“No, Archer, for the thousandth time – you can’t have a dog!”

 “But Mom, come on, dogs are so cool and – “

“I thought we were done discussing this a long time ago, young man.”

“You’re just being really unreasonable, and I think…”

  I leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed heavily, squeezing my eyes shut while I covered my face with my hands.

 Make no mistake; I loved my son more than anything else in this world. I’d be damned if he didn’t drive me up a wall 99% of the time, though.

   Whoever said single parenting wasn’t a walk in the park was most certainly not joking. I had no idea it would be this difficult. If it weren’t for my sisters and mom helping with Archer at every chance they got, I knew I’d be beyond lost. Most Italian families tended to be soldered as it is, but mine seemed to be a little more overbearing than most.

  Be that as it may, without them, I never would have been able to survive the divorce proceedings and restraining order fiasco on my own.

 “Mom!”

At a firm yank to my blouse I dropped my hands to stare down into the indignant face of my nine-year-old son, Archer. His arms were crossed, his eyes narrowed, lips turned down in a pout – obviously not a happy camper.

 “Were you even listening to me, Mom?” Archer demanded, his scowl deepening. “I was trying to explain to you why I need a dog, and – “

 “When did you get so tall, moroso?” I reached out and brushed back the dark, wavy hair from his forehead. “You’re almost as tall as me.”

   Archer flushed and he stared determinedly down at his sneakers, his chin jutting out. “You’re not that tall, Mom. And besides, I’m going to be ten next year. Of course I’m growing.”

 I fight back a groan. “Oddio. Don’t remind me.”

  I couldn’t believe my baby boy was growing up so fast. Time had seemed to inch by like a snail when I’d been trapped in an abusive marriage with a bastard for a husband, but when I’d finally managed to escape with Archer, everything was thrown into fast forward and hadn’t stopped since then. And it had been two years already.

 Next, Archer would be asking for money to go out with his friends or begging to get his license or bringing home a girl, and –

Good grief. I needed to get a grip. My boy was only nine, for Christ’s sake.

   Stop it, Regina, I silently ordered myself. Thinking about this gets you nowhere and you know it.

“Mom! Please, listen to me!”

  By a stroke of pure luck, I was saved from answering Archer by the sound of the bells attached to the coffee house’s front door ringing, signaling that someone had just walked in.

 “Be with you in a moment!” I called, then looked down at Archer, pulling a stern mothering expression. “Finish putting these glasses in the dishwasher and then go upstairs and do your homework.”

  I left the kitchen for the front counter.

  Today had been a rather slow day, even for a Tuesday, so we needed the business. Mama Rosa’s had been around for more than a hundred years, and we had regulars from before I was even born, but every business had their dry patches.

 This would have to be our worst dry patch ever.

   “Sorry about that,” I said, rounding the corner. “What can I – “

Oh my God.

 Oh my God.

  My voice died in my throat, a spark of warmth flashed through my stomach, and I think I went weak in the knees right on the spot.

  Standing in front of the counter had to be undeniably, unbelievably the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire life.  

  The man glanced over from the bulletin board beside the counter and gave a smoldering smile that really did make my mind go blank.

  He was tall, very tall, with kinky dark hair, a perfectly lean, toned body underneath his black coat, and a face even Adonis would be jealous of. He was honestly that handsome.

 “Ergh…” I sucked in a breath through my teeth, a fierce blush working its way into my cheeks. “I’m…”

 “Hi,” the man said, his voice deep and smooth.

 Oh, God.

 I was going to pass out.

 “Er… Sorry,” I managed to spit out. “I was in the back, and…”

 “Not a problem.”

The man smiled again, and my insides turned into hot mush.

 “What…W-What…” I cleared my throat, averted my eyes to anywhere but the man. There was absolutely no way I was going to be able to even function properly if he was going to look at me like that with those eyes of his. “What can I get you?”

“Hmm.” The man drummed his fingers on the counter, eyes scanning the multicolored chalkboard on the wall above the brewer and espresso machines that listed all of the drinks and food offered here. “What’s good? I’ve never been here before.”

 “Er, well…” I bit my lip, turned to stare up at the chalkboard, trying to get a grip on my wildly pounding heart. “It depends on what you prefer. I love the hazelnut espresso, but it’s a kick in the pants if you’re not used to so much caffeine.”

The man laughed, warm and rich, making my insides squirm again.

Jesus, you’d think I was a giddy schoolgirl, talking to a boy for the first time.

“I’ll have that, then,” the man said. “The Lord knows I need the caffeine.”

I could use a few shots of espresso myself right now, I thought as I quickly began to make the man’s drink.

  Under normal circumstances I could make an espresso in thirty seconds flat if I had to when we’re especially busy. I prided myself on that, because making coffee and complicated meals are about the only things I was good at.

   But I fumbled around more than once and small tremors kept passing through me when I felt the man’s heated gaze following me.

