Honey hadn’t opened the shop for a few months. The morning crowds hung out less, looked at the art less, but they purchased the extra mugs and souvenirs more. The daytime crowds were more conservative and did not draw her into their philosophical discussions on the hidden meanings of life or the latest rock band, so there were longer periods of downtime where all she did was lean on the counter and try to not think about missing Morgan. On the days she worked with Joyce, the shop was a disco. Joyce always played her latest Turkish or Lebanese pop music.

Today the guitar thrummed heavy metal pulses to some Middle Eastern beat. Honey watched Joyce undulate her arms and roll her wrists to the music. Joyce danced constantly. If it had a beat, she danced. She managed to belly dance to everything. Sometimes she would throw in some hip-hop moves. Honey was pretty sure Joyce was not even aware she did it.

“Joyce! Turn the music down. We have incoming” Honey called as she mentally prepared for the onslaught of customers that would descend on The Corner once they exited the large group bus that had pulled up. The bus’ air brakes emitted the telltale burst and hiss that confirmed they were stopping.

About twenty tourists filed in, chatting eagerly about something. Joyce and Honey mixed, blended, and poured. They plated cakes, cookies, and pastries.

They cleaned up spills and wiped down tables. The wave of consumers washed over them and left the shop empty in a mere thirty minutes. The burst of activity quickly slipped into an adrenaline slump.

“Goodie, dishes,” Joyce clapped in mock excitement. “But first we dance!” She turned up the music and grabbed Honey. They spun and jumped around the tables. Honey did her best to copy Joyce’s hip lifts and shimmies. Both women were smiling and giggling, enjoying themselves when a sharp commanding voice broke their reverie.

“I see you have reverted in basic public behavior, Rachelle.”

The women stopped dancing.

“Oh, you,” said Honey, as she swiped back her hair with one hand. She placed the other on her hip. Joyce skulked back to the office and turned down the music, picked up a stack of dishes, and headed for the kitchen.

“What do you want?” Honey’s curt tone masked the panic bunching in her abdomen. The fingers at her hip dug in until she felt her fingernails bite into her skin.

“A warmer welcome, perhaps.”

“Welcome to The Corner. How can I help you today, sir?” Honey said with the enthusiasm of an automaton. Her smile bit back the bile rising in her throat. She would not let Bryce see he still affected her. She controlled her emotions and if she could pretend indifference, eventually, she would be indifferent. Lana had coached her in the ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ philosophy. I can do this. Her fingers found her charm. Forza. She could do this.

“Uh, you still wear that cheap piece of jewelry.” He shook his head in distaste. “I should report you to your boss, Rachelle. You should know better than to show your insolence to me, a paying customer. I really shouldn’t be surprised you are behaving this way. In public. Your professionalism was always questionable.”

“Bryce, until you place an order, you are not a paying customer. Now, what do you want?” Honey kept her tone even and sharp. She focused on not letting Bryce get to her. Today she would not let that old pang of guilt seep in. Her contempt for him was actual and not faked. She would not acknowledge her fear.

“Do you remember my usual Saturday morning drink? I’ll have that.”

“Yeah, okay, Bryce, I told you last time. This isn’t your usual coffee shop. That drink the granda-la-la-frapa-beano whipped chocolate milkshake thing isn’t made here.” She said tapping the counter with her index finger. “It’s one of those specialty copyrighted type drinks.” She pointed at the blackboard menu behind and above her, then turned back to face him. “That’s our menu. What do you want?”

She hadn’t realized his nose was so narrow. Before she had thought it appeared regal. Now she thought it just looked pointy. His eyes were smaller than she remembered and a harsh cold blue. Not warm and welcoming like Morgan’s. Bryce’s skin looked thin and delicate, not strong and manly, at all. His tan was too even, Morgan’s tan had that naturally-achieved-from-outside-work coloring. Bryce’s tan looked fake-and-bake. Was he using spray on tanning? Or, no, a tanning bed? This is California. What does he need a tanning bed for? Oh yeah, no tan lines. And, she realized, he groomed his eyebrows. They were waxed. She would have to see if Morgan did his eyebrows since he did have two distinct brows, not one. Why hadn’t she noticed Bryce was disposed towards a unibrow before? She must have been blinded by the love she felt for him at the time. Her mental eyes rested on the image of Morgan’s smiling face, superimposed over the reality of Bryce’s face.

