by Andrea Cannon
She gazed after him every day as he left the coffee shop. Tall, dark hair, skin the color of ground walnuts, and he smelled oh-so-good. He never noticed Alice, not once in six weeks had he even looked her way. No. He was caught up in the barista’s net.
Megan wasn’t your typical forward thinking, hippie barista. Megan was the cheerleader type. Even her name tag was bedazzled. Alice glared at the back…