   I used to be glad that I inherited Italian good looks from both my parents.  My mother used to be a beauty in her day with thick, dark hair, long eyelashes and a smile that would knock even the strongest of men to their knees, but smoking like a chimney for the past twenty-five years and taking a dip too often into the alcohol cabinet had done a number on her.

  Even my father had still been good looking when he’d died of lung cancer seven years ago.

After my heinous relationship with Patrick, my self-confidence had been shot to hell. I didn’t know if it would ever recover from it, either. Most days it was a miracle if I could even look in a mirror without flinching or being overcome with the urge to chuck my hairbrush at the glass. The bruises and marks may have long since disappeared, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t see them.

  So what on earth would possess this man to look at me in such an intense…almost passionate way? Surely I wasn’t much to look at, and making an espresso wasn’t that interesting. I definitely had to be imagining it.

  Who was this man?

I poured the steaming espresso into a to-go cup and slid it across the counter to the man with a slightly shaking hand.

  He grabbed the cup and brought it up to his face, inhaling deeply. “Smells good.”

“Tastes even better,” I said, boasting my coffee making abilities for once.

 He grinned and took a sip, then gave a small moan that made a small tremor run through me.

 Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip, I silently sang at myself desperately.

 The last thing I needed was to turn into a pile of mush just because some incredibly attractive man happened to look at me for once.

 “Delicious,” he conceded, nodding. “Starbucks has nothing on this.”

“Damn right,” I scoffed. “Everybody knows Italians know how to make coffee the right way.”

He chuckled, grinning again. “Family recipe?”

 “My own recipe, actually.”

“Well,” the man said, looking surprised. “My compliments to…er…”

“Regina,” I said quickly.

“You make a mean espresso, Regina,” the man told me. “And I’m willing to bet those cherry Danishes taste just as well.”

I fought back a smile and snatched a cherry Danish from the pastry case, slipped it into a paper bag and handed it over to the man.

The man passed over a twenty before I could tell him his total, and said, “No change. Consider the difference a well-deserved tip.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Er…thank you…”

“I’m Chris, by the way,” he said, almost conversationally. “I – “

“Mom! Mom! I need your help! I can’t do fractions and you know it!” I heard thundering footsteps stomping across the tiled floor in the kitchen and then Archer burst out from the kitchen, homework papers clutched in his hand, a frazzled look on his face. “Mrs. Johansson is an idiot and – “

 Archer came to a sudden halt and stared at Chris with wide eyes, then to me, and then back to Chris again.

 “Who’re you?” he said bluntly. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“Archer!” I exclaimed. “You shouldn’t – “

“I’m Chris,” Chris said with a grin. “Who’re you?”

“Archer.”

  He was examining Chris with narrowed eyes, a speculative look on his face as if he were staring at some sort of interesting specimen.

 This was a definite warning sign.

Archer had no brain-to-mouth filter and often spoke without thinking things through first. Regrettably, he’d gotten himself into trouble more times than one in school. And at home.

 So the last thing I wanted was for him to say something that would mortify Chris and myself.

 “What were you saying, Archer?” I said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “You’re having trouble with homework?”

“Yeah,” Archer said, back to looking sullen again. “Fractions. I told you, I can’t do fractions, they’re too hard. I need help.”

 “Well, go upstairs, and wait for me. I’ll help you as soon as I can.”

Archer let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands in the air.

 “Mom, I’ll help you as soon as I can is, like, two hours in your time. It’s almost closing anyways and then you’re going to make me eat and then take a shower and then I’ll have to go to bed, which leaves me with no time to do these stupid fractions, and I – “

 “Let me take a look at it. I’m sure I can help you out.”

Both Archer and I stared at Chris with dumbfounded expressions.

A man who had only walked into the place for some coffee, who had given me a fifteen dollar tip, was now offering to help my son with his homework?

 No doubt about it, Regina, I said to myself. You’re definitely dreaming.

Talk about bad luck.

“That’s really okay,” I said to Chris. “Archer can just – “

 “Really.” Chris held up a hand to cut me off. “It’s not a problem.”

Archer stared up at me with a frown for a second and then shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

He walked around the front counter and Chris followed him to a square table with two chairs and then took a seat.

 “This is what I’m working on,” Archer said, shoving the paper across the table at Chris. “I can simplify fractions, just not multiply them.”

 Chris nodded his head in understanding. “Know what you mean, buddy. I’ve never been good at math, yet I was an engineer in the Army.”

I was shocked. Very shocked.

Chris had been an engineer in the Army. That was…certainly impressive. It took a special kind of person to go through schooling to become an engineer, let alone while in the Army the entire time as well.

“You were in the Army?” Archer said, eyebrows raised, excitement in his voice. “My zio Vito is in the Army.”

 “Is he now?” Chris grinned, his eyes bright. “Good man, then.”

I spoke up then, scolding Archer in Italian, telling him to stop bothering the poor man so he could leave.

