The Wonder of You by Susan May Warren

direction, one hand braced against the wall over her shoulder, gaze in hers, searching.
    When she could taste her heart in her throat.
    “Amelia,” he said quietly, so softly she felt it more than heard it. “ Extreme doesn’t begin to describe what I’d do to win you back.”
    His words pulled her back to the present: the sounds of the beans spilling, the frothing machine, Kathy barking orders at the counter.
    Ree and Vivie laughing from across the room.
    He gave her a sad smile, and it settled deep inside her.
    Oh, Roark.
    She managed a quick, sharp shake of her head and fled to the safety of her friends.
    “What do you mean you said no?” Ree said after Amelia ran down their short, brutal conversation. “What more does the man have to do?”
    Maybe not so safe after all. Amelia sat there gripping her coffee, the sense of him still like heat inside her.
    Roark had returned. For her. Because of her.
    And Saturday, that had been him pulling Yulia’s mother from the river, trying to revive her.
    “You know, he probably needs a tour guide, being new in town,” Vivie said. “I think I’ll go offer my services.”
    “Vivie!” Ree said, but Vivien was already on her feet.
    This time, Amelia caught her arm. “If anyone is showing him around town, Viv, it’s me.” She got up and walked back to the counter.
    “Still making coffee,” Roark said, not looking at her. “Not going away.”
    “I’ll have dinner with you.”
    He smiled. “I’ll come around about seven.”
    Oh, well   —“Meet me at the Harbor Grill.”
    “Fair enough.” He capped another drink. “Chai latte for Vivien?”
    “I got that,” Amelia said.
    “Attagirl,” Vivien said as she delivered it. “Now, let’s angle our chairs and watch Mr. Bond save the world with coffee.”

    Apparently Claire Atwood had become his dating therapist.
    “So how much do I tell her?” Roark said. He looked into the dusty medicine cabinet mirror, one hand running the shaver, the other holding his mobile. He could hardly believe his fortune   —not only seeing Amelia, but getting her to agree to a date on his first day of work.
    And Ethan had doubted him. He’d texted the guy, just to set him straight.
    “Well, don’t mention the R word. We already know that. But you have to tell her enough so that she’ll give you another chance.”
    “Right.”
    “I think the fire story might be too much. You haven’t told her that, have you?”
    “I omitted that.” In fact, he’d omitted nearly everything the first time around   —depended on charm and his vast knowledge of the trivial to make her laugh. “I did teach her about wine. And how to crack an oyster.”
    “What every girl longs to know.”
    He finished the shave, tucked the razor back into his kit. “I mostly let her talk. She told me about her life   —and I listened. I’ve heard girls like it when you listen.”
    “You’re not wrong,” Claire said.
    Through the line, he heard Jensen say, “Tell him to take her out to the lighthouse. That’s a great place to   —”
    “Jens! It’s a first date!”
    Not quite, but it felt that way, the way Roark’s stomach had roiled with nerves all day. He’d managed to keep his mind on working his way through the different specialty drinks, pulling the perfect shot of espresso and frothing the latte milk to the exact temperature.
    It didn’t help that Amelia and her henchmen sat like critics for the better part of the morning. Or that she’d left with nary another word to him. But he held fast to her promise to meet him.
    “Reiterate that Cicely was a friend. That she needed someone to talk to, and yes, that you had a history. It’s all true.”
    “I said all that before. It didn’t seem to matter. And then I left   —how do I explain that?”
    “Your uncle had a heart attack   —which is true too.”
    “So play the sympathy card?”
    “Have you never faked an injury to get a girl? Jens, this boy of yours could use some