A/N: I borrowed a line from the Berena fandom because nothing else seemed to fit. I would apologise but if you haven't discovered Berena, do. You'll thank me later!
Chapter 1
At 5am on Monday morning Franky's alarm buzzed. She reached out sleepily and hit the snooze button. She rolled onto her back and groaned. Then stretched out and enjoyed the warmth of her bed before the mayhem of the day began. The alarm sounded again. Franky kicked the sheets off her and swung her legs over the side of the bed to rest on the wooden floorboards. She switched the alarm off and rubbed her face.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, grabbed a quick shower and dressed in dark blue jeans and a simple white crop top. She tied her dark hair back as she made her way downstairs to open-up The Java Parlour. She still thought of it as her Mother's. Every corner was chockfull with her, it filled Franky with warmth and the occasional pang. Since her Mother passed last year it had been hard. Especially for Tess. Franky had inherited the coffee shop and decided to keep it on. Some mornings Franky didn't know what she'd do if she didn't have the routine of The Java Parlour. It kept her sane. Gave her focus.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the shop, she flipped the lights on and the homely café flooded with light. The decor was warm colours, oversized comfortable furniture and paintings hanging on the walls drawn by her Mum. Vibrant watercolours of local areas she had loved.
Stifling a yawn Franky started-up the oven and switched on the coffee machine, which lurched and whirred into life. The stillness of the early hour was disrupted by the heady smell of fresh coffee.
Franky always opened-up. She liked the routine but it was also when she missed Tess the most. At The Java Parlour they freshly baked their own goods. She and Tess used to cook together and as she folds the flour, salt, sugar and yeast of the croissant mix in a ceramic bowl, she misses Tess's lively chatter. But Tess was grown-up now. Off at Uni, the world at her feet, her first serious boyfriend, a bright future ahead and Franky couldn't be more proud. She just wished their Mum could have lived to see what an amazing young woman Tess had become.
With the pastries in the oven, Franky unbolted the doors - French windows that opened out onto the street - and set-up the outside tables.
Boomer, her top barista (or Poseidon of the Pot as she was affectionately known by the staff) arrived. Grumbling about shit public transport. She put her things in the back, slipped on an apron, turned the radio on and began prepping the counter.
"Hey, is it true you can get preggers from spunk on your skirt?" she asked.
Franky was writing the specials on the menu board by the door. She stopped and glanced at Boomer over her shoulder. "Where'd you hear that?"
"Some chick on the bus was on her phone sayin' she gave her boyfriend a handjob, got his spunk on her skirt and was worried she'd get knocked-up cos of it."
Franky laughed. "Na, that's not how it works."
Boomer nodded and then returned to her chores, wiping the counter down and setting out the display pastries. A moment later she leaned on the counter. "Hey, can you get preggers from - "
"Booms, it's not even 8am. I can't be talkin' about reproductive organs and guys junk this early in the morning, alright? Have a coffee, take a chill pill and we'll talk about it later, alright?"
"Yeah, sure, sorry."
"No worries." Franky said and Boomer grinned back, then got stuck into the morning's tasks with a cheerful whistle.
The morning rush began and Franky had a smile on her lips, a cheeky remark on her tongue and a sparkle in her eye for every customer. The regulars loved it. Used to her sharp and racy wit, they sparred and flirted back as she brought a ray of sunshine into their day.
Franky was in full-charm mode when she saw her. Blonde, petite, intense and gorgeous. She's new; Franky would have remembered that face. The blonde is carrying a leather briefcase and wearing an elegant and tightly-fitting pinstriped skirt suit. Her hair was sculpted in a classy up-do. She's all seriousness and crisp lines. Franky gets the urge to grab her attention, wants to ruffle those perfectly fashioned edges.
As the blonde neared the front of the queue she gazed at the coffee menu on the blackboard behind the counter. Piercing blue eyes sifting through the options, her nose scrunched up in concentration and she bit her bottom lip unconsciously. The image flooded Franky's chest with warmth and set-off a low hum in her belly.
Franky turned her most disarming smile on the newcomer. Eyes twinkling. "Morning, what can I get you that's hot and strong?"
The woman blinked for a moment, the flirty insinuation not lost on her. She tilted her head inquisitively. "I'll have a large double shot full-fat cappuccino please."
"Oh, one of those days is it?" Franky asked sympathetically.
The blonde nodded. "Afraid so."
"Drink in or takeaway?"
"Takeaway please."
Franky picked up a pen and a takeaway cup. "What's your name?"
The blonde looked momentarily thrown.
"We write it on the cup. Helps avoid mixing-up orders," Franky explained.
"Bridget," the blonde replied.
She didn't look like a Bridget. It was far too conservative. Franky grinned as she scrawled a name across the cup, called out the order and handed the cup to Boomer.
