Project Love (Cascade Brides Series) (2 page)

Or maybe he was just annoyed with her and her lackluster
customer service skills.

She filled the cup to the brim with black coffee,
slipped on the lid and cardboard grip, and placed it before him with
a bright smile. “Here you go!”

He slid a five dollar bill across the counter. “Keep
the change.”

He always paid with a five—always told her to keep the
change. Charity bit her lip. “Oh, we kept you waiting
unnecessarily, so no tip today.”

A look of puzzlement flickered across his handsome
features. Or irritation. She wasn't sure which.

“
A canticle is a hymn or song of praise,” he said
suddenly. “Keep the change.” Then he took his coffee and went to
his usual table in the corner.

Jessie sidled up to her. “Today was obviously
not
the day,” he mocked under his breath.

Charity shushed him, flicking the towel at his arm. He
jumped out of reach, chuckling. She turned back to where Daniel sat
sipping his coffee and perusing a sheaf of paper.

Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll get him to smile
.

Chapter Two

As Daniel Tabor sipped his coffee, he winced at the
bitterness. In fact, he didn't really like coffee.
I just really,
really need the caffeine
.

And the unsweetened bite reminded him to stay on task.
His company, Applied Innovations, required it. And ever since the
civil engineering firm had been contracted by Metro, the pressure had
intensified not only to complete the project on time and under
budget, but they had to interact with the press—a press who paid
lip service to certain City Hall problems and not others. And as a
newer employee, he got to do the not-so-fun stuff, like press
releases.

He frowned at his paperwork, not wanting to get
distracted by politics when he had a deadline. His only respite was
coming into Rose City Java to see Charity.

That galled him almost as his coffee.

Daniel remembered the day she started working. One day
pleasant hipsters with overly chipper attitudes served him coffee.
The next, a petite young woman with long, dark hair was there,
peeking up at him. From then on, her big brown eyes and sweet smile
hit him in the solar plexus every time he walked in the door. Once he
had let slip his first name—something he hadn't intended to do. He
didn't go in for all this over-familiarity stuff. But she had somehow
willed it from him by the force of her personality.

Well, she wouldn't be getting a smile out of him. He had
to draw the line somewhere. Daniel knew of her goal of making him
smile. Heard her whispering about it to her co-workers. And in a
spirit of contrariness, he decided not to yield to the most simple of
social niceties.

I still tip, and that's better than a stupid smile
any day
.

Daniel knew how popular she was with the customers. In
fact, the coffee shop had been recommended to him by a co-worker
impressed with the overall customer service. Everyone loved Charity.
After listening to her interaction with customers over the past three
months, he knew that much was true. She paid everyone an equal bit of
courtesy. She also never played favorites. So why bother being just
one of many? Just another notch on her...coffee cup?

No, a smile might mean she'd lose interest in him. Even
if that interest was spurious, tenuous, and fleeting. While her
enthusiasm was appealing, it also hinted at a flightiness that meant
she'd be off on other ventures before he knew it. And what was the
point of getting spoony over a girl who looked barely nineteen?

In the end, there was simply no point in smiling back.
No point in getting his hopes up over a female—especially with his
workload. There just wasn't time.

His face stiffened as bleak memories surfaced.

Never enough time
.

***

Charity brushed a damp lock of hair from her brow as she
approached her apartment door. She'd spent the day on the side of a
hill in the local park, stripping ivy from apparently beleaguered
trees. While she didn't really understand the need to yank away the
pernicious weed, she fed off the enthusiasm of the group who'd
assembled to work. They were excited, so she was too. Until now. The
late August heat and vegetation allergens had knocked the stuffing
out of her. Glancing up and down the hallways, she slid her abuterol
puffer from her purse and took a deep breath of the medicine.

Stupid asthma.

Everyone else she'd known with the condition had grown
out of it. But it clung to her like the ivy around her ankles as
she'd negotiated the side of that hill. She inhaled deeply, waiting
for the medication to take away the heaviness that sat on her chest,
making the simple intake of oxygen a challenge.

Charity returned the puffer to her purse and unlocked
her door. The apartment was dark and stuffy. Dropping her purse on
the floor, she headed across the room to the bank of windows and
shoved aside the curtains. With the last bit of her energy, she
hoisted open the three windows. A light breeze filtered inside but
did little to alleviate the warmth. Air conditioning was really only
needed a few weeks a year—hence the absence of window units. With
an average annual temperature in the mid-fifties, Portland usually
wasn't so hot. But the summer had dragged on this year, wreaking
havoc on her compromised lungs.

The opened curtains allowed a little light into the
living room, illuminating the small apartment. Fir floors shone dully
under the odd assortment of her roommate's furniture. Eclectic was a
good word for the décor. Polka dotted curtains, striped rugs, and
brightly colored walls. Charity remembered her surprise when she'd
first seen the space after answering a rental ad. Holly, her
roommate, was an artist and kept to herself most of the time—had in
fact stipulated it in the rental agreement that there was to be no
over-socializing.
Which suits me just fine
. Charity headed to
her bedroom and closed the door, eager for a shower to scrub away the
rigors of the day.

Afterwards, wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, she
plumped onto her mattress ensconced on an old iron bedstead she'd
found at a garage sale. From the floral curtains, pastel walls, and
white-washed furniture, her décor tended toward the shabby chic
meme. Which just annoyed Holly who'd described it as clichéd.

I think it's pretty
. Charity went to the window
and pushed the sheers aside. Beyond the jumbled rooftops and office
buildings, she could just make out half of Mount Hood—Oregon's
tallest peak in the Cascade Mountain Range.
The
tallest peak
was Ranier, but that was in Washington state. Charity loved Mount
Hood and knew she was lucky to have any glimpse at all from her
window. What she did see wavered in the late afternoon light.

