Page 1 of The Perfect Putt

Chapter one

Ellie Hart

I need this job, I need this job, I need this job. I repeat my chosen mantra over and over again as I make another latte for the customer waiting on the other side of the counter.

“What was it this time?” Molly murmurs as she pumps vanilla syrup into a cup next to me.

“Too much cinnamon,” I grumble under my breath.

“Didn’t he order a cinnamon sugar latte?” she asks. I clench my jaw and nod. She sighs. “Try not to bite his head off.”

I press the lid on top of the to-go cup, forgoing the cinnamon topping in hopes that will help my chances of not having to make a fourth drink. The first was too sweet. The second had too much cinnamon. Hopefully the third will be just right for this infuriating man.

“Here you go,” I say to the man with a smile that probably looks more like I’m baring my teeth.

“Finally. I’m going to be late for my tee time if I don’t leave right away,” he says while taking the cup from me. Of course, he plays golf. All the worst customers do.

Coastal Cove is home to the infamous Crescent Beach Country Club, one of the elite golf courses in the United States. People come from far and wide to play there or enjoy the spa and five-star restaurant attached to it. Those same people come into Coastal Coffee and look down their noses at me and my best friend Molly while we work.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” I grit out because I need this job. There aren’t any other ones in Coastal Cove, and I can’t afford my little cottage without it, much less my dream of opening a flower shop.

The ridiculous man in his traffic cone colored polo leaves without so much as a thank you. But I don’t even care, because he left. I walk back to the espresso machine with a sigh and start on the next drink. Molly works the register, while I make most of the drinks. Except during rush hours, then she hops in and helps me. I never work the register though. I’ve been told I don’t have a knack for customer service, but I don’t think that’s true. I simply prefer to tell people when they’re being unreasonable. When customers are nice, I’m a ray of sunshine, but when they’re the kind who talks on their phone instead of ordering or the kind who waits in line for twenty minutes only to get to the counter and not know what they want…the storm clouds roll in.

Molly, on the other hand, is always smiling and never cross. But that is probably because she wants to own this place one day, so she’s even more motivated than I am to do well. Once Mr. Wilkins the owner retires, Molly hopes to buy the place from him. She’s simultaneously hoping that her dedicated service to the café will make him lower the price.

“Have a nice day,” Molly says to the older woman she’s handing the frosted vanilla drink to. The woman gives her a wrinkled smile before walking out the door.

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. The morning rush is officially over, which means we have some time to breathe. At least until after school, when all the teenagers will crowd the shop and come close to breaking the fire code.

“It’s barely nine in the morning and I already want to leave,” I say.

Molly shoots me a sympathetic smile as she wipes down the countertop. “I know you hate it here.” Her gaze flicks up to me. After working together for almost two years now, I know she’s preparing to say more. I wait in silence for her to elaborate.

“I was talking to my friend, Jada,” she says, her eyes back on the counter. “Her husband, Fitz, mentioned that his boss needs a new assistant. The pay is great–way better than here–and the hours aren’t bad.”

“Really?”

Hope rises up within me. Working at Coastal Coffee isn’t ideal for many reasons, but a big one is how little I have left to save after all my expenses. If it wasn’t for my desire to be close to my sister Naomi and her son, Archie, I’d have left already. A job that pays more would mean I could put more back toward my flower shop.

“Where does he work?” I ask, clinging fiercely to the hope that I might be able to take a concrete step toward my own goals.

She scrubs the same spot on the counter. There’s nothing there.

“Is it outside of town?” I prod, my mood deflating.

“No, you’d have to travel occasionally, but it’s based here in Coastal Cove.”

I frown at her stilted tone. “Then why are you acting like you’re delivering terrible news? Do you not want me to go?” For the past two years, Molly has been supportive of my dreams and always makes me aware of new job opportunities. It doesn’t make sense for her to act this way now.

“Of course I want you to go.” She abandons her rag and looks up at me with a sheepish expression. “I just know that you’re going to refuse once you know who you’d be working for.”

“Who could be so terrible that I’d refuse better pay and the perfect location?”

“Miles Day.” I tilt my head to the side, not recognizing the name. “The golfer. He’s the youngest golfer to ever win the Masters and he grew up in Coastal Cove, which basically makes him a town hero.”

“A golfer,” I deadpan.

She nods. “I know you hate them, but–”

---