Page 1 of Tempt Our Fate

PIPPA

The most annoyingthing about men is they always assume that you actually give a damn what they’re talking about. I stand at the register, nodding to the customer on the other side of the counter in hopes that by pretending to care, he’ll order quicker.

His suit looks expensive, even if it is a little too large on him. Judging by his arrogance and the way he carries himself, coupled with the fact that this is a small town and I don’t recognize his face, my guess is that he isn’t from around here.

“It’s just, I think you should really consider sourcing your coffee beans from somewhere else,” he continues, pushing me past my breaking point.

I give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I don’t remember asking for your advice. Remind me what you’d like to order again?”

His mouth falls open in shock. “I know this amazing coffee shop in New York that—”

I clap my hands together. “Great, you can get your coffee from there, then!” I look around him, motioning for the next person in line. “Next,” I state, trying to get rid of the guy standing in front of me.

The dude in a suit narrows his bushy eyebrows. “Excuse me,” he argues, turning around to the customer behind him. “I’m not done ordering yet.”

I roll my eyes. We’re packed, and I’m down an employee today due to a stomach bug. The last thing I need is for some tourist to lecture me on where I get my beans from. I’m proud of the relationship I’ve built with my supplier. I’m not in the least bit interested in getting a new one.

My coffee shop and bakery are my pride and joy. Emphasis onmy. Wake and Bake is my baby. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this business, and I have no desire to let some stranger tell me how to run it.

My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath. Being rude to customers is not something I enjoy, but I’m tired, and there’s a line of people behind him that I need to attend to. Once I get the chance to step away from the register, I also need to put a new batch of cupcakes in the oven and begin prepping all of the pastries for tomorrow.

There are a thousand things on my to-do list, and none of them involve looking for new coffee beans.

“What can I get you?” I ask, my voice dejected.

His lips purse. I brace for him to bring up the topic again, but he doesn’t. “I’ll take a water, please.”

I fight the urge to tell him we have multiple water stations set up around the shop. At this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out of the line so I can help the next person. “One water. Got it. Name, please?”

“Peter.”

I nod, writing his name on the hot pink cup. “Peter,” I repeat. Helookslike a Peter.

I set his cup in the line of drinks that need to be made. I have one of my employees, Lexi, still here with me today, but she’s on lunch, so I’m left taking orders and making the drinks.

Time flies as we get through the afternoon rush of customers. Thankfully, Lexi knows what she’s doing, and upon her return, we were able to get through all of the orders in a somewhat timely manner. Wake and Bake has kind of taken off in the past few months, and I’ve been considering hiring a new employee or two, especially before ski season starts back up and thousands of tourists descend on Sutten Mountain for their winter vacations.

I’m glad it’s been busy recently. It helps dull the sting of losing my mom unexpectedly a few months ago. Losing her was the worst pain I’ve ever been through, and I handled her death the only way I knew how—by throwing myself into work.

I wipe my hands on my bright pink apron, the vibrant color the same as the far wall. “That was crazy.” I sigh, leaning against the counter to rest for a minute.

Lexi nods, pushing pieces of her red hair out of her face. “I think I blacked out. That waswaybusier than normal.”

“I wonder why,” I muse, taking a sip of my own iced coffee. The ice has melted, and it doesn’t taste as strong as when I first made it, but I need a coffee IV at this point to keep me on my feet, so I slurp it down anyway.

“Someone told me that there’s a large group of people in town looking at the Richardsons’ gallery next door.”

My heart sinks. “Looking at it?”

Lexi shrugs. “Since Barb passed, the space has been left vacant. With no one to run it, and apparently no one local renting it, I think it went to auction. At least that’s what my dad said.”

I stare at her for a few moments, wondering if Peter from earlier is part of that group. Why would people from New York be looking at the space? I’ve asked about renting the place for months to help expand Wake and Bake, and I’ve always been told it wasn’t for rent—or for sale.

I hum under my breath, annoyed. Typically, the Livingston Real Estate group handles all sales in Sutten, but for some reason, our entire block is owned by some other company from out of town. Maybe all along, that space was available; it just wasn’t an option forme.

Reaching underneath the counter, I pull out one of the pastry to-go boxes. I open it, laying out the classic pink doily we put on the bottom of each order.

“Do we still have catering orders?” Lexi asks, confused. There’s panic in her eyes. Probably because we’re just now dying down, and we’re both finally getting the opportunity to take a breath.

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