getting a glimpse into his life over the past ten years, and I wanted more. “You were living in Philadelphia before?”
That night at the garage, I remembered he’d told Jake he’d driven from Philadelphia.
He nodded. “That’s right.”
I wanted to ask where Cammie’s mother was, but it wasn’t my place, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Even if Ben was single, our shops were in direct competition with each other. Nothing could happen between us. There was too much history there.
Ben tipped his head toward the field in a confident move that had my tummy dipping. “Which one is your nephew?”
“Hunter, the one in the Orioles uniform. He takes baseball pretty seriously,” I said jokingly.
Instead of smiling, he sighed. “Cammy does, too. She insisted on playing baseball with the boys. She couldn’t understand why girls would play a different sport. You should have heard her. ‘Why do girls play with a bigger ball?’ ‘Why is it called softball when the ball isn’t soft?’ ‘Why can’t girls play with the boys?’ And on and on. I had to google the history of softball, and now I know more than I ever wanted to know.”
I smiled at how he pitched his voice higher to sound like his daughter asking questions. “I don’t see too many girls playing at this age. She’s brave.”
He nodded. “She’s fearless.”
I heard the affection in his voice. The love for his daughter. It did something to me, but I wasn’t prepared to feel anything for him other than physical attraction. In high school, I disregarded it because he was my competition. A guy who pushed all your buttons shouldn’t be someone you were attracted to.
I wondered what he’d be like in a relationship. A flash popped into my head of him hovering over me in bed with that familiar glint in his eyes, the one that challenged me. He’d probably want to prove how good he was in bed. My core tightened at the thought.
“I didn’t think to bring a chair. I came straight from work,” he said as if he was worried I’d judge him.
Normally, I would’ve said something about his more formal attire at a kids’ baseball practice, but Ben having a daughter changed everything. I’d always seen him as a hard guy, driven and impenetrable, but he’d revealed something personal. He’d been vulnerable with me. It was unexpected, and I was still trying to wrap my mind around it.
He stood next to me as we watched Cammie throw a few pitches. Each time, the coach took the time to tweak her form.
“She’ll be okay.” And you will be, too. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to soothe him when I never had before.
“I hope so. Hopefully, it’s not too late to put her in softball if she changes her mind.”
I laughed as Hunter ran up to me and breathlessly asked, “Coach said I need a cup.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I reached around for the water bottle I’d brought for him.
“Nooo,” Hunter said, drawing out the word. “If I want to play catcher, I need a cup.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, still not grasping what he was trying to tell me.
Ben crouched down to Hunter’s level and lowered his voice, “Boys wear cups to protect themselves while they’re playing. It could really hurt if you get hit.”
My face heated. Why hadn’t I thought of that? But I never had a brother, and I’d never dated a jock.
“I bet your dad could help you with that,” Ben told Hunter.
“Oh, he doesn’t—” What could I say in front of Hunter that didn’t put down his father but let him know he wasn’t in the picture?
“I’ll tell my mom,” Hunter said before racing off to the field, seemingly undisturbed by the mention of his absentee father.
“His father doesn’t come around much.” He certainly wasn’t involved in Hunter’s day-to-day needs. That was all Abby.
Ben grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”
An awkward silence fell between us, mainly because my mind was still trying to catch up to the new and improved Ben. The one who had responsibilities and vulnerabilities. The one with a daughter. The one who’d just saved me from an uncomfortable conversation with my nephew.
“I’m going to take a seat.” He gestured to the small metal bleachers behind the backstop.
“I’ll see you around,” I mumbled. I would be seeing him around town and at my nephew’s baseball practices and games. I should have been irritated, so why did my skin tingle the entire time he stood next to me? Why did I care so much that he was a good dad?
None of it should have mattered because Ben was the same person at his core. Wasn’t he? No matter how much of a family man he had become, we had nothing in common. Except a love for kids, and that wasn’t enough to erase our history.
I’d seen his façade drop because he was around his daughter, but if I ran into him around town, he’d be back to his usual competitive self. He couldn’t help it.
The thought made me a little sad because I liked the guy I saw at practice. If he were any other single dad, I might have tried to get to know him better. But I could never go there with Ben.
At the end of practice, I folded my chair and slung it over my shoulder. I couldn’t help but overhear Cammie when she said, “Daddy, Daddy, I told you they’d let me pitch.”
“You did such a good job,” Ben said, taking her bag from her.
“Did you see that ball I hit? And how I slid into first base?” she asked.
“You’re supposed to run through first base, though,” Ben said gently, taking her offered hand.
