No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) (4 page)

Perhaps, what it came down to was that Micky saw Kristin as a role model. She was an out lesbian with a long-term partner and her own business. She was a lot of things Micky could only dream of being. Or could she do more than dream?

✶ ✶ ✶

After the morning rush had passed and Amber had come and gone—and a dinner date at Kristin and Sheryl’s had been set up for the coming Saturday—Micky relaxed with a macchiato, leafing through a copy of
LOTL
magazine.

She had just gotten engrossed in a story about an older lesbian coming out of the closet—called a
latebian
in the article—when the door of The Pink Bean opened. Micky’s reflex was to look up, and she saw it was Robin. She wasn’t dressed in the pantsuit Micky had become used to seeing her in. Instead, she wore a tiny pair of shorts, long, white socks pulled up all the way to her knees and a very tight tank top. She was also covered in sweat, which made her arms glisten—and her biceps and triceps stand out in a pretty impressive manner.

Crikey
.

Robin ordered her ridiculously named beverage from Josephine, and instead of waiting for it at the counter the way she always did, she sat down at the table next to Micky’s.

Micky tried to focus on the article she’d been reading, but the words danced in front of her eyes. Her gaze kept being pulled to Robin’s legs and the bare patch of thigh between the socks and the shorts. This woman boasted some serious muscle tone. But what was up with the socks?

“I do CrossFit,” Robin said. “That’s why I wear these.” She patted the sock closest to Micky. “They protect my shins when I do deadlifts.”

Had she been reading Micky’s mind? Additionally, Robin might as well have been speaking Chinese, judging by how much of what she’d said Micky had actually understood.

“Oh,” she replied, just to say something. She was also perplexed that haughty Robin would even take the time to speak to her—a lowly coffee-shop employee.

“Here you go.” Josephine brought over Robin’s cappuccino.

Robin thanked Josephine, stirred her coffee once, then looked at Micky. “What’s your story then?”

Was she actually making conversation with Micky after having been so rude to her last week? Micky had seen her come in every day since, but as though luck itself had shone down on her, she’d never had to serve her. And what kind of a question was that? What was wrong with a simple hello, perhaps followed by a quick apology for being such an ass the other day?

Micky fixed her with a stare that, hopefully, said all she had to say. But then she remembered Kristin’s words—delivered in her head in Kristin’s gentle tone of voice. “The customer is always right, even if they’re wrong.” Micky had no choice but to be nice to her.

“Why does a woman of your age work in a place like this?” Robin didn’t let up. She had the kind of voice that, Micky suspected, got a lot of things done.

“Circumstance,” Micky said, but only because she had to answer something.

Not only did Robin order the most ridiculous drink, she was also wearing an insane outfit, she’d been rude to Micky without offering an apology, and the tone she addressed Micky with was hardly convivial. Micky wanted to just get up and leave. This job was supposed to empower her, not have the opposite effect.

“Ha, you’re the mysterious type,” Robin said. “That’s okay. Color me intrigued. Will you at least tell me your name?” She had the audacity to smile seductively at Micky.

Wait. Was that really what that smile looked like?

“It’s Micky.” Micky’s head was about to start spinning.

“Well, Micky, how about tomorrow when I come in, I ask you out? I’m giving you a heads-up because you look like the type who has to think about it for at least twenty-four hours.”

Micky’s jaw slacked. “What?” she managed to say after a few long, awkward seconds.

“Think about it.” Robin winked, then looked away and downed her coffee in a few large gulps. When she got up, she said, “I need to hit the shower and get to work. See you tomorrow.”

Micky was still recovering from what had just happened after Robin was long gone.

✶ ✶ ✶

Micky had needed the yoga class she attended with Amber the previous afternoon more than she’d ever needed it before. She had also needed Amber’s advice—though she could easily predict it.

“It’s a sign,” Amber had said. “Take the opportunity with both hands.”

“But… I can’t stand the woman,” Micky countered, whereupon Amber put her hands on her sides and gave Micky one of her looks.

“I think you can. Give her a chance. Perhaps she’s exactly the kind of person you’re looking for at this time of your life. You like loud, brash people, Micky, we both know that. You’re not looking for someone else to marry at this point, however, and she’s hot.”

