You're All That I Want

For the 2020 Winter Holidays Contest. Please vote and comment.

"Time for the best part of my day," I whispered to myself, as I took a deep breath and opened the heavy door to the coffee shop. I'd been going to that coffee shop for six years since the first day it opened on the first floor of the office building where I worked.

It wasn't a chain, which made it all the more appealing to me, and it served a helluva cup of coffee. I was and still am an unashamed coffee addict, drinking three large black dark roasts every day by noon. I used to make a pot of coffee in my office once I got into work, but after he started I guess I became addicted to seeing him as much as I was to the coffee.

"Good Morning, Chelsea," the tall, broad-shouldered, young man said, with a panty wetting smile. "The usual?"

"Hi, Brett," I said trying not to stare into his ocean-deep blue eyes. "Yep, the usual."

"One large dark roast coming up."

He turned away to pour it, and I couldn't stop myself from staring at his perfect, tight butt. I shook off my lust as he turned back to me.

"$2.70," he said casually as if I didn't melt when he spoke to me.

I handed him a five and told him to keep the change. That only caused him to smile again, as he dropped the change into his tip jar.

"Thanks, Chelsea. Have a great day."

I smiled back and said, "You too, Brett." "Ugh! If he wasn't so damn young," I thought as I hurried away to make it up to work on time.

It's not that I couldn't be late, I owned the company after all. It's that I expected promptness from my staff and would not allow myself to be seen walking in late. I felt that left a horrible impression.

"Good Morning, Ms. Decker," Shandra my receptionist said with the false pleasantness I expected. She hated my guts but was amazing with our clients so I cut her some slack.

"Good Morning, Shandra," I answered without making eye contact. I would be damned if I was going to break first in our daily wrangle.

I opened my office door, closed it behind me, and took a few minutes to fantasize about Brett.

I don't know why I was so taken with him that he disrupted my thoughts. Well, that's not true - he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever met. He couldn't be more than twenty-one-years-old, way too young for my barely thirty, but he was wonderful eye candy.

His wavy mop of black hair was perfectly in need of a cut but it never seemed to be. He was the perfect height for my particular taste, at least 6' 3", and his hands were large and strong, with perfectly trimmed nails. I longed for them to touch every inch of my needy body.

I didn't know his last name, but he had an Irish look to my eyes. Much like my cousins from my mom's side, who were 100% Irish. My grandma Mary called their features "Black Irish," with them having dark hair and eyes. I guess it was a Spanish lineage or something. I never really cared for details that deep.

A knock at my door broke my reverie.

"Come in," I said snippily.

"Good Morning, Chelsea," my only real friend in the world said as she sashayed into my solitude.

"Hi, Jill. What's up?"

"Don't 'what's up' me. How'd he look today?"

She teased me mercilessly about my infatuation. Ever since we were in line together the first time I saw Brett and was tongue-tied. I'm never tongue-tied.

I rolled my eyes as I motioned for her to sit.

"Stunning, as always."

"Girl, you need to just grab him and make him yours for a night or three. How could he resist you?"

She was always pressing me to go after him, but I could never do it.

"You know he's too young for me. It would never work and I'm not a one-night stand kinda girl," I answered.

"Yeah, that's why you haven't been laid in what? Two years?"

"I'm not doing this again. I don't have time for a boyfriend."

"Come on, Chelsea. What's the harm in a little fun? You're a beautiful woman who is letting life and love pass you by. And for what? This place? You know it runs as tight as Brett's butt without you having to work twelve-hour days."

"My parents..."

"Your parents, what? They never wanted this kind of life for you. They never worked the hours you're putting in. Hell, they left every night at five on the dot holding hands and smiling."

That pissed me off. So she was there fifteen years ago when my parents started their little interior design company and she helped build it with them. That did not give her the right to tell me how to run it or what they would've wanted for me.

I peeked up and was about to lay into her when she continued. "Don't give me that look! This business was a business of love for them. Your mom wanted to design and your dad could find her the homes needing rooms for her to make her own. They were a team. He gave up his massively successful real estate empire to help make her dream come true."

I couldn't respond. I was frozen by the truth in her words.