I smiled, having learned a little about baseball last year, and my heart skipped a beat at them holding hands. They were sweet together.
Cammie’s nose scrunched. “That’s what the coach said.”
“You should listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about,” Ben continued as they passed me.
Hunter approached, asking me something.
I forced my gaze from Ben and Cammie to Hunter. “I’m sorry. What did you ask?”
“Can we get pizza?” he repeated with an eye roll.
I probably deserved that for not paying attention to him.
“Sure, let me text your mom and let her know.” I wanted to ease Abby’s burden, so whatever I could do to make evenings go smoother, I did. I didn’t have anyone to go home to, which had never bothered me until then. Seeing Ben with his daughter made my heart ache for that connection to a partner. As nice as it was helping Hunter and Abby, I wanted that unconditional love for myself.
I wasn’t naïve. My ex had no problem walking away from me and our sham of a marriage. And Abby’s ex-husband wanted nothing to do with her or Hunter, despite trying so hard to have him. Being in love didn’t mean the person would stick around. But underneath, I still hoped for the impossible—someone to love me.
Chapter Four
BEN
After running into Brooke at Cammie’s first practice, I was more determined than ever to visit her coffee shop. I just hoped she wasn’t working. Her business had been open for long enough that she’d have staff handling the front counter. Hopefully, she’d either be in the back, running numbers, or at home, enjoying a day off.
The Brooke I used to know probably worked seven days a week, though, and had a hand in every aspect of her business. So there was the possibility I’d see her.
After my morning run, where I hoped to burn off any warm and fuzzy feelings about this adult version of Brooke, I ate breakfast with my daughter and saw her off for the day. She was cautiously optimistic about her new school. I loved spending mornings with her. She was sweet and happy, but the teen years were just around the corner, so I soaked up every minute with her.
I was cognizant that this was time her mother didn’t get. I staved off the feelings of melancholy as I pulled open the heavy glass door to Java Coffee.
It was in a good location, drawing tourists from the harbor. My business was farther north, catching the people on State Circle and St. John’s College.
I wasn’t sure what I hoped to learn other than what made her business successful so that I could compete.
The bell over the door rang, signaling my arrival. It was a little late for the morning rush, so only a few people stood at the counter. Brooke was at the counter taking orders, her blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail; her lips were pink and inviting. Unlike her barista, who wore a black shirt and blue apron, Brooke wore a white blouse and black dress pants. I didn’t have to look at her feet to know she was wearing heels. She’d want to look professional despite any discomfort. We were similar like that.
I wore business attire, though Christopher assured me no one expected the owner of a coffee shop to wear a suit. I wanted to look the part of a successful business owner, even if I wasn’t one yet.
I took the time to observe Brooke in her element as I pursued the shelves of books for sale. She even had games available for patrons to play.
Brooke was quick with a smile, and I noticed she had a personal anecdote for each customer. How’s your granddaughter? Did you check out the new flower shop on Main? She took the time to get to know her customers. She probably didn’t spend much time in the office when the shop was open.
I’d wanted to taste test her coffee, but not with her at the counter. I also didn’t want to alert her to my presence. Instead, I picked up a book and mindlessly thumbed through it. Could I leave without her noticing me?
Before I could come up with a viable solution, a familiar voice asked, “Can I help you?”
I shelved the book, not even looking where I stashed it, as I turned to face her.
Her expression was amused and maybe a tiny bit gleeful.
It reminded me so much of our high school interactions that my heart stuttered, and I muttered, “I’m fine.”
“Would you like to try the coffee?”
My words got caught in my throat because she was beautiful up close. At the baseball field, I’d carefully kept my gaze adverted.
“Isn’t that what you’re here to do? Scope out the competition?” She smiled wider at my discomfort, clearly enjoying herself.
I rolled my shoulders back and straightened to my full height. “It’s what any good business owner would do.”
“I expected nothing less.” A teasing smile played on her lips.
Was she expecting me? Had she been hoping I’d show up? I had to remember she was my competition, not a potential love interest. I’d shot that idea down a long time ago. There was no way Brooke Langley would ever go for me. We were too similar. And I couldn’t forget I never measured up.
I suddenly realized we were very much alone, tucked between two stacks of shelves hidden from the front counter and seating area.
My jaw tightened. “I need my business to be successful.”
“Don’t we all,” she said dryly.
I fell back on my old standby, a well-placed challenge. She always reacted beautifully to those. “You should have known this would happen. You weren’t going to be the only coffee shop forever.”
Her cheeks turned pink as her eyes flashed with irritation. “And yet it had to be you.”
