It's Not About You Read Online Free PDF

hair, and wearing a teeshirt, denim jacket and jeans. He looked…damn hot.  
    "I never called you an old lady. I believe I said, older women. And I was giving you a compliment."  
    I don't know if I was just not in the mood, or I was frustrated because I knew someone my age would never know what it was like to have something like him hammering me. "Let me give you some words of wisdom. Never refer to any woman, be they maiden, mother or crone, as an older woman."  
    His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and he slowly nodded. "Advice heard and accepted—" he looked at my name tag. "Grace."  
    Oh no. What was his name again? I knew George had told me, but I couldn't remember it.  
    Eh…what did it matter? I pointed to the box of treats on the counter and gave him the same details of our arrangement with FAC worked while Debbie made his coffee.  
    "So," he held out his hand with his card in it. "I could still buy them at full price."  
    "Yes." I took his card but didn't run it through. "Did you want them?"  
    "How much total?"  
    I glanced at the treats. Added it up in my head. "Twenty-six —" and then I looked at the coffee in Debbie's hand. "No make that thirty-one and some odd change."  
    He leaned his head back as his brows knitted over his dazzling eyes. "You figured that up in your head?"
    "What? Older women can't add?"  
    "Okay." He leaned forward and braced himself against the counter with both hands and nodded to Debbie. "She totals all this up and if it's within five dollars, give or take, I buy all of it."  
    "And if it's not?"
    He smiled. "I get it half price."  
    I smiled back at him. "We don't bet here, Mr—"  
    "Oliver. Michael Oliver."  
    "Mr. Oliver. So will the coffee be all?" I rang it up and then looked at him.  
    I really didn't care how damn pretty he was. Not at that moment. I was tired. My back ached and my dawgs was a bark'n! I needed a bath and real food! I was just glad Flower was opening in the morning. I wanted to sleep in.  
    "I'll take it. All of it." He pointed to the box.
    I rang it all up and after tax, his bill was thirty-two dollars and seven cents. He gave me the biggest grin and it looked adorable on his face. I ran his card, it cleared and I handed it back to him just as he stuffed a twenty in the tip jar. "Oh… uh uh. No, Mr. Oliver—"  
    "No. It's okay." He held up his hand and took the box. Debbie had his coffee ready and he took it with his free hand. "It's my pleasure." Mr. Oliver turned and headed to the door which gave me a great shot of his butt.  
    Nice.  
    He turned and backed the door open and held up his coffee. "You have a good night, Grace."  
    When he was gone I opened the register and started counting the money. I'd done it twice when I realized Debbie was staring at me. I looked over at her. "What?"  
    "Garnish. I've never been garnish before."  
    I decided at that minute she had inhaled too many of the bolder coffee fumes. Grows hair in your nose. "Debbie—let's get finished and go home."  
    "You didn't see that, did you?"  
    "See what?"  
    "That guy! Pretty Eyes has been coming in here for like a year. George always flirts with him—swears his gaydar says straight—and no one ever sees him with a girl. Do you know him?"  
    "Ah," I said as I scribbled down the day's take-in after tallying three times, then slipped it into the deposit bag. I zipped it closed. "We met in line before I was hired. Called me an older woman."  
    "Maybe that's it." Debbie snapped her fingers. "Maybe he likes older women."  
    I laughed. Actually I snorted. It was a nice dream, but that kind of stuff only comes true in soap operas. But here in reality land—no. And given my profile in the polished chrome of the coffee makers…it didn't happen to me.  

Who ever invented phones should die.  
    I just wanted to get that out there. Really. Because when they ring at seven 'effing thirty in the morning, all I want to do is choke the life out of the person