"They didn't start this business so that they could be the number one interior design company in the world. All they wanted was to work together in the second thing that your mom always wanted to do."

She saw me look up, with a tear rolling down my cheek.

"You and Jo were always her their first and most important job. If they knew that you would end up thirty and alone because of this place, they would have closed its doors," she said with more anger than I think she intended.

She was, of course, correct. In the three years, I've been in charge, I've worked tirelessly to expand and get featured homes in magazines and movies. I didn't want to let them down. Yet, I could hear my mom's voice in my head still asking me when I would make her a grandmother.

Hell, she rated every one of my boyfriends on her fatherhood-readiness scale of one to ten. I'll never forget the Christmas before they died when she met Ashton.

I'd been dating Ashton for a few months when I brought him to our family Christmas dinner. She was playing the good hostess, but also giving him the usual possible future son-in-law grilling.

My sister Jo, brought a new guy she'd been seeing a few weeks to dinner as well. When my mother got up to start clearing dinner plates, her guy, Jeff, stood up and offered to help. Ashton, on the other hand merely took another drink of wine.

My mother smiled and patted his shoulder, before she said, "No, you're our guest. Have another drink. I've got it."

She looked at Jo with a smile and said, "Six and climbing."

Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head. She hated that stupid rating system also. Why couldn't we have a normal mother?

Then she looked at Ashton, sitting in his three-hundred dollar Yak wool sweater, with his seventy-five dollar haircut, who was reading the label on the bottle of wine with a badly hidden sneer, turned to me and said with a smirk, "two-minus."

My dad laughed and helped her carry some plates into the kitchen. If I'd only have known that would be our last meal together...

"Are you listening to me, Chelsea?" Jill asked breaking me away from my memories.

"Yes, I'm sorry," I said. "You're right. Mom would be pissed at me. Look, I promise I'll cut back. As for Brett, he's a dream lover. I could never get someone that hot, but I promise I'll take some time for dating."

She looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "I think that's silly. You're an amazing woman. A bit of a workaholic, but amazing. Take the kid for a ride. Have some fun and loosen up."

I smiled and she finished, "Although you might have to buy him his beer because he isn't old enough to drink yet."

She laughed and hurried out of my office as I threw a stress-ball at her.

**********

I was up early on an unseasonably warm Saturday morning for November, and I was headed to the office when I saw a young girl sitting at a table outside of the coffee shop. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen and flashed a bright smile as I walked by and into the shop.

Brett smiled and said, "Hi, Chelsea! The usual or are you gonna surprise me today?"

God, I loved his smile.

"The usual, please," I said. I desperately wanted to flirt with him, to let him know that I was interested, but I choked. I said goodbye as he thanked me for the tip.

"You like Brett, Huh?" I heard as I walked out of the shop.

"Excuse me?" I asked the young girl still sitting outside, who was sipping a cup of water.

"I saw you looking at him. You like Brett."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said annoyed with her gall.

"Look, I'm a fellow girl. I know how a girl looks at a boy when she likes him. You like him."

I was about to continue to argue, when she continued, "I'm Brianne. You can call me Bree," she said extending her hand. I shook it and felt compelled to sit down with her.

"Bree, why are you so interested?"

"Easy, I want you to ask my brother out. All he ever does is go to work and watch over me. He never goes out anymore. He likes you and I think he'd say yes. I think you have to ask him though.

Taken aback by the strangeness of what she was telling me, I stupidly asked, "Who is your brother and how do you know he likes me."

She rolled her eyes and groaned as if to show me how big of an idiot I am and then said, "Him, of course," pointing at Brett.

That surprised me. I had not considered that she was talking about Brett. I guess I was overly dense that day.

"You're joking?" I asked, certainly showing the shock that I felt.

"Nope. I want you to go out with him. He's freaking gorgeous, why would you say no? I mean, I swear I have friends that only hang out with me so they can spend more time with him."

I laughed, as she grew on me and asked, "How old are you?"

"Twelve."

I shook my head and thought about how much she reminded me of myself when I was her age.

"Well, Bree, you didn't say how you know he likes me."

"You're Chelsea right?"

