Page 1 of She’s Got that Spark

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EMMA

Fresh coffee is the best smell in the entire world. At least, I used to think so.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve discovered what’s even better: the scent of coffee when it’s combined with the aroma of oatmeal spiced muffins baking and the fresh mountain forest breeze whenever someone opens the door of the café. The coffee beans, spices, and pine together are glorious.

Can you tell I love my new job?

Wiping down the counter again, even though it’s already spotless, I look around and smile at the three middle-aged women sitting at the booth in front of the window, and the two older men playing cards in the back.

I think it’ll take a while for me really to learn the rhythm of Cedarville, but I’m starting to get the hang of it. Mondays are pretty sleepy. Tuesdays even more so. The rest of the week is steady without being too busy. Charming Café…yes, that’s its name…has the best coffee in town, and almost everyone passes through to say hello and grab their favorite morning brew.

It’s friendly and simple and wholesome – and, best of all, hundreds of miles from my bitchy, opinionated sisters.

Plus, everything is so much more affordable! I don’t have to work all the time to make ends meet: I can do a reasonable number of hours, and still have time and energy for a hike after work. At least, once my feet are used to it.

A large truck rumbles by and my eyes flick to the row of buildings across the street. The owners of the clothing store and hair salon I already know as they come here for coffee quite often. The unit on the end – a tattoo shop called “As The Crow Inks” – has been closed the entire time I’ve been working at the café, but I notice today that the lights are on again and there’s a black motorcycle out front.

My boss, Desire Charming (although I doubt either of those names is real) mentioned that the tattoo place always closed for a couple of weeks every summer. Maybe it’s the off season?

A timer goes off in the back. I can see why Desire usually has two people working at a time Wednesdays through Saturdays – it’s a juggling act to keep the baked goods coming out smoothly while you’re also working the counter.

I hurry back to the industrial stove, yank on some thick oven mitts, and open the door. I’ve learned the hard way to wait a few seconds for the blast wave of heat to clear before reaching in. Just as I’m easing the tray out, I jump when I hear the bell over the front door dingle, smacking the muffins against the top of the oven and possibly denting the ones in the back. Great.

Quickly setting the tray down, I dash back to the front…

And stop dead in my tracks.

The most gorgeous man in the entire world is smiling at me.

He looks…dramatic. Like a movie star. No, a movie star playing a rock star. His jet-black hair makes his dark brown eyes look nearly black as well. He’s very tall and beyond ripped, with layers of muscle along his wide shoulders and down his ink-swirled arms. The worn black jeans and black tank top are casual, and the leather studded wristband adds a hint of danger.

I’d bet my socks that the motorcycle across the street is his.

“Hey,” he drawls. My knees almost buckle when I hear how low and smoky his voice is. “You’re new.”

“Yeah. I just started here. I’m Emma.”

A grin lights up his eyes almost wickedly. “I’m Crow.”

“Crow?” I blink in surprise, nervously smoothing down my apron. Yikes, I hope that didn’t come out sounding too rude. “Well, at least now I know where the shop across the street got its name.”

He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Yeah. One of those things that cracked up my friends so hard I had to use it.”

“Makes sense.” I want to ask him about his name. His shop. Anything at all, just to keep him talking to me for as long as possible. Maybe try being professional. “What can I get you this morning?”

He lifts up the bright purple mug that he’d been holding at his side. Chunky white letters read:1) Fill With Coffee 2) Stand Back.

Laughing, I take the mug, rinsing it out with hot water. His eyebrows drift up. “You don’t think I washed it?”

“Oh, it looks clean. But if I warm it, your coffee will stay hot longer.”

His grin of approval sends tingles sparking up my spine. “Detail-oriented. I like that.”

I fill the mug with coffee, then hand it back. “Anything else? Muffin, scone, maybe a tart?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” He drops a five on the counter, flashing me a grin. “Maybe when I come back in an hour. My kettle broke, so I’m at your mercy for a few days.”

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