Micky shook her head in desperation. Robin asking her out might very well be a sign of something else entirely. Like letting Micky know this was a bad idea and she should get her priorities straight.

Amber grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “Go for it, Micky. I’ll call you when the date is in progress so that, if you need an excuse, you can leave. I’ll pretend to be Olivia.”

Micky did want to go for it, but not with a CrossFitting arrogant woman like Robin. Though, as usual, there was a sliver of truth to Amber’s words when she claimed that Micky liked the type. Unless she had a different taste in women than in men. She had always loved Darren’s loud, look-at-me ways—an aspect of his personality that was beginning to show in Olivia. But at least Darren had never been obnoxious and he was always polite.

Then again, the fact that she was so conflicted about Robin and that she found it surprisingly hard to give her a clear no for an answer, must mean something.

So, by the time Robin entered The Pink Bean—not sporting white knee socks this time, but dressed impeccably in a navy pantsuit over a bright white blouse—and fixed her with a stare, Micky was ready to say yes. Even though she could be making the worst mistake of her life. But then, at least, she would have tried. She would have conquered some of her fear, just by saying one simple word: yes.

Robin drew her lips into a magnetic smile, giving Micky the impression that she was really turning it on for her. Perhaps she had one of those Jekyll & Hyde personalities. It did gnaw at Micky that Robin was the sort of person who could treat service personnel so rudely, without even apologizing for it. Being nice to people, in the end, didn’t cost a thing. Being nasty, as Amber would say, always cost you in karma points and putting negative energy into the universe.

But, more than any of that, Micky had the strong urge to show Robin that she was so much more than a woman working in a coffee shop. Even if whatever she was trying to prove was more to herself than anyone else, she felt as though she could only accomplish that by rising to this challenge. She was skilled at hiding it, except from Amber, but Micky had suffered from issues of decreasing self-esteem since her divorce—an overall sentiment of floating on thin air and not having a clue where her life was going—and, if she was honest, the fact that someone like Robin would be interested in her, was a boost to her ego.

“Have you thought about it?” Robin asked, while she waited for her coffee.

Micky felt self-conscious standing behind the counter, with Josephine only a few feet away. She rubbed her hands on her apron. Was she really going to do this? A flare of last-minute doubts shot through her, but then she caught Robin’s gaze and it was one of those looks that felt aimed at her and her alone, and made Micky feel like she was the most important woman on the planet.

“My answer is yes,” she said, keeping the tremor that reverberated through her muscles out of her voice successfully. She also wanted some time alone with Robin to ask her how she had known that Micky would even be interested in going on a date with another woman. What had given her away? The magazine she’d been reading and her level of being engrossed in it? Or the simple fact that she worked at The Pink Bean and was therefore gay by association?

“Terrific.” Robin looked like she’d just closed a big, long-awaited deal—the kind of smug Micky had a strange soft spot for. “Are you free this weekend?”

“Er, no.” Micky had anticipated this question, and while she had no problem going to dinner at Kristin and Sheryl’s during a weekend the kids were with her, she couldn’t possibly go on a date with a stranger. What would she say to them?
While I was working at The Pink Bean a woman asked me out?
“I’m not actually.”

“You keep intriguing me, Micky.” Robin’s tone became flirty. “When
are
you free?”

“Not before next Wednesday.” Wednesday was switch-over day. Micky picked Olivia and Christopher up after school every other week so they wouldn’t have to take the bus with their stuff, even though they had two sets of all essentials by now.

Robin chuckled. “Not tonight either?”

“Tonight?” Micky exclaimed in panic. She was free that night, but it wouldn’t give her any time to mentally prepare. Maybe that was how she needed this to go, however. Given the opportunity to wait a week, and think this date to death before it had even happened, would most likely make her back out. Why not tonight? The kids were only coming back tomorrow. It would save her another lonely evening watching television. “Yes, I’m free tonight.”

“Excellent. I’ll make a reservation at Fabio’s just down the block. Shall we meet for drinks at Barrio first? Around seven thirty?”

Drinks at seven thirty? When on earth would they have dinner? Now that she worked and got up at five thirty every morning, Micky liked to be in bed by ten. But this was no time to consider sleep. Sacrifices had to be made here.