"He's mentioned me?" I asked with surprise.

"No, he painted you."

"He what!" I shouted.

"He painted you." She fiddled with her phone and pulled up a picture. Handing the phone to me, she said, "Look!"

I gasped. He did paint me and it was beautiful. I had no idea that he was an artist.

"Oh, wow!" I said as she smiled.

"See, he's really good. He had a scholarship to some fancy Art School in Boston."

"I'm not surprised. This is beautiful," I said.

"It's a shame he didn't go. It's all my fault so now I'm helping him. Please ask him out."

I looked at her while texting myself the picture. She looked sad as if she were going to cry.

"What happened, Bree?"

"Our parents were in an accident. They were killed and Brett became my guardian. He canceled his plans for school and got the job working here. He also works on the phone at home selling stuff. He gave up his whole life to take care of me. All he does is work and take care of me. I hate it. I wish he would do something for himself just once."

She started crying and I moved over to hug her. As she sobbed into my shoulder, I looked into the shop. Brett looked sad as he filled the napkin holders on the counter. I'd never seen him without a huge smile, and it hit me right in the feels.

I pulled back and said, "I do like your brother, but I think I'm too old for him."

She was about to protest when I shushed her.

"I'll ask him out. If for no other reason than to get out myself, okay?"

She lit up with a huge smile. She looked just like him, and that made me smile as well.

I stood up, gave her the universal wait a minute sign holding up a finger, and walked into the shop.

"Back so soon?" Brett asked as he filled a basket with some creamer cups.

I steeled myself, smiled, and said, "Brett, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

A look of dread came over his face as if it were a shadow.

"Um, I'm sorry Chelsea. I don't have the time to do it."

"Really? You're so busy that you don't go out? What's so important tonight?"

He smiled and said, "My sister. I have to be home for her."

"Why? Is she special needs or something?"

He looked shocked at my question. "No, no. She's just too young to stay home alone."

"Get a babysitter."

"There's no one I trust. I just..."

"Fine. I'll be over at six and I'll make you both dinner. Dress sharp and pretend we're going out."

With that, I turned and walked out. As I passed by Bree, I said. "Done. Text me your address. My number is in your phone from sending the picture to myself."

She squealed, "Yes!," and pumped her fist and elbow like a pro tennis player.

I was so nervously excited about dinner, I didn't go to work.

********

I got a text from Bree with their address. She also texted that about two minutes after I left, Brett ran out looking for me. She said that he was freaked out about something but didn't tell her what. I figured that he had realized that he didn't give me his address or his phone number.

Bree texted me again a bit later that he was frantic about finding me. She said that it was cute how he was calling all of the businesses in the building asking for me. She said that she was playing it up trying to get him to tell her what he was doing. He still hadn't mentioned having a dinner guest as he made her clean the house.

*********

At 5:45 I pulled into their driveway. The house was modest, not too large, and nothing fancy but it seemed well-maintained. They lived in the same town as my parents had but in a less affluent neighborhood.

Bree texted me, as I walked up, that Brett hadn't left his room in over an hour. He never did find a way to get ahold of me. Then I saw the front door swing open and her run out to me.

She grabbed me in a huge hug, almost knocking the bags out of my hand.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she shrieked.

I laughed and said, "Well, let the fun begin. Shall we?" I stuck out my elbow and she grabbed it leading me into the house.

I was surprised at the cleanliness of the house. There was no clutter, nor dust. I guess I had expected two people so young to be a bit sloppier.

She led me into the kitchen and I set the bags down. I was glad that there was a lot of room to move around and I started prepping everything I needed. Bree was wonderful to help as we tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to ruin the surprise.

I'd brought everything we needed to make a lasagna and asked Bree to help make it. I expected that Brett would hear the commotion at some point, so we just got to work.

"Does he usually sulk in his bedroom like this?" I asked.

"No, he's usually painting or drawing in the back bedroom. It used to be his bedroom, but he set it up as a little studio to work in when he finally took over our parents' room a while after the accident."

I nodded and she asked for more noodles. As I handed some more to her I watched her carefully lay them out and top them with veggies, meat, and sauce.

"This is his favorite you know," she said.

