Page 3 of Scrape the Barrel
My eyes fell to the stain of coffee on his shirt and another curse rolled off my tongue. I tried to keep the swear words to a minimum around Avery, but today wasnotmy day.
Heaving a sigh, I stood again, taking the paper towels from his raised hand. I pressed my finger into the wad, the cut stinging slightly. “I appreciate you trying to help, but I assure you I can take care of it. You’re not supposed to be behind the counter anyway.”
His gaze darted to the door I’d come out of, then back to me. “I wasn’t sure if anyone was working here.”
“So your plan was to check in the back?” I asked, looking down at my finger to see how bad the cut was.
Thankfully, it didn’t look like it needed stitches.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Well, the door wouldn’t be unlocked if there wasn’t someone working here,” I said, hating the anger in my tone.
He slowly nodded, like he knew that.
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I blurted.
He looked down like he was just now realizing there was coffee on it. “No biggie.”
I turned to the sink, running my finger under the water. The bleeding was slowing, but I didn’t want coffee or other bacteria sitting in the wound.
“You can have a coffee on the house,” I said over my shoulder, my focus on my finger as I rinsed it clean.
When I didn’t get a response, I looked in his direction, but he wasn’t there.
My eyes raked over the rest of the cafe, but he was gone.
I shouldn’t have been so irritated with him. It truly wasn’t his fault. I was typically able to keep my calm, but after everything that had already happened today and it barely being nine a.m., my self control snapped.
“Mama, can I have a—”
“Avery, don’t come out here! I have to clean this glass,” I hurriedly said before she could slip out from behind the door. “I’ll let you know when you can come out.”
“Okay.” The door swung back shut.
My chest rose with the deep inhale I took in an attempt to calm myself even the slightest, placing both hands on the metal countertop beside the sink.
Only four more hours, and then I could go home and crawl under the soft covers of my bed before I had to do it all over again tomorrow.
2
Callan
“Just get a coffee at the cafe,” I muttered to myself as I headed toward my truck, repeating the words my brother had said to me over the phone only an hour ago. “It’s quick and easy.”
I had run out of coffee at home, which I never let happen, so I’d headed to my parents’ house at Bottom of the Buckle Ranch without it. Figuring I’d just pour myself a cup there, I’d come to find, to my utter disappointment, that their coffee machine broke this morning.
Go figure.
So I’d called Lennon, my oldest brother, and he’d suggested Bell Buckle Brews. I stayed the hell away from cafes because the coffee was too damn fancy. Americano, espresso, latte, cappuccino,a fucking puppacino. All I wanted was black. Plain black coffee. Not some fancy shit with foamed up milk and syrups.
I loved my mom and little sister, Lettie, but even their hazelnut and caramel creamers made my nose sting.
I’m all for sweets, but drinking it in the form of coffee? That’s where they lost me.
Today was the first and last day I’d braved the coffee shop. It wasn’t the woman’s—Sage, according to her nametag—fault, but I didn’t want to be bombarded by chaos before I’d had any sort of caffeine. Though, her green eyes had been bright enough to pull me out of my exhaustion for a moment, her soft, pink lips a distraction from the craving of rich coffee.
Regardless of that, by nature, I was the nicest out of my four siblings, but that was onlyaftercoffee.
