Just a little ditty about where the story came from. I used to be a coffee girl in LA. I met many of stars during that time and with each chapter of the story I tell you about them and the type of customers they were. It's hard to believe it's been more than ten years and some of the details of the day to day are still pretty fresh in my mind, but I've met more than I can honestly remember.

To address the GR questions: This is mainly a fluffy romance. There will be small bits of angst but it's not drawn out…I'm an angst wimp, too. You'll have a little bit of everything, but overall it's just a good old fashion romance. Each chapter is approximately 2k without the AN's; obviously it shows as more words with them and this is the longest one I've ever planned. I've written most of the story out and my beta currently has chapter nine, so weekly updates are planned for every Friday. If she finishes betaing earlier, I will increase the updates to twice a week. I'm not holding them for reviews; just to make sure you all don't go without for too long because RL can get in the way for her.

As always thank you to Brie, Jen, Kelly, and Kim for encouraging me to keep going! They're awesome cheerleaders.

First up for my Hollywood dishing is John Ritter. He was quiet and polite—always got a Redeye with room (A drip coffee with a shot of espresso) and then sat down to read the newspaper each time he came in. I miss his talent.

Chapter One

It was still dark out when my alarm blared to life at four o'clock in the morning. I groaned as I rolled over to hit the snooze button. No matter how long I'd been waking up at that hour, I still didn't enjoy it. I fell back onto my pillow and stretched like a cat after being curled up in the same position for too long. Slowly I opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness. I didn't want to get out of bed after my late night of studying, but I did. I needed to make some money so I could eat this week—at least that was what I told my body when I climbed out of bed.

After the lukewarm shower I took to wake myself up, I tossed my long chestnut tresses up in a messy bun; my job required that hair always be pulled back while the employees schlepped coffee to the demanding patrons. The service industry was no joke. I donned a loose pair of black yoga pants and a black polo shirt, the approved uniform. I avoided the other approved colors, white and khaki, because no matter what I did, coffee stains never could be removed from those colors. Spills and accidents were a guarantee with the amount of liquids I handled on a daily basis.

Experience taught me that wearing any makeup beyond mascara and lip gloss was pointless when you got multiple facials from the steam wand on the espresso machine every time you steamed the milk. Comfortable shoes were also a must when your job required you to stand for hours on end, and my trusty Chucks fit the bill perfectly.

With my clean apron in hand, I hopped into my hand-me-down 1996 emerald green Honda Civic and made my fifteen minute commute from one side of the San Fernando Valley to the other where the coffeehouse was located. It didn't matter if the car had over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it, or that one of the fenders was primer gray, the little devil got me from point A to point B and served its purpose without making me worry.

The drive was quick and easy; I loved the opening shift because I never had to deal with the absurdly offensive traffic, not to mention the crazy lunatics who were always in a hurry to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 405 or the 101. It was a breezy, cool morning and I had the stereo blasting KIIS FM the whole way, bopping along to the top forties for the short ride.

I wasn't surprised to see I was the first one there, but thankfully as a shift supervisor I had a key, not to mention the extra buck an hour was really nice too. I quickly unlocked the door and ran to deactivate the alarm. I took a deep breath and inhaled the rich aroma from the coffee beans as I went to re-lock the door before I began the morning routine.

Once I had the money counted and the ambiance music started, I carried the tils out to the registers and began setting up the pastry case. I was pissed that Jessica, my co-worker who was supposed to be working with me, hadn't arrived yet, especially since we needed to open the doors in fifteen minutes. The morning really called for two people to get the day started. I hated having to rush through everything—there was a high chance for mistakes to occur, not to mention accidents. I started the grinders for the espresso and began brewing the double strength coffee for the iced coffee lovers. Once that was done, I started the pots of coffee and then filled the insulated creamer containers and set them on the condiment bar. I pulled the chocolate for the mochas and the blended drinks out of the fridge and placed them in their usual spots on the counters.

It was all busy work that I was doing, and I was fucking busy. I hated Jessica even more so now because this was the third time she had not shown up for a shift with me. She was just asking to be fired. Hopefully whoever took her position would be capable of showing up—even after a night of frat parties.

I was running on the coffee fumes since I hadn't yet been able to make my famous café au lait for myself. I placed a call into Angela, the store manager, and informed her of Jessica's absence. She told me she'd be in early so I wouldn't have to handle the morning rush by myself, and I was grateful. Some people who regularly came in were pissed when they had to wait longer than three minutes before they could consume their overpriced drinks...even if I made them perfectly on the first try.

With only a few minutes remaining, I tested the calibration of the espresso grind and made a couple of shots. I was ecstatic when they timed out perfectly the first time. Not wanting to be wasteful—and in dire need of a pick-me-up—I poured them into a cup, added a couple of pumps of vanilla and a bit of cold milk, and downed the drink in one gulp. Even with the added ingredients the richness of the coffee hit my palate in all the right places. It was bold but smooth and lingered in the back of my mouth. The drink was glorious, and I completely understood why everyone was irrationally obsessed with our coffee. It was just that delicious.

