Page 2 of Coffee Shop Girl
The first driver pulled up with an angry glare, and I clenched my teeth. Fantastic. Mrs. Jones, the wrathful old lady that the whole mountain town of Pineville feared.
“Good morning, Mrs. Jones,” I said with a forced smile.
“My coffee ready yet?”
“Brewing now!”
Her nostrils flared. “I’ve been in line for fifteen minutes.”
“I understand, and I apologize. I—”
“I didn’t give my order to you.”
“No, Anthony—”
“Did he quit? Is your business falling apart? You’ll never be your father, you know. You’re doomed to fail.”
My jaw tightened until I thought my teeth might break. Heart pounding, I let out a long breath. “The coffee will be another eight minutes.”
Ten, actually, but let her wait.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make it myself. It would probably be faster to harvest my own beans.”
With that, her ancient Cadillac window eased upward, then her car inched forward. I threw myself back into the shop, dumped the coffee out, and frantically poured water for a new pot. A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention as I reached for the last of the ground coffee beans.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the counter. Sooty hair, caramel eyes, a dark shadow of stubble on his face. He wore a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Underneath the thin white material, I could just make out a hint of tattoos on his left shoulder. The ink trailed to his elbow.
I swallowed hard, taken aback, and forced myself to look back at the coffee maker. The last thing I needed was a large, Viking distraction.
“Just a second,” I croaked.
He kept his eyes on the chalkboard overhead, which I doubted Anthony had updated with the flavor of the day.
Please don’t ask for amaretto,I thought.Please don’t ask for—
“Do you have amaretto?” he asked.
With a grimace, I said, “No, that was from yesterday, and we ran out. I believe today is ... peppermint?”
“Is that a question?”
“Everything is a question today,” I said with a sigh, then headed back to the window, my heels clicking against the floor. “Hold that thought, please.”
I arrived at the window just as another car drove through without stopping, the driver’s lips pressed into a thin line. Relief slid over me like cool water when a familiar SUV pulled up. Jada, a middle-aged woman I thought of more like a mother than a friend, peered out at me.
“Rough day?” she asked, lips parted in a dazzling smile. The woman always had perfect teeth set in her dark brown complexion. She’d lived in Thailand for six months doing humanitarian work as a doctor, and she’d still came back with her grin sparkling. She toyed with the end of a long, thick braid that rested on her shoulder.
I slumped against the window. “Anthony just quit, and everything is broken, including myself. In good news, I dreamed about Jason Momoa last night.”
She grinned. “That’ll offset any bad day. I’ll take my usual scone, then. Who needs coffee?”
My nose wrinkled. “No one. Gross. I can’t believe my dad made a living selling it. Scone is free of charge.” I grabbed one from a nearby shelf and shoved it at her without a bag. Then I flipped a light switch on the wall that turned off the OPEN sign out front.
“I’m late to see my patients,” she said with a wink as she threw a twenty into the shop. “Talk to you later.”
No other car came up behind her, so I spun around with a deep, bolstering breath. Time to tackle Mr. Viking, get himsomething, and send him on his way so I could officially close and take stock of this madness. This utter, chaotic disaster was drowning me in stress and debt, preventing all my professional advancement into the beautiful world of real estate.
Thanks, Dad.