Even if there was a part of myself that knew there was no way I would ever see a man as handsome as this Chris was ever again.

For a single twenty-seven-year-old, the thought was more than depressing.

“Vuoi calmati, mamma?” Archer shot me an almost pleading look. “Il ragazzo sta bene.”

Well, I couldn’t disagree. Chris seemed pretty cool, too.

“Uh.” Chris looked curiously between Archer and me. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, of course not,” I said, waiving an airy hand. “Thanks for helping my son with his homework.”

 Archer looked satisfied as Chris smiled at me, making my heart idiotically skip a beat.

“Not a problem.”

“Well…” I grabbed an apron out from underneath the front counter and started for the kitchen. “I’ll just be in the back, doing the dishes, then.”

 But Chris and Archer already had their heads together, talking back and forth, pencil moving across the paper.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

One of my biggest regrets was that Archer had never had a male figure to look up to in his life. His father was a deadbeat and gave little attention to him, if any, ever since was born. Sure, Chris was just a random stranger who had walked into the coffee house not five minutes ago, but call me cliché that I already felt as if there was something different about the man.

 What kind of person helped a barista’s son with fractions anyways? Not any person I knew.

In the kitchen I got to work rinsing out blenders and coffee cups and plates, stacking them in one of the dishwashers. I could hear Archer and Chris’s animated conversation floating in from the front as I worked, the occasional laugh that sounded like Archer’s.

 My heart was starting to warm in my chest.

I needed to give Chris another hazelnut espresso for free or something. Any man who could make my son laugh after so long needed to be given a gift of some sort.

 “Regina, my dear – would you mind explaining why there is a sex god out there helping your son with his homework?”

I let out a shriek and spun on my heel as my sister, Karin, walked into the kitchen, six-month-old Georgiana balanced on her hip.

 “Oddio.” I gasped, clutching at the counter. “Damn near gave me a heart attack, Karin.”

Karin smirked, the same mischief in her eyes that had been there ever since we were younger and she’d locked me in the hall closets or spit in my food.

  “Yeah, I’d have a heart attack too, looking at that man out there,” Karin said, nodding to the front. “Who is he?”

I made a loud shushing noise, flapping a hand. “God, Karin, shut your mouth! I don’t want them to hear us!”

  Karin rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Regina. You’re too uptight. A man like that knows he’s got the goods, if you know what I mean.”

 I felt my face burn red like a tomato.

Did big sisters ever learn not to antagonize their siblings or what?

“So,” Karin pressed when I went back to scrubbing one stubborn cookie tray. “Who is the guy?”

“I just know his name,” I muttered as I scrubbed. “Chris. That’s it.”

 “Chris,” Karin repeated. “Mm. I like it.”

 “Puttana, you’re married and you’ve got five kids.”

That comment might have been a little uncalled for, but it was always best to tell the truth, right?

“So?” Karin scoffed, shifting Georgiana on her hip. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look.”

 Judging by her tone, she had done a lot of looking on her way in here. But I could hardly blame her for that, however, when I had done my own fair share of looking, too.

I did my best to ignore Karin’s inane chattering as she rummaged around in the kitchen, Georgiana babbling away.

Thank God it was almost closing. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could have stand having a man like Chris just a few feet away in the next room without spontaneously combusting.

 Soon enough I’d be able to nip upstairs and make a quick dinner – just Archer and I (now Karin, too, I guessed) since Mom was in Jersey visiting with family – demand that Archer shower before bed and listen to all his complaints again, and then maybe I would be able to sit down and relax with a glass of wine, mull over what just happened.

 What girl wouldn’t fantasize just a little bit about an insanely attractive man they had just met?

I was placing a stack of clean plates back up into a cupboard and Karin was still blabbing away, now eating yogurt, when Archer practically burst into the kitchen.

 “Look at this, Mom!” he said excitedly, brandishing his homework paper at me. “Finished!”

“Hey, look at that,” I said, managing a smile as I ruffled his hair. “Good for you.”

 Archer looked immensely proud of his work, happy, and for that, I was grateful for whatever Chris had done to make him look so energetic.

 I couldn’t remember the last time Archer had smiled so much in one night.

“I think Chris was lying, he was way good at math,” Archer was saying. “Finished all of these problems pretty fast and then showed me this cool way to multiply.”

 “That’s great, Archer.”

Karin shot me a smug smile as she chucked the empty yogurt cup across the kitchen into the trash bin. The expression on her face said see? The guy is obviously a godsend.

“Oh, right.” Archer shoved a hand in his pocket and then thrust a folded up piece of paper at me. “Chris asked me to give this to you.”

 “What?”

Chris had left a note for me? Was I imagining this, too?

 I dried my hands off on my apron and shot Karin a frantic look before I took the note from Archer.

 I’d be happy to help you with your math homework any time, if you need it

-      Chris Morales

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