Page 11 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

Gemma comes over to our table after greeting a few of the local patrons and topping off their coffee mugs. She gets out apad and pen, and clicking it on, she asks, “What can I get you, folks?”

Leo responds first. “Definitely the sweet potato hash and a glass of orange juice. Thank you.”

Her gaze flicks to my brother, who responds, “Cinnamon roll with cream cheese frosting for me and a coffee, black, please.”

Next, Paisley hums in agreement with my brother but says, “The rolls sound amazing, but I’m going to go with regular French toast and a coffee with cream.”

Lastly, her gaze meets mine, and with a big, cheesy grin that gets a chuckle from Kieran, I say, “The bacon waffle, please! Water is just fine, too. Thank you!”

Gemma smiles taking our menus, and as she turns, says, “Kyle will have this right up for you all. Breakfast has been coming out hot and fast this morning.”

As we wait, we go around the table exchanging design ideas for my living room. With Paisley being an architect, she keeps asking technical questions, and I have no idea how to respond. Leo knows the color palette I adore, as I've been sending him Pinterest ideas every day this last week.

I love the rustic cabin look. Leo says he has some ideas, but first he needs to see if the space speaks to him. I nod, figuring he knows better as an interior designer, as a room has never uttered a single word to me. Except for the one time the floorboard was loose on my stairway and creaked every time I stepped on it, but that just took a wood nail, and it shut right up.

Before we know it, plates of hot food are being placed in front of us. Gemma lets us know she will be coming back around in a few minutes to see if we need anything else. I pick up the maple syrup container and realize it’s warm maple syrup. My favorite. I drizzle it on in a lazy swirl until my waffle is basicallyfloating in sugary goodness, then pick up my fork and cut off the first bite.

I catch Kieran grinning at me from his spot against the wall, and I wiggle my eyebrows at him. Shaking his head, he wipes the piece of cream cheese frosting off his lower lip and asks, “Does it taste just like Grams used to make? I know this cinnamon roll tastes like Mom’s. I forgot to ask if it had nuts or raisins, but I am pleasantly surprised it has neither. I think the frosting even has a bit of maple syrup in it. I may need to make a batch of Mom’s cinnamon rolls next weekend just to be sure.”

Leo sighs in pleasure with his hash. I have to admit it looks really good. There are cubed sweet potatoes, thick pieces of bacon, and large chunks of bell peppers. It almost looks too pretty to eat. Paisley’s French toast looks good too. There was a light dusting of powdered sugar. Like me, she has added a generous pouring of maple syrup.

We finish our breakfast in respectable silence, and when the bill comes, I quickly slip my card in before anyone can object. This is my treat today. I’m just excited they came with me.

As we head toward the front, I wave to Gemma in thanks and spot Marge back up at the front. Stopping directly in front of her, I say, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Marge. I realize I didn’t introduce myself when you sat me. My name is Aislinn Braniff. I’m the new veterinarian in town, taking over for Doc MacAllen.”

Warm brown eyes slowly move from the accounting book she’s looking at to meet mine. A huge smile breaks across her face, and her eyes twinkle. She replies, “We are so excited to have you here. Doc was telling everyone he could what a sweet young lady you seemed. He is really looking forward to hanging his stethoscope up for good. I met Oliver yesterday. He got into town yesterday morning and came in for a meal. I think this town will suit you both nicely. I know Britt is excited. She istelling anyone who will listen how she will be working at the front desk in the vet clinic. She doesn’t seem to know much more than that, though.” She laughs. “But she is darn excited.”

She offers me a welcoming hug, which I return. I say, “I’m glad to be here too. This is exactly what I have been looking for, as the city life was just too stressful.”

With a pat on my arm, she gives me one last smile and brightly says, “Welcome, Aislinn. Stop by any time.”

We all say bye and usher ourselves out the door. Softly shutting it behind us, we look up and down the street.

Leo asks, “How come you didn’t get a decaf coffee in there?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I point across the street to Sleepy Mountain Roasters. A look of realization hits all three of my friends, and we quickly cross the little street. There are a lot of people out and about today, but it doesn’t feel crowded. The air is fresh, and the sky is bright blue with wisps of white clouds dancing beside the rising sun. No morning marine layer in sight.

The coffee shop smells heavenly. I pause just inside the door and inhale deeply through my nose, allowing my senses to take in every note. Letting my breath out slow and steady, I lazily open my eyes and take in the cute shop. It has half a dozen tables split between the two sides. The seats against the walls are high-back benches. Along the outer edge of the tables are backless benches, which are made from peeled logs. The barista counter is breathtaking. It seems they took one large cut of wood, approximately fifteen feet long and two inches thick, then did a bright blue resin pour to fill in all the uneven areas and knots. It gives the illusion of a running stream across the bar top.

I look over to see Paisley making similar observations. We smirk at each other, then continue to take in other aspects of theshop. The copper drop lights add a warm ambiance to the overall mood, and there is an old-fashioned cash register sitting next to two high-end espresso machines.

I glance around and catch my brother and Leo approaching a man an inch or so taller than them. He's casually dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans, a crisp flannel shirt, and Timberland boots. He looks right at home in Montana. They shake hands with broad smiles on their faces.

As I approach, my brother reaches for my arm, saying, “Aislinn, this here is my friend, Anders, who I was telling you about. He is the owner and roaster aficionado extraordinaire of this beautiful establishment. Anders, please meet my dear sister, who is gracing us with her residency after seven long years outside the state. She is the new town vet and a coffee enthusiast, having come from the Seattle area.”

I glance over at Paisley, who waves and smiles at Anders, clearly knowing him from Kalispell.

Trying not to laugh at my brother’s theatrics, I shake hands with Anders. He responds first, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you over the years. Kieran never told me you had a pair of heartbreakingly breathtaking eyes. He also forgot to mention that I have a special ability to know someone’s coffee order based on a handshake.”

I look at him skeptically, then shoot a glance at Leo. Leo has turned away since keeping a straight face is not his specialty, but my brother is stoic and trying his best to not lift the corner of his lips. This must be a joke, but I’m a good sport. “Why not?” I say smiling. “Alright, Anders, after shaking my hand, what is my favorite coffee drink?”

Like any good charlatan, Anders lifts his left hand up, placing the back of it against his forehead. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft hum. “Yes, yes, you drink only decaf. I’m seeingalternative milk as well. Okay, a decaf, oat milk latte.” He opens his eyes, and both Paisley and I stare at him in utter shock, jaws gaping.

“But how did you guess that, as my order is completely random? So few people only drink decaf,” I ramble.

Leo, Kieran, and Anders all burst out laughing, and Leo breaks first, saying, “Oh, Ais, your brother told him yesterday when he said we would probably stop by. We were making sure he was going to be here.” Shaking his head, he mutters, “You are so gullible.”

I quirk my lips to the side, refusing to laugh, but I don’t last long. Paisley and I lose it too. I’ve always been beyond gullible, even when I think I won't be tricked. My mom used to say, ‘Sweetheart, it’s a good thing you’re cute.’ Ugh, she was right.

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