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.” Robin dug a hand in her blazer pocket and handed Micky a card. “Here’s my number in case you need to reach me.” She shot Micky another million-dollar smile.

Micky stared at the card in her hands, then back at Robin. She didn’t have a business card of her own to hand out.

“I need to get to the office now. Looks like I’ll be knocking off early tonight.” She winked at Micky. She retrieved her takeaway coffee from the counter, turned, and left.

“Did I hear that correctly?” Josephine whispered. “Are you going out with the alpha?”

The alpha?
Micky couldn’t think of a better description herself. “Looks like I am.”

“Good on ya, Micky.” Josephine nodded approvingly. “Truth be told, I didn’t even know you were batting for our team, but I guess working here and all, it makes sense now.”

Micky didn’t reply. Her brain was busy dealing with the consequences of being rocked out of her post-divorce lull and trying to process she was going on a date with Robin. She looked at the card in her hand. Robin Mortimer. Regional Diversity Manager for Asia Pacific, it said. Obviously she worked for Goodwin Stark, one of the big banks. Thank goodness not NPBC, where Darren worked. What did a diversity manager even do? She would have ample opportunity to find out tonight.

Shit
. Tonight.

CHAPTER SIX

Micky had hesitated between going to yoga and getting a pep talk from Amber or taking a much-needed afternoon nap, what with the prospect of staying up past her bedtime that night. She’d opted for the nap, only to find herself tossing and turning, her mind unable to relax, her heart beating in her throat with nerves. Was she really doing this? Or was she simply losing her mind?

The afternoon passed painfully slowly, but then, when the time came to get ready, she didn’t know where it had gone. She could have used another few days to get herself—and her mindset—ready for this. What had she said to Amber the other day?
I do hope I have the good fortune of going on my very first same-sex date with someone a bit nicer.
And here she was. Deciding what to wear to meet Robin Mortimer. The whole thing was ludicrous.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and, out loud, said, “I should cancel.”

She looked around for her phone and Robin’s card. It would be so easy to send a text message. It would all be over and done with. And then what? Everything would go back to being normal. Wasn’t that exactly what Micky was trying to escape? She knew it was just fear holding her back at this point. First-date jitters as well, of course. Micky’s last first date was more than twenty years ago, when Darren had asked her out. When she came to think of it, something she hadn’t done in a long time, the way Darren had approached her was not unlike Robin had.

Micky had been helping out at a student union party. She was pulling beers behind the bar when this cocky guy came up to her and said, “I don’t care that you’re selling them. I’m buying you a beer.”

“I don’t drink beer,” Micky had protested, even though she did. She just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of easily complying.

“Then let me take you out for a nice bottle of wine. How does tomorrow evening sound?”

Was she attracted to Robin because she was a female version of her ex-husband, despite the appalling way in which they’d met? Micky was no psychiatrist, but she reasoned that she might be looking for something familiar to hold on to.

Micky snapped to, chasing the memory of Darren from her mind, and refocused on the blouse she had pulled from her closet. If she wanted to cancel, she would have to do so right then. Any later would make it very impolite—or perhaps more plausible that she had an emergency. Micky had two children. She always had an excuse.

“I’m going on this date,” she said to herself, watching her lips move in the mirror. “Fuck it. I’m doing it.”

✶ ✶ ✶

Robin was dressed in jeans and a white blouse with pink vertical stripes. Micky was only two minutes late, but Robin had obviously arrived a while ago because a half-empty bottle of red wine stood in front of her.

Robin rose when she saw her and pecked Micky on the cheek.

“Did I get the time wrong?” Micky asked.

“Nope. I just like to arrive early.” Was that a hint of kindness in Robin’s eyes?

Micky sat down, desperately wanting—needing—some of that wine. “What are you drinking?”

“A heavenly Barossa Shiraz from the year 2012.” Robin seemed to know her wines. “Australian wines can be quite spectacular. Mind you, after five years in Singapore and Hong Kong, where they charge you an arm and a leg for the export bin stuff, I’m easily pleased.” She started looking around for a waiter. “Want to try?” She offered Micky her glass.