Sweet Dreams (Sunset Dreams Series Book 1) (2 page)

Man, he has a beautiful body.

No wonder he was People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” last year.

Jenna, stop drooling!

He’s just as gorgeous in person as he is on screen.

I can’t believe we shared an elevator today.

I finish the movie and lie in bed wondering what he’s like and why he was in that elevator, eventually drifting off to sleep.

That night, I have a weird dream. I’m in a dark cave that sparkles with the most beautiful emeralds while little people all around me dance the merengue to “Suavemente” by Elvis Crespo. I wake up confused.

Maybe I’m supposed to be Snow White?

Who knows, my dreams are so weird.

Chapter Two

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons. T.S. Eliot

February

A
month after my star sighting, I’m at the café, busy as usual, somewhere around 9 a.m. I attend to my customers as I have for two years now, providing them with their daily dose of caffeine and freshly baked pastries.

It’s busy today. Laney has made so many lattes and cappuccinos I’m afraid we may run out of milk before our delivery comes at eleven. The croissants are all gone and all that’s left in the pastry case are muffins and cookies.

Maybe I need to tell the baker to make more croissants on the weekdays.

After a small lull, I tell Laney to take a break. Making herself a soy latte, she walks to the back of the café and sits down to read the morning paper. It should be quiet now for a while until 10 a.m. when the midmorning rush starts. Taking stock of the remaining pastries, I start to rearrange them in the pastry case as a tall man in a black leather jacket wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses walks in and straight up to the counter. Without looking up from his wallet, he orders a large coffee and a blueberry muffin to go. His voice is deep and masculine and very sexy.

I try to calculate the craziness of seeing Jacob Walker again, in my own café no less, and realizing I’m standing here like some infatuated fangirl, I shake my head to snap out of it.

Focus, Jenna.

Filling a paper cup with coffee and putting a muffin in a bag, I advise, “That will be $3.50, please.”

He looks up at me, pauses for a moment, and then hands me a $5 bill. Without waiting for his change, he grabs his coffee and the bag on the counter and turns to leave.

“Thank you, have a beautiful day today,” I call after him.

He turns back toward me slightly, giving me a half smile. Raising his cup, almost as if saying cheers, he turns and walks out the front door.

I’m dumbfounded.

What are the odds?

Is he in town for some reason?

I have no idea what Jacob Walker would be doing in that elevator with me last month or in my café today in Maple Grove.

I work the rest of the day stuck in a daze, wondering if maybe he has family here.

The next morning, he walks into the café, straight up to the counter. He takes off his sunglasses. My breath hitches for a second as I take in the most piercing green eyes I have ever seen.

What color is that?

Moss green? No, lighter.

Wow, they really sparkle.

Eventually, I greet him. “Good morning, what can I get you today?”

“Large coffee and blueberry muffin, please?”

I put together the coffee and muffin and he hands me a $5 bill. “Thank you, have a great day today.”

He tilts his head at me, a puzzled expression on his face. Putting his glasses back on, he grabs the coffee and muffin, mumbles, “You too,” and leaves.

He is so beautiful.

I can’t help daydreaming about his gorgeous eyes the rest of the day.

Forest green? No, lighter.

I wonder if he’ll be back again next week.

Sea green? No, there’s no blue in them.

The weekend is a blur as I rack my brain for an adequate description of his eye color.

It’s early Monday morning and I’m getting the café set up to open.

Mondays. I hate Mondays.

Coffee is brewing and I have gathered the trays of pastries from the kitchen that the baker left for today. The croissants are still warm and I can smell the buttery goodness that always makes my stomach growl as I slide the trays onto the racks in the pastry case.

The stereo system is on loud, as always before I open on Monday mornings, and “Harlem” by New Politics blares through the speakers. Singing along with an occasional booty shake, I stack the cups and fill up the sugar and stirrers with my back to the door. We open in fifteen minutes and I’m in a rush, but still getting my groove on, thank you very much.

As I belt out the chorus, I turn around to place the container of stirrers on the counter next to the sugar and I almost have a heart attack.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” I scream out at the top of my lungs.

Oh my God, oh my God
!

My heart pounds.

I think I just lost five pounds.

