Page 8

M y alarm sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and I want to chuck my phone across the guest bedroom.

Excitement mixed with nervousness had rushed over me last night, forbidding sleep to come.

This job is important to me for entirely different reasons.

But negative scenarios kept running inside my head like a bad dream.

Thinking the worst is my downfall. What if I burn everything? Break something?

Ugh.

After showering, I change into a nice outfit, opting for sneakers which will be good for standing all day. I have a pretty good selection of outfits going on, considering I only made one stop to the thrift store in town.

After curling my hair and tossing it up, I quickly paint on light makeup, then head downstairs.

Lana sits with a congratulations balloon and a box of donuts. My heart warms. “Surprise. I know it’s kind of lame, but it’s a big day for you.”

I almost tear up. “You cannot make me cry on my first day. I’ll ruin my makeup.” I go over to the table and snatch a glazed donut.

“I’m so happy for you. And Shelby and Frank are the best people in town. They’ll take such good care of you.”

“Have I told you, you’re the best?”

“Maybe. But you can say it again. I don’t mind.” Lana smirks, handing me a travel mug filled with coffee.

“You know I’m going to work at a coffee shop, right? Where there’s coffee.”

“Oh my God. I’m sending you to work on your first day with an enemy. I suck.”

“I’ll be sure to let Folgers know.” We laugh, but before I head out, I ask, “How was last night?”

“It was perfect. Mark is great.” Lana grins, but something tells me it’s not one hundred percent authentic. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “The balloon was his idea. Which, I’ll admit, is sweet of him.”

Okay, that was nice.

“I’ll have to thank him next time I see him.”

“You can thank him tonight when you come out with us. No where crazy, just the town pub.” She flashes her whites.

I lean against the counter, taking a sip of the caffeine goodness. “I don’t know, Lana. I don’t want to intrude. Third wheel much?”

“No way. It wouldn’t be like that at all. Please say you’ll come.”

Of course, I want to hang out with Lana. I haven’t spent time with her in so long. Staying here meant socializing. With it being a small town, everyone seems to know each other’s business. I don’t want to be categorized as the new snob.

“Okay fine.”

“Yes! I can’t wait. It’s been tough around here. I’ve been so busy at the art studio I haven’t really had time for friends, but you’re here now and it’s going to be so much fun.” She hugs me, wishing me good luck.

I drain the rest of my unfinished coffee and head out, not wanting to show up late on my first day.

To say I’m overly confident is an understatement.

But even with the familiarity with the recipes, being in a new kitchen slowed me down.

Like hours. It’s now nine and I’m behind.

Way behind. My first batch of orange scones flew off the shelf.

Technically, the second batch, but the first batch was uneatable.

I loved Frank and Shelby already, but their oven is from the seventies.

It had to be, and the temperature is so wonky and difficult to work with.

I sigh, looking around for the extra flour. And… I can’t find it.

Shelby’s up front preparing an order of coffee, when I approach her.

“I think we’re out of flour.”

“Shoot. I was supposed to go a few days ago but I’ve had so much on my mind I must have forgotten.” She finishes the order she was working on, then gives it to the smiling customer. “I’ll run to the market and grab some. Just take over here.”

“I don’t mind going, so you can stay.”

“Alvin doesn’t take kindly to new faces. He’ll refuse to give you a discount and times are, well, a little tough.”

Damn. Tough crowd.

“But I don’t know how to work the register and I’m not sure how to make the orders.”

“No worries, darling. The register doesn’t work. Just write everything down in this book here.” She holds up a spiraled notebook. “Has all the drinks and how to make them.”

I blink in shock. “Um, Shelby, it might not be any of my business, but don’t you think it’d be a lot easier with a working register instead of writing everything down? Doesn’t that take a lot of your time?”

“Sadly, yes. But we can’t afford new equipment right now.” She pats my hand like always and rushes out, leaving me here while her husband is taking orders of his own.