She registered his order and rang him through the register while not actually paying attention to him. Lana said that was a good quality for working here. Honey had never been able to master it. She always felt guilty for not giving the customer her full attention.

Honey turned and assembled Bryce’s selection. Of course, he’d selected the frothiest drink they sold. Bryce was such a boy when compared to Morgan. Morgan seemed more like what a man should be. Rough, yet educated. Tough, but ready to smile and laugh. When she had been with Bryce, she thought he had been a skilled lover, but when she thought of how Morgan’s hands looked, how they had felt massaging her shoulders, large and strong and warm, she wondered how much better of a lover he must be. She closed her eyes against the stinging that indicated tears were forming.

She paused before turning back to face Bryce. She handed him the drink.

Bryce put his hand over hers. Honey stared wide-eyed at his hand caressing her fingers. He was going to make her spill again.

Red wine sloshed over the edge of the glass, running over their fingers like thin blood. Honey, tipsy, giggled.

Bryce said nothing, just tossed a cloth napkin at her and stood. “We’re leaving. Now.” He growled the word now. Making it clear to Honey there was no arguing. She forlornly looked at her half-eaten dinner and wondered what she had done this time.

Honey snatched her hand away from his touch. Away from the bad memories.

“We should go out sometimes,” he said. “Talk.”

“No,” Honey bit the reply out. What had given him the idea that she would want to talk with him? That she would ever welcome his touch again? Maybe Bryce had seen her fighting some emotion. He must have assumed it was over him.

He shot her a glare she used to consider dangerous and maybe a little bit sexy. Now she realized, it was malicious and violent. Honey focused on her breathing.

It was just a look. He’s not going to do anything to you in public.

“I’ve got a project just off the Row. I’ll be in town more.”

Honey rolled her eyes. He had said that last time.

“Probably even more than I anticipate, since the site manager seems to have disappeared. I’ll have to be the client’s man on the scene, as it were,” Bryce sneered.

Did Honey note a hint of satisfaction when he said the site manager was missing? Oh God. Bile rose in her throat. Her ears rang. Was he talking about Morgan? Had something happened to him? Honey blinked rapidly, dragging her focus back to Bryce. “What?”

“I said goodbye, Rachelle.” He called out as he left the shop raising his cup in a pseudo salute.

“Damn it.” She slammed her fist onto the counter and started crying. Why couldn’t Bryce leave her alone?

She missed Morgan. She missed the security he offered. She was mad at herself for having created more of a relationship with him in her mind than what they really had. It made the hurt more hollow. It was just a stupid crush she was having a hard time getting over.

* * *

The next day Honey didn’t have time to daydream about Morgan. She was too busy to do anything except, take orders, fill orders, and clean up in the lull between orders. She laughed off Lana’s offer to get a restraining order to keep Bryce away from the shop. Honey felt as if she had actually overcome her fear of him during the previous day’s encounter. Two years of being afraid of Bryce was now over. She had not been reduced to a pile of human jelly after keeping her cool with him. Her breakdown after Bryce left had not been caused by him but by her fear for Morgan. Honey felt exuberant over her control where Bryce was concerned. She felt completely miserable when it came to Morgan.

She counted the number of days since he’d disappeared. Sixteen days. Sixteen days of listening to his voice mail saying he wanted a second chance, and at least nine days of not being able to get a message back to him before she gave up. She had spent the first few days after their date when Morgan failed to return to the coffee shop walking past the site on Wave in hopes of seeing him. After a few days, she stopped walking past the construction site. She figured she had been obvious enough. She’d stopped and watched the workers for minutes at a time. If Morgan was there, he would have seen her. No one looked like Morgan. But no one bothered her or asked what she was doing there. When Seth told her she needed to go home, she felt like she had been going nonstop for hours.

She waved her keys at Seth as she walked out the side door onto the loading porch. She stepped over and around the wooden palette the morning’s paper cups delivery came in on. She sidestepped the coffee grounds recycling bin and nearly tripped over Big Dog’s chew toy. She slogged the few blocks up the hill to where she’d parked her car. An instinctive feeling of danger washed over Honey. She glanced over her shoulder and thought she caught a glimpse of a shadow following her. She shook her head. She was tired and paranoid There wasn’t anyone there.

She got in her car and began to drive. A short time later she looked up and realized she had driven home. She just didn’t remember doing it.

