All the Cuts and Scars We Hide by Garry Michael
Eight: Kai
Even His Coffee Selection Would Be Sexy
My curiosity grew the closer we got to the café. With my mind going a million miles per hour, I stayed collected and tried not to be bothered by his intoxicating smell that was carried by the breeze. I ignored the way my stomach flipped whenever I got a whiff of the fresh scent that reminded me of the ocean breeze in Hawai’i.
Still puzzled, I stole a glance at him and if his tensed jaw and rigid posture were any indications, he clearly didn’t want to be there with me. How could someone be that wound up? Is this a date? Are we friends now?
“Hi Wyatt,” a cheerful older woman greeted before hugging him.
Towering over her, Wyatt leaned to give her his best attempt at a hug, looking even more uncomfortable if that was possible. “Hi Mrs. Turnley, how did you get here?” he asked after the shortest embrace in the history of all embraces.
“My neighbor Marion is visiting her friend,” she said and pointed to the building across the street, named the Spring Hill Retirement Home. “And asked if I wanted to tag along,” she explained while looking between Wyatt and me.
When Wyatt, who I was learning was a man of few words, didn’t say anything after a few seconds, Mrs. Turnley reached out a hand to introduce herself. “Hi sweetie, my name is Anna Turnley.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, this is Kai,” Wyatt introduced me before I had the chance to respond to her. “Kai, this is Mrs. Turnley.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Turnley.”
“You too, sweetie. I haven’t seen you here before, are you visiting?” she asked after shaking my hand.
“No, I just moved here recently.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Welcome to San Juan Island!” she enthused with sparkling eyes.
I returned her smile. “Thanks.”
“You’ll love it here. How do you know Wyatt?” she asked, followed by another glance between me and him.
“We just met a couple of days ago,” I spoke first.
“We’re just about to get some coffee,” Wyatt continued.
“Oh!” Her smile grew wider with her eyes still sparkling, before she continued, “Move along then. Don’t let me interrupt you, boys.” The not-so-subtle wink she gave Wyatt made him shake his head, but that was the extent of his reaction. Mrs. Turnley waved goodbye before crossing the street to meet up with her friend.
“She’s sweet,” I said once we continued our walk to the café.
“She is,” he agreed.
Like I said, a man of few words.
“Wanna sit outside?” he asked as soon as we reached the shop.
“Sure!”
“Why don’t you grab a table and I’ll get the drinks,” Wyatt said before he turned and headed in. The way he strode across the patio made me think a door was unnecessary, he could simply bust through the walls. The door opened and out came a couple holding their drinks. Instead of grabbing the door handle, he reached above their heads to open it, exposing a sliver of his tight abdomen, and making my breath hitch.
“Wait,” I called out when I recovered from my shameless ogling, but he was already inside. I was about to follow him to let him know what I wanted to drink, but a group of teenagers tried to take our spot. “I’m sorry, but I’m actually sitting there.” Expecting a smart assed comment or a rude reaction, I braced myself for what was to come.
“Oh no worries, we’ll find another one. Enjoy your day,” one of them said, smiling.
I was both surprised and guilty for prejudging the kids. And I shouldn’t be calling them kids, I was only twenty-four years old and these guys were probably just a few years younger than me.
After reclaiming our spot, I looked around and marveled at the quaintness of this small town on this beautiful island. The streets were lined with a clash of classic, art deco, and contemporary buildings that somehow found harmony with each other. The blending of period styles reminded me of the project I presented before graduating from the University of Hawai’i’s School of Architecture. Boutique shops ranging from small leather goods to old-fashioned candy stores lined Main Street. Each street had tall, black, ornate, metal street lamps that had an assortment of purple, red, and pink flower baskets hanging from them.
Wyatt came out holding a tray with four beverages and several cookies. Confused, I asked, “Is someone else joining us?”
Wyatt combed the back of his head and looked at me sheepishly. “I forgot to ask what you wanted so I ordered a latte, an iced coffee, a mocha, and a plain black coffee,” he said. “Same with the cookies.” He pointed to each one of them and gave me the rundown of their flavors. “This is chocolate chip,” he said when he pointed to the one on the right. His finger moved to the one in the middle, “This is white chocolate with coconut and macadamia nuts, I figured you might like that being from Hawai’i and all.” Then he pointed to the one in the last cookie, “And this is oatmeal raisin if you’re trying to be healthy. They’re out of muffins and this is all Andrea had left. This place is very popular with tourists and locals so they’re usually out of the good stuff around this time. But you already know that.” He blew out a breath and leaned back in the metal chair, avoiding eye contact.
Speechless, the best I could do was listen to every single word that was coming out of his mouth. That was the most considerate and thoughtful thing someone outside my family had ever done for me. Not even my ex-boyfriend would’ve done that. I swallowed the bile creeping out of my throat at the thought of my ex-boyfriend, Noah. “Thank you. You could’ve just come out and asked so you didn’t have to spend all that money,” I said and pulled my wallet out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Paying some of this,” I explained.
“I don’t want your money. I invited you, so it’s no big deal.” He was rubbing his palm on his thigh, once again looking everywhere but at me.
“Which are you going to have?” I asked, my mouth watering, eager to try the cookies.
“Whatever you don’t want,” Wyatt answered.
I looked at him. Didn’t he know how incredibly thoughtful this was? He hardly knew me and here he was putting me first and willing to sacrifice something just to make sure I got what I wanted. Maybe sacrifice was the wrong choice of words, but that’s what it felt like.
“You don’t want any of them?” he asked, after seconds of analyzing my slow decision-making.
“Oh no! I’d like the mocha to drink, and the white chocolate, coconut, macadamia cookie,” I responded to avoid making a complete idiot of myself.
“Great choices,” he said, as he grabbed the black coffee without putting any cream or sugar in the cup.
Of course, even his coffee selection would be sexy.
A few minutes had gone by and it quickly became obvious that Wyatt didn’t want to start the conversation. I could end his misery by letting him off the hook or just leave, but there was something so intriguing about him that I couldn’t pull myself away and I was determined to find out what that was.