Thirty and Single.

Chapter 2.

I pulled into the parking lot of The Busy Bean, one of the best and most charming coffee shops in town. It was dimly lit with warm Edison bulbs and filled with the comforting aroma of freshly ground beans and flaky pastries. We'd agreed on a coffee date because we both loved coffee. Or at least that's what Owen said in his profile.

As I stepped inside, my heart did that nervous flutter thing it always did before first dates. Blind ones were even worse. I scanned the room for any tall, handsome man who might fit Owen's vague profile picture, praying silently, Please God, let him be tall. At least tall.

I texted him:
"Hey, I'm here. Just grabbed a booth."

His reply came a second later:
"On my way in. Few minutes."

I slid into the booth near the window one seat past the counter, like I'd mentioned and glanced toward the door each time the bell jingled. I must have looked like a golden retriever waiting for its owner.

I pulled out my phone, not to text anyone because honestly, I don't text many people but to distract myself. I scrolled through my camera roll aimlessly: blurry selfies, photos of my family, half-finished story drafts I'd screenshotted in a moment of inspiration that never blossomed into anything real.

Then my phone rang. The screen lit up with an unknown number.

"H...hello?" I answered, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

"Hey, it's Owen," the voice said, deep, steady, kind. "I just walked in. Where are you sitting?"

"One booth after the counter. Near the window."

"Got it."

I hung up just as I felt someone approach.

"You must be Genesis," he said. His voice was the same, deep, pleasant and now I could attach it to a face.

I looked up, heart beating a little faster. He was... not exactly movie-star handsome, but not bad looking either. Tall, thank you God, broad shoulders, clean-shaven, with thick dark hair and clear hazel eyes. There was something about him. Maybe it was his sense of style. Crisp button-down shirt, dark jeans, brown leather boots. Confident. Effortless.

I smiled politely. "Yes, that's me."

He slid into the seat across from me. "Nice to meet you. I'm Owen."

"Genesis." I offered my hand. He shook it gently, then looked down and smiled. Shy. Cute.

The waiter came by and we placed our orders. I asked for a cappuccino, and he ordered a vanilla latte.

"So..." he began, taking a sip once our drinks arrived. "This place is cozy."

"It's my favourite," I admitted. "Has the best muffins, too. Not that I should be eating them."

He chuckled. "A muffin won't kill you. Life's too short to skip good pastries."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that next time I weigh myself," I teased.

He laughed, easing into his seat. The tension between us began to dissolve.

"So, Owen. What do you do for work?"

"I'm a real estate agent," he said, proud but modest. "Mostly commercial properties. You?"

"I'm a publisher. Belleza Magazine."

He blinked. "No way! Belleza? That's amazing. I love that magazine. My ex-wife used to collect every issue."

I raised a brow. "Ex-wife?"