She jumped nervously when a shadowed figure approached her. She expected to giggle for not recognizing her neighbor.

Honey’s breath caught in her throat. “Bryce. What are you doing here?” She panicked. How had he found her? Where could she go? She put her fist to her neck and grasped her talisman. Forza. Strength.

“So this is where you live? Rather seedy compared to what you walked away from.” Bryce ignored her as he always had. He stepped closer.

“What the hell? Get away from me.”

Honey retreated, stumbling as she missed a step. Bryce grabbed her arm. He held on too long and too hard for the move to be considered a gallant move to save her from a tumble. His fingers bit into her skin. She could feel bruises forming.

“Let go of me.” She tried to wrench herself out of his grip, but he was stronger.

“You are still beautiful. You should come back to me. I think this time you’ll know how to behave. I am in a position of real power now. Real wealth. People do what I say and what I want. I’m the one with control now. I need a woman who looks like you at my side. You should appreciate that I still want you.”

“Controlling people through coercion is not power; it’s bullying. I said let go,” she growled the last words as she stomped on Bryce’s foot and twisted.

He stepped back letting go of her arm with a toss, as if to throw her away from him

“Seriously, Rachelle, you are pitiful.”

Cooly, as if nothing had happened, Bryce walked away.

Honey stood frozen, watching him until his car drove away.

Numb, she put her key into her front door.

Automatically, she fed Calliope, a small tortoiseshell calico with a white spot on her nose, who eyed her suspiciously. Then Honey collapsed in the middle of her kitchen floor sobbing. She crawled up from the floor sniffing back tears. She needed to do something normal, something that Bryce couldn’t ruin. She made a large bowl of cheap salty ramen. Comfort food. It helped that she knew Bryce would hate the instant noodles for not being sophisticated enough for his pallet and for being ridiculously inexpensive.

Honey swirled a fork full of noodles as she sat on her couch. She shoved the fork into her mouth and chewed. She found the TV remote and turned on the set. Honey loved her television set. She had saved up for six months for this particular model. Almost too big for the apartment, it made Honey feel like she was having a theater experience at home. A quick review of the channels proved, yet again, there was nothing she wanted to watch. She hit play on the DVD. There was always something in the player.

Honey let the movie distract her from her reality, distract her from her fears. She mindlessly ate noodles as she watched some scantily-clad science fiction heroine kick alien butt while the love interest and screaming sidekick blew things up.She tried not to focus on what had just happened. Bryce knew where she lived.

* * *

The customer in front of Honey complained that she had messed up the pastry order and the coffee tasted burned when Lana said “Morgan.” It was unlike Lana to bring up any subject that would cause Honey pain. And Honey knew Lana was aware of how sensitive she was regarding Morgan. She turned away from the grouchy customer to tell Lana she didn’t even have time to think about Morgan right now. Another frustrated customer’s voice from further back grabbed her attention. She looked down the line. She expected to see customers grousing at each other. She did not expect the vision that took her breath away.

Morgan strode past the waiting tourists, stalking towards her. He was taller than she remembered. His eyes were trained on her face, and when she made eye contact, a large dazzling smile brightened his face. His glowing eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the edges. He had more of a tan than she remembered and his hair was slightly longer and curled behind his ears and along the back of his neck. A hint of stubble covered his jaw, drawing her attention to the dimple in his chin. He wore a leather jacket, not his usual plaid work shirt.

Her pulse raced. “Morgan,” she whispered, her mouth too dry to form words.Her pulse raced.

His name barely left her lips when he wrapped his hands around her face and, never breaking eye contact, kissed her. Honey didn’t close her eyes until her brain registered that Morgan’s lips were on hers. They were soft and warm. She melted against him. Morgan held her face and savored her lips. Honey stopped thinking and sank into the long and deep kiss. Everyone and the coffee shop stopped existing.

* * *

Morgan did not let go of her face when he broke off the kiss. He held Honey and stared at her. He’d missed this face. He had longed to see her face like this, eyes closed, lashes brushing her cheeks, lips swollen from his kiss. He continued to hold her face when her eyes fluttered open. His body roared, wanting to claim his mate more fully.

“I am so sorry. I have been gone for too long, and I had no way to let you know what had happened. All I have are paltry excuses. I have to go away again. But not for long. I didn’t stop thinking of you once. I saw your face on my eyelids when I closed them every single night. I came back as soon as I could.” He coiled a finger into the tendrils of hair that framed her face. Morgan extracted a business card from the stack on the counter. “I don’t want to leave you again, but I really have to go. I will be back in three days. Two days, if at all possible, and I will call you okay?” He held up the card showing Honey he now had a phone number where he could reach her.

