Grant’s eyes are the color of espresso.

I noticed that while I was making him a macchiato this morning.

I’m glad he ordered a macchiato. I make killer cappuccinos, but when a man with eyes the color of espresso is standing in my lobby, I want to dazzle him … and as impressive as my cappuccinos are, they just don’t hold a candle to a shot of espresso with a delicate rosetta of milk floating on the top.

I’m amazed I could pour a rosetta at all with my hands shaking the whole time.

I have no idea why this man should have that effect on me. Gorgeous dark eyes aside, he really looks fairly ordinary: average height, toned-side-of-average build, average voice. (Well, maybe not totally average. He actually sounds sort of like Kevin Costner, which might explain some of the attraction: As far as I’m concerned, Bull Durham is the best baseball movie ever made, and I’ll stand on Robert Redford’s coffee table and say that. But I digress….)

Anyway, aside from those eyes, there’s nothing particularly striking about Grant. He’s kind to Joey, but so is Dr. Scherer. He’s great with Harvey, but so is Bill. You don’t see me mooning about after Bill or Dr. Scherer. Why should Grant be any different?

Maybe I can figure it out tomorrow. Grant has asked me to give him a guided tour of Sangre Mesa. I’ve only hiked it a couple of times myself, so I doubt I’ll be able to add much to the information on the trail markers, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. If I run out of geological details, I can always riff on the legend, I suppose.

— Sierra


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