Bridget ran her eyes along Franky's outstretched arm, noted the toned muscles and tattoos, and swallowed hard. She glanced at the name tag on the brunette's shirt. Franky. She wondered if it was short for Francesca or Frances.
Franky turned back to Bridget to catch her staring at her chest. "Anything else whet your appetite?" she teased.
Bridget blinked, her eyes shooting back up to Franky's face, a blush rising up her neck.
"We have a delectable selection of pastries," Franky suggested, somehow managing to make it sound indecent.
Bridget's tongue darted out and she licked her bottom lip nervously. Her eyes skimmed the mouth-watering display of freshly baked goods; mini lemon meringue cakes, salted caramel truffles, chocolate éclair's sprinkled with hazelnut, a pear and raspberry tart in a rich shortbread pastry with a shinny glaze, white chocolate cheese cake, croissants, an assortment of fruit danish pastries and lastly, she alighted on a basket of blueberry muffins. She seemed to mentally reprimand herself and shook her head gently. "Just the coffee please."
"You sure? You seem to be eyein' my muffins."
Bridget made a startled noise and Franky smirked. The blush on Bridget's cheeks deepened.
"Just the coffee," she said resolutely.
"Alright, if I can't tempt you… that will be $4 please."
Bridget pulled a $20 from her purse. As she handed it over her fingertips grazed Franky's palm and she felt a distinctive jolt, like electricity, shoot through her. She pulled back sharply but when she dared to look up, Franky's eyes were soft.
Franky gave Bridget her change. She slipped it in her purse and moved aside, out of the way of other customers queuing behind her.
Bridget stood at the other end of the counter, mind wondering. Franky. The name suited her; she had an edgy mischievous streak. Bridget imagined she was a lot of fun to hang out with. Didn't hurt that she was built like a Greek goddess. All muscles and curves. Bridget watched Franky interact with other customers. She was charismatic and clearly a serial flirt but she wasn't as full-on with them as she had been with Bridget. The blonde tried not to read too much into this. So a beautiful woman had flirted with her, so what? All it meant was that she'd been celibate too long and was reading too much into simple every-day interactions. She really needed to get a life.
Since her break-up with Michelle nearly a year ago she hadn't found time to meet anyone new or attempt the dating scene again. All her friends ribbed her about being married to her job and having a non-existent love life. Sister Bridget they called her and for her birthday they'd offered to buy her a lifetime supply of batteries for her vibrator.
Bridget shook her head. This is not what she should be thinking about right now. She had to focus. Today was important.
Today she was in court. An expert witness. It was a challenging case. Dawn Cooper stood accused of the murder of her twin brother, Jeremy, but in Bridget's opinion Dawn wasn't fit to stand trial. She'd had numerous violent incidents since she was a child proving she was unstable and in need of professional help. It was hard on the family – trying to make sense of Jeremy's brutal murder was bad enough, let alone when the crime was committed by a family member. Dawn's parents had taken sides. Her father supported her and her mother refused to see her. It was a heart-wrenching situation and the parents had separated amidst the strain and tension.
It was her job to convince the court that Dawn had not been in charge of her faculties at the time of the murder, otherwise Dawn would go to trial and Bridget would have failed her.
Today she had to be alert, had to be on the ball, had to -
"Gidget," someone called.
Bridget came crashing back to the present. Franky was holding a coffee cup out to her. The blonde's brow furrowed as she stepped forward to take it.
"Bridget," she corrected.
Franky flashed her a dazzling smile. "I prefer Gidget," she said playfully.
Bridget didn't know what to say to that so she simply took the cup. She was about to turn away when Franky waved a paper bag in front of her.
"Thought you might need it today. On the house," the brunette winked.
Stunned, Bridget took the bag. She glanced inside to see a blueberry muffin. She immediately broke into a broad grin and directed it towards Franky, who seemed to melt under its radiance.
"Thank you," she said softly. Because that simple gesture, that random act of kindness had turned her potentially awful day into a good one.
"Call it an incentive, to get you to come back," Franky said.
Bridget nodded and then stepped away. Franky's eyes followed the blonde as she walked out of the door and disappeared into the crowded street; then returned her attention to the queue.
"Hey Jeff, usual?" She asked the next customer.
He nodded groggily. He was unshaved, his clothes crumpled, bags under his eyes.
"How's the baby? Sleeping through the night yet?" Franky asked.
"Not yet. Better make it a double shot espresso if I'm gonna keep awake at the office!"
"Righto!" she chirped, causing Jeff to smile.
The day hurtled forward and Franky was swept-up in the bustle of coffee shop life but thoughts of the blonde with the luminous smile and intense gaze pestered her all day.