Honey nodded. “Okay.”

Morgan wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her to him. He kissed her deeply again. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

As he turned, he finally became aware there were actually other people in the shop. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed a hundred dollar bill. “Here.” He handed the bill to Honey then added several more bills with it. “This should take care of this gentleman’s order, and a few more, all right.” Morgan turned toward the disgruntled man, patting him on the back, he said, “Sorry about that, buddy. Enjoy your coffee.” Morgan strode out of the shop.

Morgan looked back at Honey. She still glowed.

* * *

Morgan was gone. She blinked back confusion. The man at the counter was also gone. An older lady stood there.

“Are you okay, sweetie? That was quite the kiss. Did he really pay for all of our drinks? I’ll have a small decaf with a shot of chocolate, and a…” Her voice trailed off in Honey’s ears. She touched her lips. Morgan had planted the most amazing kiss of her life on her in front of a shop full of customers. Then he’d whirled away and left again. “Sweetie? Can you focus after that kiss?”

Honey snapped back to full attention and the woman in front of her. “Sorry, that was a bit mind boggling.”

“It looked like a real toe curler.”

Honey finished her shift in a daze, reliving every nanosecond of watching Morgan walk up to her. She could picture every detail. She could remember every thread on his T-shirt, every stitch on his leather jacket, every faded fold of his jeans, the stylized swirling details on his leather boots. It was amazing how much the brain took in when, at the time, all she had focused on was his face.She relived every sensation of his kiss. The soft feel of his lips, warm and firm pressing against hers. The warmth and strength of his hands holding her face. The feeling of being claimed and comforted and protected. She remembered every nuance of his scent. She realized she had never really had the opportunity to breathe him in before. He smelled wonderful to her, earthy and masculine.

“Lana,” Honey said tentatively, Lana hadn’t said anything regarding Morgan all afternoon. Honey knew Lana had something to say but wouldn’t until the time was right. She had to weigh her feelings over a man who hurt her friend and best employee with her feelings for a man who came in and paid for $160 worth of drinks for strangers. “Lana, if he calls after I go home—”

“I will give him your home number.” The fact that she was willing to give out Honey’s personal number meant that she leaned towards a favorable opinion of Morgan again.

“Thanks.”

Honey spent the last hour of her shift washing dishes and bussing tables. Her mind was not in a place to deal with customers. Honey mooned with a contented grin on her face wiping spirals on a tabletop when Lana called her name.

“Honey. Earth to Honey. Wake up and get the phone!”

Honey grabbed up the towel and carried it with her behind the counter where she retrieved the phone from the cradle.

“Honey!” Morgan’s warm voice came through the phone. She could hear his smile through the earpiece. “I need your phone number. I’ve only got the one for the shop.”

Honey gave Morgan her number. “Do you have your phone on you? Let me call you right now”

“Morgan, what’s…”

Her cell phone, located in her side pocket, started to vibrate. She picked it up and stared at the front. It was not a number already programmed in.

“Honey, answer your phone. It’s me.”

Honey put the cell to her ear. “Morgan?”

“Yes, it’s me. Hang up the shop phone and keep me on your cell.” Honey hung up the shop phone.

“Morgan, where have you been? What’s going on?”

“Honey, I can’t explain right now, but I need you to believe my leaving wasn’t planned. I can tell you all about it when it’s over. I know that’s a lot to ask since I haven’t really shown you any actions that are very trustworthy.”

Honey sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I know I did. You have every right to hate me right now, but I beg you to give me a second chance. Please.”

“Morgan, I… I…”

“Be willing to say my name, sweetheart, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Honey sighed, “Morgan.”

“I’ll take you out on a real date when I get back. You decide where.” Honey could hear another male voice talking to Morgan in the background, muffled. “Look, Honey, I’ve got to go again. I’m riding so I can’t call. I won’t have another break for a while, but I will call you tomorrow, okay.”

“I’m here all day. I’ll be home after seven.”

“Tomorrow I should know how long before I can come back to you.” He paused. Honey could hear him saying something to the other person. “Tomorrow night, Honey.”

“Okay. Tomorrow night, Morgan.”