Okay. I can do this. I’ve shaken my ass in the laps of dirty old men. Coffee is something I can make.

While I familiarize myself with the basics by flipping through the order book, my first customer arrives. Without looking up, I detect their presence and my skin turns hot, as if my body recognized the towering shadow.

Logan.

I haven’t been this close to him since offering my special brownies. Last night doesn't count because it was dark, and a railing separated us. From here, I can easily reach up and touch him. Not that I’m going to because that’s fucking weird.

I peer up at him, forgetting how to speak. He catches me off guard by being here. But wow, he looks good. He always looked good. He’s wearing his work shirt, which hugs his biceps, and a pair of Levi jeans. Simple. Basic. But somehow, he rocks it like a model. And that damn hat.

“Logan.” I nod, flashing a friendly smile. “What can I get ya?”

“Just a plain coffee. Cream. No sugar.”

Cream. No sugar… Cream.

I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat. I’m not a nervous person, but he makes me a mess. It's not what I'd call a crush but more of a physical attraction because a woman knows a sexy man when she sees him, and Logan is the definition.

“Got it. Coming right up.”

He reaches up, his hand inches from my face as I flinch in surprise. “You have something on your nose.”

Of course I did.

Mortified, I hurry to swipe it off. “Powdered sugar.”

The universe found its opportunity and ran with it.

I’m so happy he ordered nothing fancy, but then again, he doesn’t seem like someone who would order a special drink. I’d have immediately pegged him for the unembellished type.

As I’m pouring his cup, his stare burns into my back.

“It’s my first day. I’m not supposed to be up here, but Mrs. Stevens had to do a supply run, so I’m covering.

” I snap on the lid to his cup then set it on the counter.

“That’ll be a dollar fifty.” I check the sheet again to make sure I read it correctly. Shelby needs to charge more.

Logan clears his throat, taking his time to get out cash. “What do you do here?”

“I’m their new baker,” I say proudly.

“Seems fitting.” He holds my gaze.

I blush. Right the brownies. “It’s always been a hidden passion of mine.” And always will be.

“Hidden?” He cocks his brow.

I didn’t mean to say that.

Casually ignoring his question, I switch gears. “The orange scones are my deflowering pastry.” Note to self: refrain from using sexual words around him.

He places a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “You can add one to my order.”

He wants my scone.

I bag up the biggest one with a smile. “Here you go.” When I hand him the bag, our fingers touch and there’s instant fire.

He stares at me for a split second before grabbing his coffee. “Sora.” He nods, leaving the café but also sends my belly into a fit.

My name and how it rolls off his tongue is so smooth. Logan is not just a man. He is all man. And his voice is music for the soul. Deep, manly and vibrating through every part of me.

He may not be entirely fond of me, but he's easy on the eyes and he purchased my scone. He doesn’t have to like me, but that man can eat my desserts whenever he wants.

The rest of my shift went by fast. Shelby returned with the flour, saving the day, and I finally got into the groove of things.

The first day marked as a success.

The afternoon rush made my shift longer.

Shelby said it’s the busiest she’d seen at her café in literally years.

The mild confidence hadn’t gone unappreciated.

Endless delicious pastries? No problem. I heard Mr. Gaven, the banker, tell Miss Lucy, the librarian, my scones are over the moon to die for.

I held my head a little higher today.

I quickly change out of my uniform and slip into the shower. With no time to wash my hair, I tie it up in a bun and quickly scrub my body.

Lana texted me, saying to meet her and Mark at the pub since I didn’t get off on time.

A pub. It might sound absurd, but I’ve never been to one. I’m guessing it’s more casual than the private clubs I’ve been to. I hate thinking about them. Every memory makes my skin crawl, giving me a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I throw on another pair of tighter fitting jeans, short wedges, and a cute top that dips low at the cleavage. To avoid styling my hair, I shake my head upside down reviving the loose waves from earlier.

I swipe on some lip gloss, grab my keys and purse, and head out.

Let’s hope it’s a good night after a really good day.