Jacob Walker stands at the counter, three feet away from me, glasses off, with a smirk on his face. He jumps slightly as I scream. Realizing who it is, wondering how the hell he got in, and seeing him start to chuckle, I hold my hand to my chest, feel the adrenaline pump through my veins and say, “You scared the bejesus out of me!”

“What?” He holds his hand to his ear and scrunches up his eyes. I realize the music is way too loud for him to hear me, which is probably why I didn’t hear him come in.

Turning around, I turn down the volume on the stereo system and then face him again. “I said, you scared the bejesus out of me!”

“Oh, sorry, the music was so loud I didn’t know how to get your attention. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a sheepish expression on his face.

My chest heaves as I respond. “It’s okay, we don’t open for another fifteen minutes though. How did you get in?”

“The door was unlocked, I just walked in,” he says like a perfectly logical explanation.

“Well coffee is almost ready, what can I get you?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

He tilts his head, studies me for a moment and says matter-of-factly, “You know, you shouldn’t leave the door unlocked like that, it’s not safe.”

Smiling, I motion to him and respond sarcastically, “Oh, why? Because some weirdo may come in and scare the stuffing out of me?” He raises his eyebrows at my response. “It’s all right, I must have left it open when I came in.”

“Well you should be more careful!” I feel like my dad is scolding me somehow.

This is weird.

“We are pretty safe here,” I say, dismissing the comment. Pouring coffee into a paper cup, I place it on the counter. “Would you like to try one of our croissants? They’re warm just out of the oven.”

“I’m usually a muffin kind of guy, but sure. That sounds great.” He smiles back at me and I get all warm inside.

Good gravy, he’s handsome.

I grab a warm butter croissant off the baker’s tray and place it in a bag. He puts a $5 bill on the counter and looks up at me.

“Well, have a beautiful day today,” I say.

He takes a sip of coffee, groans, and says, “You too,” and he’s gone again.

I don’t see him for the rest of the week and think he must have finally left town.

Laughing at myself on Friday while I daydream about Jacob Walker, I remember him startling me on Monday morning.

How embarrassing.

Chapter Three

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Franklin D. Roosevelt

T
he following Tuesday morning, I’m setting up before opening, and as I pass by the door, I see a dark figure hunched over against the glass. It’s still dark out so I can’t see who it is, but I start to freak out. I’m glad I did, in fact, lock the door behind me. He’s still there a few minutes later and as my pulse starts to accelerate I decide to turn on the sign in the hopes that maybe the light will scare off this creeper. In San Francisco I was used to this, always looking over one shoulder, always aware of my surroundings. You have to be in a big city. Here it’s much more relaxed, much safer.

Maybe that’s why this is freaking me out right now!

As the light goes on, the figure turns and faces me with his hand up in a wave. I take in a relieved breath of air at the sight of his beautiful face and walk toward the door to unlock it.

Smiling at my famous customer as he stands there blowing on his hands, I greet him. “Hey there, you scared me again. I thought you were some creep stalking me or something. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I know how that feels.” An awkward silence follows while we stand in the doorway. “Umm… my day starts pretty early and I know you’re not open for another thirty minutes or so, but I need coffee. Any chance you have some ready?”

Nodding, I say, “Sure, come on in. I already started the coffee, it’s not quite ready, but should be in a minute.”

He walks past me through the doorway and I notice how tall he is compared to me. Still not as tall as I imagined when seeing him on screen, but he definitely has a head on me. I lock the door again behind him and follow him toward the counter. His hair is a shiny jet black and not hidden today by a baseball cap. His shoulders are broad and his arms hang long next to his sides. Even through his clothes, I can tell he has the perfect amount of muscle.

“So, no music this morning?” he says with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Yeah, umm, the loud music is my Monday morning ritual. You would think by now, since I have to get up early every day, I would be used to it. Unfortunately that’s not the case. I will never be a morning person. I need special incentive to get up on Mondays. I hate Mondays.”

Jacob smiles as I fill a cup of coffee for him and hand it over the counter. “Thanks. Do you mind if I grab a stool for a moment? I don’t want to disturb you or anything, I just need a couple of sips to get me going. It’s cold today.” He wraps his hands around his cup and sips his coffee.