The Perfect Blend by Allie Pleiter Read Free Book Online

After so much ice, the heat feels cleansing. The blend of smooth milk, sharp coffee, silky foam and luxurious flavors—not to mention the vital caffeine factor—revives me. I close my eyes and sigh.
    Will picks up a milk-glass vase I had sitting on my coffee table and sets the flowers in it. “I’ll give you one thing, Maggie Black, you’re in the right business.”
    â€œStopping flying objects with my face?” Hey, I can raise one eyebrow (useful sarcasm tool, you know). I couldn’t manage that yesterday.
    â€œNo, coffee. I’ve never seen anyone enjoy it quite so much.” You know, Will’s a much nicer guy than I gave him credit for. There’s a natural calm about him. A solidness that I don’t think I can put down simply to British understatement. Today, here, he’s different. Something in between the suit-clad banker and the mud-spattered rugby player. Reserved, but with a hint of fun peeking through. He sits back down on the couch and I notice how the blue of his eyes changes in different lights. They’re more blue than gray this morning. “So,” he says gently, “how are you feeling?”
    â€œSwollen. Sore. Like I might want to stay far away from any rugby friends of yours.”
    Will laughs. “Oh, you should see Art. He’s nearly folded over with guilt. It was a laugh, watching such a big lad try to explain it all to the tiny lady at the flower shop. He could barely bring himself to say what he’d done. Enormously funny, until…”
    â€œUntil…”
    â€œUntil I had him write Margaret Black on the card, at which our tiny shop lady turned into a dragon. It seems…”
    â€œYou went to GreenThings on Thirty-Sixth, didn’t you?” How could I have missed that on the card? No wonder I liked the arrangement so much. “Will, that’s where I work.”
    â€œYes, well, I know that. Now. Your Mrs….”
    â€œChang, Nancy Chang. And I’ll just bet she let your buddy Art have it.” Oh, I would have given anything to see tiny Nancy Chang telling off enormous Art Sumners—in high-velocity Chinese, no doubt. When that woman gets her dander up, you don’t even need a translator to know you’re in deep, deep trouble.
    Will pinches the bridge of his nose again, laughing softly, obviously reliving the scene. “Yes, well I doubt he will recover from his tongue-lashing anytime soon. He was positively beet-red by the time I dragged him out of the store. I was already planning to bring you some coffee, but she nearly marched us around the corner herself. She made Art memorize and recite your favorite drink before she’d let him leave the store.
    Now I’m laughing, even though it hurts. “I was wondering how you’d managed to show up with my favorite drink. I don’t recall there being a blank for that on those hundreds of bank forms you made me fill out. Thanks for the coffee, by the way,” I say, suddenly remembering my manners, “and thanks for the A, too. I was only kidding about that, you know.”
    â€œNo, you weren’t.” He counters, his eyes sparkling for a moment before adopting a more professional tone. “And I’ll advise you that such a stunt will only work once with me. You’ll earn every other A you get in my class. And you’ll turn in every assignment on time,” his voice suddenly softens again, “although I will grant a limited number of injury-related extensions.”
    I nod, only because I can’t figure this guy out. One minute he’s my hero, fawning all over me. The next he’s a taskmaster, cracking his tutorial whip.
    â€œSo,” he continues, producing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it on the coffee table for me to read, “I’ve adapted this week’s homework assignment to suit your…limited capabilities.”
    I attempt to sit up. “My capacities