Page 1 of Promises on the Mountain

1

APRIL

Getting up at three thirty in the morning to start your day might sound crazy to most people, but I love it.

I love being showered and dressed and opening the cafe before the sun is even peaking over the mountain ridges to the east. I love the smell of fresh ground beans in the air while I watch the little mountain town wake up around me-- and I especially love that so many of them have begun to make me part of their morning routine.

Running my own coffee shop has been my dream since I was eight years old, the first time my aunt Jenny took me out for my first latte. Not that my mom was particularly thrilled with her sister for bringing me home spun up on espresso and sugar at that age, but I'll never forget watching the barista pull hand-packed shots from the ancient espresso machine with all the noise and steam of a Willie Wonka contraption.

It was magic.

I was hooked-- on coffee, and on the dream of owning my own cafe one day.

The mini blinds clatter as I pull the string to open them all the way up. I turn the hand-painted sign in the window around to show "open" to the outside world, and then I work my way through the small seating area, straightening chairs and the silk flower arrangement on each table while I wait for the people of Moonshine Ridge to start filing in.

It's only been a few weeks since I opened Mountain Mocha but things are going well. I've met a lot of good people, even made a couple of friends-- although, no one really close.

It's hard to get close to people these days. I tell myself it's the three-thirty a.m. alarm, or because I'm distracted with establishing the business, but the truth is that I turn down Terra and Zephyr's offers to hang out after work because I'm not ready yet.

The people here think I'm a normal girl, pursuing my dreams, filled with sunshine and optimism, and it's been so long since I was, I guess I just want to spend more time seeing myself through their eyes.

Real friendships mean letting people see who you really are. For now, I want to enjoy being the person they think I am. Someone a lot more like who I used to be.

Thinking about friendships has me wondering what things would be like now if Mia was still here.

We were going to do this together.

When we met, I'd been baristaing for two years already-- I'd begged Joy to hire me as soon as I was old enough to work for her.

Mia didn't drink coffee. She didn't even like the way it smelled. She hated working the opening shift, having to be up and faking perkiness at five a.m., but we hit it off and before I knew it, she was planning on opening the cafe with me.

The bells on the door jingle and the usual crew of guys head toward me, taking me out of my thoughts and giving me a reason to put a smile on my face.

"Tall oat milk cinnamon white mocha, right, Levi?" I confirm his order as he makes his way to the counter.

Levi smiles at me the way boys smile at girls as he nods in the affirmative.

"Oat milk? Really dude?" One of the guys teases his buddy.

"Shut the fuck up man, it's good that way."

These guys have become my regular morning crowd, a bunch of rough mountain men in their early twenties, sporting full beards, flannel, and boots. They're all handsome, tall, and jacked, jostling against each other and smiling at me while they do their best to flirt.

I'm guessing they don't see a lot of new faces up here, especially not single girls, but none of them do anything for me.

Honestly? I can't remember the last time I crushed on a guy. Probably back in high school, one of my dad's friends maybe, or that one hot history teacher I had my sophomore year. My crushes have always been older men and way off limits.

Probably why I got this far without doing much dating.

"What about you, Jake? Sticking with your usual or would you like to try something new today?"

Jake's cute. He's taller than his buddies but not as broad as Levi. He's asked me out a couple of times but I keep brushing him off.

"What do you recommend?" Jake braces his weight on the counter with one hand and leans over. He's definitely the fuck-boi of the three. He's smooth and confident and his smiles always start with his eyes. He probably knows a thing or two about showing a girl how things are done, but when I look at him, I can't see anything more than a customer.

"I've been experimenting with a maple sage thing," I tell him. He always takes whatever crazy thing I recommend, Jake's become my guinea pig for new drinks.

"Done." He slaps a bill on the counter and I know he doesn't want change. I say thanks as I slip it into the cash drawer and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me that I can look at those dimples and green eyes and feel nothing.

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