Page 2 of The Pumpkin Spice Cafe
‘I’m really sorry, I assumed you were a murderer. It’s nothing personal. I just haven’t slept in three nights, and something’s been making noise down here, I swear. And I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole café-inheritance thing.’
Logan stared at her, a hesitance still in his eyes. Crap. She’d probably already scared him. Jeanie had been called ‘intense’ on more than one occasion throughout her life. She was pretty sure it was even on a report card or two. It was something she was trying to work on, part of her new, Jeanie persona. Less talking. Less overthinking. Less intensity.
She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Café Jeanie was calm, chill. Just your friendly neighborhood coffee-shop owner, ready with a smile and your favorite drink. Not her theories on who or what was trying to kill her on any given day, or the latest in ice-cap-melting news, or the eighteen things she had to get done later today.
She tried to channel Aunt Dot’s free-spirit vibes even as she wished the woman had been slightly less laid-back and had actually left her more explicit directions. She attempted a gentler, sweeter smile. It felt strange on her face. ‘Please, come in. That must be so heavy.’
Logan gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. ‘I usually leave it out here.’
‘Oh.’ So it wasn’t her monologue scaring him away, she’d just interrupted his usual operating procedure. She understood very well how that could throw a person off. When her favorite coffee place on the corner was closed for a week, she could barely function. And it wasn’t for lack of caffeine. There was no shortage of coffee shops in the city, but none of them were hers. She’d been in a bad mood all week.
Her smile this time was genuine. ‘Well, you’re here now and I’m awake. How about a cup of coffee?’
ChapterTwo
Logan liked the new owner of the PS Café more when she wasn’t about to knock his head off with a baseball bat. But that wasn’t saying a whole lot. He had work to do, deliveries to make, and well-meaning townsfolk to avoid. He really didn’t have time to be sitting here having a predawn drink with her, but he didn’t seem to be able to escape. Or get a word in. Dot’s niece hadn’t stopped talking since she insisted he come in.
Every Thursday for the past five years, ever since he started managing the farm, he’d left Dot’s four crates of produce next to the back door. He liked being in town before the sun came up and the people came out. He liked getting his business done before any other businesses were open.
Logan wasn’t one for small talk. He hated speculating about the weather. He did not need to know about the latest town scandal. He liked being a part of the latest town scandal even less. So the quicker he was done with his deliveries, the sooner he could get back to the quiet of the farm. Or as quiet as a farm can be with half a dozen chickens, two senior goats, one rescue alpaca, and a grandmother who loved chatter. Thankfully, his grandfather was just as quiet as he was. His grandmother talked enough for the both of them. Almost as much as this Jeanie did.
‘So, what do you think my aunt intended to do with those ... uh, little pumpkins?’ she asked, glancing down at the crate he’d left by his feet. She stood behind the counter, a hand on her hip, the other swiping at the little wisps of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun.
‘Gourds,’ Logan corrected her from his spot on the other side of the counter.
‘Right. Gourds. I thought so.’ Jeanie still looked confused. ‘But ... you don’t eat them, right?’
He nearly laughed. Nearly. He was still too annoyed to laugh. ‘No, you don’t eat gourds.’
Jeanie’s gaze roamed over the other three crates that he’d carried in instead of leaving them in their rightful place near the door. The place he always left them. The place he wished he’d left them this morning. ‘I’m guessing the rest of it is for the smoothies she added to the menu.’
Logan nodded. This town loved their smoothies. Not that he was going to complain. Smoothies meant the café needed a lot of fresh fruit and veggies from his farm. Smoothies were good for business.
‘The gourds are just decorative,’ he said, saving both of them from more guesses.
Jeanie’s eyes lit up like he’d solved the world’s problems. He ignored how pride flared in his chest at the sight of her pleased face. It had been a while since he’d been able to solve anyone’s problems.
‘Of course! I really should have thought of that. It’s the lack of sleep!’
She rested her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands. She was wearing an old, oversized cardigan, the sleeves so long they covered her hands, over a threadbare T-shirt and pajama pants. He was pretty sure the pants had little hedgehogs all over them, but he’d tried very hard not to notice.
He was trying very hard not to notice a lot of things about Jeanie. Like how expressive her dark eyebrows were, and how she hadn’t stopped moving – making his coffee with quick efficient movements. She was a study in contradiction. Competent, but lost at the same time. Quick to smile, but also quick to frown, every emotion clear in her eyes. Dark brown eyes, nearly black, the same as his coffee order.
Jeanie rubbed a hand down her face, breaking the spell. How long had he been staring at her? She yawned and stretched her hands above her head. Her T-shirt lifted with her arms and Logan averted his gaze from the exposed slice of skin above her waistband. He was definitely not going to notice that.
When he dared to look at her again, she was back to leaning on her elbows on the counter. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, her black hair a messy nest on the top of her head. Her slumped, defeated posture tugged at something inside him. Something inconvenient. Something he did not have time for right now.
He opened his mouth to tell her he had to get going on his deliveries, but she was already talking again.
‘It’s just so weird. I keep hearing these sounds. Every night. Do you think maybe this place is haunted?’
Logan nearly choked on his coffee. ‘Haunted?’
‘Yeah.’ She straightened, her eyes brightening with her new theory. ‘Haunted. Like maybe the spirits who live here aren’t happy with the new owner.’
‘The spirits?’ It was too early in the morning for this level of insanity.
‘Ghost, spirits, whatever.’ Jeanie waved her hand like the semantics of the haunting didn’t matter. ‘Something is upset that I’m here.’