At five o'clock on the dot, I unlocked the doors and waited for the first person to come in and get their fix.

I was just steaming up the first pitcher of milk when my first customer walked in. Ben was a regular and Angela's husband. They were sticklers about the rules, so Ben always paid.

"Hey, Ben. You want your usual?" I asked before I looked down to watch the temperature of the milk on the thermometer rise. A boil over was the last thing I needed to deal with when I was alone; besides, the smell of burnt milk was disgusting.

"Hi, Bella. Yeah, I'll have my usual. Ang also asked me to let you know she'd be here in less than thirty minutes."

"Cool. Thanks for letting me know." I handed him his large Americano and then rang him up. He tossed his change in the tip jar, and I shook my head.

"I'd stay and keep you company until she arrives, but I have a huge presentation that I need to be ready for this morning." Ben was a really nice guy; Ang was lucky to have found such a supportive partner.

"Don't worry about it," I replied. They really were a sweet couple, so cute together. "I'll be fine for the next half hour. If it was after six and during the rush, then I would start to worry."

With one last wave, he was gone.

A couple of other early risers and a few regulars came and went. I was singing along with Adele when a throat cleared behind me and caused me to jump. My foot caught on one of the mats and I fell to the ground, shrieking the whole way down.

"Are you okay?" an intense baritone voice asked.

"Yeah," I laughed. "Happens to me all the time. Just another day in the life of a graceless swan."

Even though I could laugh at the situation I found myself in, I couldn't prevent the rush of blood to my skin when I looked up at the witness to my clumsiness. When our eyes met, I was lost. He was devastatingly handsome.

Mossy green eyes accompanied the sexiest voice I'd ever heard next to Vin Diesel's. That man's voice could melt the panties or boxers off anyone. I was confident of that. As I stood, I took in the rest of the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

Besides those gorgeous peepers that were encased by thick eyebrows, he had a jaw line that begged to be licked. It was covered with a couple of day's worth of whiskers that were a few shades lighter than his milk chocolate brows. His nose was crooked and had most likely been broken more than once, but it just added to his beauty. His lips were a natural and soft pink. They were plump and oh-so-kissable.

He was wearing an old and holey, but obviously loved, black t-shirt and a pair of wrinkled blue jeans. A baseball cap covered his unruly locks, and he was tall; taller than I expected him to be. But above all that, he was none other than Edward Cullen: actor extraordinaire and GQ's most eligible bachelor. Everyone and their grandma wanted to date him. The man was sex personified...and he had just witnessed me making a fool out of myself.

It wasn't like I even considered myself in his league. I wasn't ugly by any means; I considered myself to be pretty average. But I wasn't going to be walking the catwalk anytime. Like, ever. At just over five feet tall and add in my inability to walk a straight line, you would never see me on the runway, not that I wanted to be up there anyway.

After my blatant perusal of his body, I met his eyes again; the smirk on his face definitely didn't help the blush on my face lessen. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a large nonfat café au lait."

"Sure, no problem. That'll be $2.95." He handed me a twenty, and I immediately handed him the difference before I turned to get his coffee.

Once I had the cup half full, I topped it off with the hot milk and a dollop of my perfect foam. I loved making the foam. "Careful, it's hot," I informed him as I handed him his drink.

He took a sip anyway and moaned as he swallowed. "Damn, that's the best coffee I've ever had."

"Thanks, Edward." I beamed under his compliment. Sure, anyone who worked here could have made the drink just as well as I did, but I always did add a bit of love into every cup. People even said the care I took made the coffee taste that much better.

"You're more than welcome, coffee girl. I mean, Bella," he replied after he glanced down at my name tag.

I couldn't help watching his Adam's apple bob as he took another sip and swallowed. I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning out loud at the sight. I began to wonder if there was anything this man did that wasn't sexy.

I wasn't going to be one of those girls. You know, the ones who throw themselves at him in the hopes that he'll take them home and fuck them sixty-nine ways from Sunday. It probably would have been nice. Spectacular, even. But I didn't want to be a notch on his belt or bedpost or anywhere he kept track of the number of girls he bedded.

With a shake of my head to remove all the sexual thoughts I had about Sex-E, I went back to wiping down the counters. I could feel his eyes watching me work; they made the hair on my arms stand on end. I was a live wire of sexual energy with him there.

"So, are you new here?" he asked, still sipping away at the drink I'd made him.

It was the first time he'd ever come into the shop on one of my shifts, and I hadn't realized he was a regular to this place. "No, I've been working here for about three years now. My shifts always fluctuate with when I have classes, but I'm definitely not new."

"What are you studying?"

I stopped my incessant busy work to look at the handsome devil again and tried to ascertain why he was so interested in my life. He must really be a damn good actor because he gave nothing away with his facial expression.

"Music. With a minor in business." I kept my answers short and to the point. He wasn't getting into my pants that easy…no matter how much I wanted him there.

"Explains the voice." The fuck?

"Excuse me?" I snapped.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Dun, dun, dun. Are you mad at me? See you Friday for more adventures with our resident coffee girl. xx