The sight took her mind back to the phone call she'd
received from Hope three days ago. Why were her sisters looking for
her? Did she and Faith need someone to fuss at? To boss around? To
tell her she was too weak to make it on her own? Charity lifted her
chin.
Doing just fine, thank you very much
. But deep in her
heart she didn't have much to show for her twenty-four years. She
rented half an apartment and walked or took the MAX when she needed
transportation. Even if she could afford a car, there was hardly any
place to park in the city. Her paychecks didn't allow for much beyond
the basics, so she supplemented her social life with social
justice—today it was the apparent injustice of ivy.
I had fun,
met new people, and did some good
.

But to her sisters, it would look like she was
subsisting.

Charity could easily imagine Faith standing over her,
hands on her hips, lecturing her about pulling her own weight. Hope
would be to one side, sniggering and making cutting remarks under her
breath.

I am doing my part. I'm helping my community and
making a difference
. Anyway, she didn't need their approval. So
what if her existence was a bit bohemian? Maybe she was more
open-minded that way. Faith was probably harassing some school kids
somewhere and Hope's bad attitude had relegated to her flipping
burgers in some Podunk town.

Charity blew out a breath. Thinking about her sisters
always put her in a funk.
Which is why I deleted Hope's number
.

She went back to her bed and stretched out on top of the
comforter. Fatigue and frustration weighted her bones and she closed
her eyes. As sleep pulled at the edges of consciousness, she wondered
whether or not she'd attend church the next day. A small frown tugged
at her brows when she thought back to her failure of getting Daniel
to smile.

When I get him to smile, I'll go to church.

Which will be any day now. Any day
.

***

Monday came sooner than Charity was ready for. She
despised her wimpy self for still having muscle aches from Saturday's
excursion in the park. Or maybe she was disappointed in church once
again.

Despite her intention to wait until she could get some
reaction from Daniel, she'd gone to the small community church a few
blocks from her apartment. It was nice. The music was nice. The
people were nice. Too nice. Everyone wanted to meet her, get to know
her, hear about her
whole
life. She grimaced. That was the
problem with those places—all the expectations. The people were
just too personable, too...nosy.

I don't have a problem with God, but it's hard to
focus on God when everyone is introducing you around
. She'd
headed to the big city for a reason—a certain amount of anonymity.
And busyness. She could get a lot done without having to be
responsible for anyone but herself. Right now that meant work.

Charity tightened her apron strings, took a deep breath,
and headed to the counter of Rose City Java.

After an hour of serving and a half-filled jar, she knew
she wasn't the only one suffering from the blues. Perhaps it had come
in with the big weather system, dumping rain while at the same time
keeping the heat contained in the city. All her customers were either
grumpy or not terribly talkative, most in a hurry to get served and
scoot. After the first rush was over, she caught herself looking
toward the doors. If her happiest customers were grouchy, how would
Daniel act?

Not that it really mattered. He was just another
customer after all. But it would be something if today of all days,
she got a smile out of him. Perhaps instead of being uber-friendly,
she could try cool indifference. Charity nibbled her bottom lip. No,
he seemed to be one of those types in need of smiles worse than most.
Glancing at the clock, she straightened her shoulders and decided to
take her cues from him. After all, it wasn't like he owed her a
smile.

No one owed her anything at all.

Daniel dodged quarter-sized raindrops and ducked inside
the doors of Rose City Java. As he stepped inside the shop, a drop of
water made it down his collar and slithered down his neck. He
grimaced. He didn't usually mind the rain. But the getting wet
part—not so much. And it wasn't as if he could carry an umbrella.
No self-respecting Oregonian did. Rain was liquid sunshine. It was
what kept the state green and that was good—if uncomfortable
inching its way between his shoulder blades.

Giving himself a small shake, he headed toward the
counter. As expected, Charity was there, rubbing at some imperfection
in the wood with a bar towel. She looked up at his approach.

The first thing he noticed were the dark smudges beneath
her eyes—smudges that persisted despite her bright smile. Was she
ill? Upset? It was on the tip of his tongue to demand a reason.

“
Good morning, Daniel,” she said quietly. “The
same?”

It took him a moment to realize she'd spoken. He
blinked, snapping himself from his scrutiny. It bothered him that she
wasn't at her best. Or maybe she just hadn't gotten a full night's
sleep. But he couldn't ask. Not when he hadn't deigned to stretch his
lips upward in greeting. Daniel lowered his gaze and nodded.

He watched surreptitiously as she went to fill his
order. Another employee elbowed her in the ribs and whispered
something to her under his breath. Charity gave a quick shake of her
head and put a plastic cap on the filled cup. When she returned to
the counter, she peered up at him from under her dark lashes.

Before she could tell him the cost, he slid a five
dollar bill toward her. “Thanks.”

Daniel took the coffee and retreated to his usual table
in the corner.

Charity turned toward her boss—partly to send him
stink-eye for embarrassing her in front of Daniel, but also to hide
her face from her customer. The man had seemed different today. His
usual impassive expression had given way to a frown. And he'd stared
at her as if he was unhappy with what he'd seen. While she was
inclined to be annoyed, she sensed something besides disapproval in
his gaze. It was almost as if he'd somehow been...concerned. But what
a silly idea. He didn't know her well enough to make such a judgment.
He didn't know her at all. Though it wasn't for a lack of trying on
her part.

She thought of the nosy people at the church she
attended yesterday. Well-meaning but nosy. That was bad enough. No
need to go looking for it at work, too.