New Year's with the Single Dad

Single dad of Seattle, Dr. Emmett Strong doesn't believe in soulmates. Not since his ex-wife blindsided him with divorce papers, breaking not just his heart, but his daughter's, as well. Eighteen months later, it's just the two of them and he intends to keep it that way. He won't hurt Josie again by bringing another woman into her life. However, fate has other plans and on New Year's Eve, sparks instantly fly when he bumps into the intriguing and beautiful Zara.

Coffee!

He
needed coffee.

He
needed to hook himself up to an espresso IV or at the very least put his large
black coffee into a camel pack on his back.

How
in the world was he going to get through this day? This night?

Stomping
off the snow from his black dress shoes and loosening the collar of his coat,
Dr. Emmett Strong stepped toward the front counter of the downtown Seattle coffee
shop. What were the odds he’d managed to arrive at just the right moment and
miss standing in line for twenty minutes?

Were
things finally looking up?

It
was about time.

He
walked up to one of the two baristas standing there, waiting to take orders.

“What
can I getcha?” the barista with the goatee asked him, his red tie just slightly
crooked.

“Large
coffee with two shots of espresso, please. And an everything bagel toasted with
cream cheese, lox and cucumber slices.” His brow instantly furrowed as he heard
his order come out of his mouth and realized it was somehow said in stereo.

The
two baristas behind the counter at the side-by-side cash registers gave him and
the person next to him an equally surprised, almost spooked look. They had
apparently ordered the exact same thing at the exact same time.

What
were the odds?

He
turned to see who shared his taste in breakfasts to find a very attractive
woman laughing. Her light brown hair was cut in a sleek bob that fell just
beneath her chin, and her sky-blue eyes sparkled.

“Good
choice,” she said, continuing to laugh. “Just know that if they only have one
bagel left, it’s got my name on it. I’m running late for work, and I’m freaking
starved.”

“You
two don’t know each other?” the male barista asked.

Emmett
shook his head. So did the striking woman beside him.

“Just
kindred breakfast spirits,” she said lightly.

“We
have enough bagels for both,” the female barista said, her chipper tone
indicating she’d probably had a shot or two—or three—of espresso herself that
morning. “Though we’ve never had the exact same order at the exact same time
like that. It was spooky.”

The
two baristas continued to ring up Emmett and this mystery woman’s breakfast.
They both pulled out credit cards and paid, then moved to the side like
well-trained cattle so the next hungry Seattle caffeine addict could pump
ethically traded Arabica into their bloodstream and make it through the day—and
what was inevitably going to be a long night for everyone.

Even
though it was now New Year’s Eve day, Christmas decorations still hung from the
ceiling and painted the coffee shop windows, and the radio station over the
speakers continued to blast out tunes like Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas.” He would
be glad when they could get back to the regular scheduled programming of
tasteful classic rock and no sparkly shit hitting his head as he waited for his
breakfast.

Until
Valentine’s season hit them like that fat winged-baby’s arrow, that is. Then it’d
be all red and pink hearts and more glitter—AKA the herpes of craft supplies. His
almost six-year-old daughter, JoJo, loved anything and everything sparkly. He
was always finding glitter in the laundry, his shoes—his food.

She
needed to keep that crap at her mother’s.

He
glanced at the woman beside him. She was tall. Not super tall, not taller than
his six-three frame, but taller than his ex. Taller than most women.

She
held her chin up with a confidence he admired, her eyes laser-focused forward,
her full lips resting in a kind line. She had a great profile, and an air of
ease and sureness surrounded her like a soft glow.

He
must have been staring too intensely because her eyes slid to the side and she
turned to face him. “Think they’ll put the orders up at the same time, or are
we going to have to duke it out for the first one?”

Emmett’s
lip twitched into a small smile. “You can have it.”

Her
light blue eyes squinted just slightly, and she made a fist with her hand and
flexed her coat-covered arm. “You sure you don’t want to arm-wrestle for it?”

Emmett
chuckled and scanned the coffee shop. “Afraid there are no empty tables.” He
snapped his fingers. “Shucks. And I was so looking forward to kicking
your butt.”

He’d
been in a crappy mood this morning—too much beer at poker night last
night—combined with the fact this past year had been complete shit. But this
woman’s smile pulled him from the dark place he’d woken up in. In fact, her wide
smile made his stomach do a somersault and caused heat to pool in various
places in his body—various intimate places.

“Oh,
that’s some ego you got there,” she said, her carefree attitude causing his own
shoulders to shake off some of their tension.

“I
prefer to simply call it confidence,” he stated, matching her smile.

She
stuck her hand out. “Zara Olsen.”

He
took her hand. It was soft, but the shake held strength. “Emmett Strong.”

She
tossed her head back and laughed. She had a great laugh. “Your last name is Strong?”

He
knew his grin was goofy, but he didn’t care. He liked how he felt around this
woman. He liked her. “Yep. Told ya, I’d whoop you at an arm-wrestle. My name
doesn’t lie.”

“Well,
if that’s what we’re doing here, my last name isn’t Olsen, it’s Brilliant.
Zara Brilliant.” She thrust her hand forward once again. “Pleased to make your
acquaintance.”

Oh,
yeah, he definitely liked her. Pretty and witty—a winning combo if ever there
was one.

Twenty
years ago, when he was an undergrad on the prowl in a hopping night club, he
would have been a drunk idiot and thrown out a line like “Your last name
should be Gorgeous.” But he was too smart for that shit now. He shook his
head at the memory of how much of a pussy-obsessed beast he’d been. He’d do his
best to keep JoJo away from guys like him. His ego back then could have
eclipsed the sun.

He
fought the urge to shudder at the embarrassing memories.

He
wasn’t that guy now.

He’d
grown up. He’d matured. He’d become a father to a beautiful little girl who he
wanted to wrap in bubble wrap and shield from any and all heartache.

Zara
lifted a dark eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Mr. Strongman?” Her very full lips wiggled at one
corner as she tried not to smile.

Emmett’s
chest shook, and he grinned back at her. “Yep, just telling the twenty-year-old
in me to not say the line I would have said two decades ago.” Oh, why
did he reveal that? Now she’d want to know what he was thinking.

Curiosity
stole across her features, and she opened her mouth, but they were saved by the
barista. “Extra-large black coffee, double espresso shot and an everything
bagel with cream cheese, lox and cucumber,” the male barista said, interrupting
their banter.

Oh,
thank God.

Emmett
inclined his head forward to offer Zara the coffee and bagel first and was
about to say something like “After you” when the barista plunked the duplicates
down and said, “Times two.”

They
each reached for their coffees and breakfasts. Emmett’s knuckles brushed hers
just as they wrapped their fingers around their enormous to-go coffee cups, and
a surge of something he could only define as electric attraction sprinted from
his hand straight down between his legs.

“Enjoy
your breakfast, Mr. Strong,” Zara said, once again tossing her head back
and laughing as she made to leave. She shot him a smile over her shoulder and
shook her head, chuckling as she heaved the door open and headed down the
sidewalk.

Why
hadn’t he asked her to sit and have breakfast with him? Why hadn’t he asked for
her number? Why had he just stood there like an idiot and smiled like an idiot
and flirted like an idiot, allowing the most beautiful and interesting woman
he’d met in a long while walk right out the door?