“I saw an opportunity, and I took it.” It was the truth, and I’d felt good about it until I stood before her.
She nodded, not confirming or denying my assertion. That burned in my gut. I wanted her to challenge me, to fight back. I needed her to be that feisty girl from high school. The one who taunted and teased me. The only thing was—it got my blood pumping for a different reason now.
“The offer for a coffee still stands.” She turned as if she were going to walk away.
I studied her expression, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Coming away stumped, I said, “I’ll take it.”
I’d prolong my time with her to figure out what she was thinking and what her plan was. Surely, she had one.
I followed her through the maze of bookshelves to the counter. Her round ass was perfectly encased in her black slacks. Her scent—maybe honeysuckle—reminded me of running through neighborhood backyards to sneak up on her lemonade stand. Everything about her pulled me in.
I shook off the feelings of desire as she rounded the counter. My visit was about assessing the competition, not sleeping with the owner.
I watched as she made my drink, grabbing the to-go cup and pouring from the bold brew. She knew exactly what I liked. Was it because of our history, or was she good at assessing her customer? If so, she had a skill I hadn’t acquired yet.
She got to know her customers and anticipated their wants and desires. Could I do the same? Or was that her strength?
She carefully placed the lid on the cup, checking to make sure it was sealed before setting it on the counter in front of me. I pulled out my wallet, but she covered my hand with hers.
I stilled with her smaller hand covering mine, the warmth sliding up my arm to my elbow. Her eyes widened at the contact before she quickly pulled back. “Your money’s no good here.”
“You won’t survive giving away your coffee for free.” The statement was harsher than I intended.
“It’s a coffee for an old friend.” Her voice was soft. Sweeter than I deserved.
Was that a flash of disappointment in her eyes? Was she hoping for a different guy, the one she saw on the baseball field when I was in my role as Dad? “Is that what we were—what we are?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Honestly?”
I nodded as she searched my face for something.
“I have no idea.”
“Fair enough.” I swallowed thickly. I wasn’t sure why I felt so out of sorts. I’d come to check out her store and taste her coffee. Nothing else. So, why did I feel like I’d failed some kind of test?
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” she said before moving down the counter to greet the next customer.
My interactions with Brooke were rocking my control. I needed to avoid her. I needed to focus on my business, my product, my customers, and my plan for opening day, not the owner of the competition. It didn’t matter how gorgeous she was or whether she had similar goals in life. There was no emotion in business. It was all spreadsheets and numbers. Black and white.
Being attracted to my competition would only hurt me.
“You get any inspiration at Java Coffee?” Christopher asked when I returned.
“I have a better feel for her business model.” She was a natural with people. I couldn’t say the same.
Christopher tipped his head to the side. “Any way we can leverage it to our advantage?”
“I’m still thinking.” Visiting her store gave me a look at Brooke and how she ran her business. Not so much how to take her customers. I felt a twinge of guilt as I remembered how she’d taken her nephew to baseball practice and how sweet she was with her customers. She was a nice person. She didn’t deserve what I would plan.
Christopher resumed wiping down the tables in the seating area. “I think we should hold a grand opening party.”
I leaned against the counter, crossing my legs at my ankles, watching him move around the room. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”
Christopher straightened. “There’s an event planning business in town—Happily Ever Afters.”
“That doesn’t sound like what I need.” It sounded more like a company that planned weddings.
“They plan all kinds of events. They just did the grand opening for Harbor Garage, and it was a success. Brought more awareness to the new business. The paper even ran a feature on it in the lifestyle section.
“I’ll think about it.” There was no question I needed to capitalize on the newness. Customers would come because they were curious. The challenge would be to keep them coming back.
Christopher met my gaze. “I’ve heard Brooke’s selling books now—local history and folklore, even guidebooks. It’s perfect for tourists and locals.”
“Hmm,” I hadn’t actually looked at the title of the book I picked up. My brain was too full of Brooke. For the first time, I’d let a woman distract me from my goal. I’d be an idiot to let it happen again.
“The website offers opportunities for groups wanting to be involved in book trivia and story times.” There was no question Brooke was trying hard to increase business. It was probably her way of countering my opening.
“But you’ll bring them in with your coffee beans,” Christopher said, gesturing at the large glass jars on the shelves. Each one was labeled with the origin and unique flavors. The seating area contained a historic coffee grinder. An antique my grandfather had collected at some point. It was the one thing that had given me the idea for the coffee shop.
“We’re part museum, part coffee shop. We can’t exactly form coffee interest groups.” But how else could I draw in customers?
Christopher nodded. “You’ll have good Wi-Fi, which will encourage people to work with their laptops.”