"Is it?"

"Yep. You make it like my mom, except she always used sausage crumbles instead of ground turkey."

"My mom always used beef. I do like the sausage idea and we'll try it next time. I like turkey because it's healthier. We girls need to stay in shape right?" I asked.

She laughed and said, "You're so skinny. My mom would have said that you need to eat a cheeseburger."

That got me laughing and we continued until we finished. It took a while to get it all put together and into the oven, so we were both surprised that Brett never came out of his room.

It was 6:45 when we finally sat in the living room to wait for Brett. All of a sudden he shouted out from his room, "Hey, Bree! What do you want on your pizza?"

She smiled at me and shouted back, "We're not having pizza. We're having lasagna."

He walked into the room saying, "No way kiddo. I lost track of time and don't have time..."

He froze when he saw me sitting on the couch, with a glass of wine in my hand.

"I wondered when you were going to come out. If you're trying to be fashionably late, I think you took it a bit far," I said as Bree high-fived me.

"When... how... huh?" He stuttered.

Bree and I laughed and Bree said, "Dummy, we had this set up from the get-go. I talked to her this morning and we've been texting all day."

He smiled something more than his usual panty wetting smile and it made me shiver. I swear it was almost lust in his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'm under-dressed. I'll be right back," he said as he walked away.

"That was awesome!" Bree said. "I should've taken a picture of his face. That look was priceless."

We were back in the kitchen, where I was chopping veggies for the salad and she was spreading garlic butter onto the loaf of bread when we heard, "If I knew you could cook, Bree, I'd have had you doing it a long time ago."

I turned around and dropped the knife I was holding when I saw him. He was wearing black jeans with a crisp blue dress shirt under a gray sport coat. His hair was left damp and combed back, and he left his five-o'clock shadow. He didn't look like a twenty-one-year-old kid anymore. I was looking at a man.

"Wow, you look amazing," I said breathlessly as he bent down to pick up the knife.

He kissed my cheek and said, "Thanks, but you should be more careful. Dropping knives is dangerous."

I was still in my stupor, when he asked, "When do we eat?"

Bree said, ten minutes. The lasagna is resting and the garlic bread is going into the oven."

"Sounds good, can I help with anything? Can I get you a drink, Chelsea?" He asked.

I smiled and said, "Nope. We're all good. Have a seat and relax while I finish up the salad."

He saw the wine bottle on the counter and asked, "May I?"

"Of course," I said, "help yourself." He topped off my glass and poured one for himself.

He sat down at the kitchen table and asked, "So, this was all a big game for you two, huh? My sister sees a girl and makes her ask me out?"

"No, well kinda," Bree said sheepishly. "I saw the way she looked at you and recognized her from your painting. I could see that she liked you, so I just sort of introduced myself to her."

He jumped up from the chair, angrily and almost shouted, "You told her about the painting? Shit! Chelsea, I'm sorry. I'm not a creep. It's just you're so..."

"Easy, killer. It's okay, I loved it. I can't believe you did that from memory," I said trying to diffuse his anger.

He sat down and smiled, making me shiver again. He said, "I could never forget your face."

I kissed his cheek and said, "You're sweet. You have real talent, and I'd like to see more of your work if that's okay?"

"Maybe," he said. "I don't show them to anyone."

"That's a shame. You were good enough to get a scholarship, you shouldn't be embarrassed. You're very good," I said as he snapped his glare at Bree.

"So, Bree. What else have you told her?"

Bree glared back as only a defiant younger sister could do and said, "I told her that you are a jerk for giving up everything so you can be over-protective of me. That you sacrificed your soul so you could make sure I'm doing my homework or have a ride to my volleyball games. That you gave up your friends and job prospects so that I'll never feel alone and lost."

She ran out of the kitchen and slammed her bedroom door.

He stood up and said, "I'm sorry about that. I'll go talk with her."

"No, let me. We've been getting along well and she's not mad at you. She feels bad for what you had to give up. She blames herself."

"I know. This isn't the first time we've had some strong words over my choices. I had to do it though."

I touched his arm and said, "It'll be okay. Check the bread in two minutes. I'll be back."