Page 12 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)
Beck
I still can’t decide if this was a good idea or not.
I’ve been shaking my leg under my desk, staring at sales reports that I’m not even reading, praying to every god out there that Hazel will show up today.
Logically, I know I shouldn’t be nervous.
She’s fresh out of a relationship and clearly not looking for anything.
Still, ignoring the chemistry between us and keeping my hands to myself is an active effort.
I am not going to be nervous .
This has been my mantra all morning. I am not going to hit on the recently single lady. The hot, sweet, sassy, recently single lady. Who I did not dream about last night. Not even a little.
And I did absolutely not wear the dark jeans that hug my ass, and I definitely didn’t iron my button-down short sleeve that I did not wear because I caught her drooling over my arms the other day.
Yeah, today might kill me.
“Hey, Beck!” Stella calls out, strolling into my office after a brief knock, blonde locks swishing behind her under her baseball cap, which she somehow managed to pair with bright green overalls .
I startle, jumping and banging my leg. She winces sympathetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I wanted to let you know that Roger called out sick again.”
“It’s fine, you didn’t scare me. I’m lost in my own head today,” I huff.
“Did he say what he was sick with?” I know I’m not allowed to ask outright, but Roger has a nasty habit of smoking too much weed and getting too ‘sick’ to come in for work.
Once he even showed up for one of the live bands, claiming he didn’t even know he was scheduled.
Frankly, I don’t feel like replacing him since he’s pretty good at what he does when he actually bothers to show up.
“I believe his exact words were, ‘Yeah man, I don’t know if I can make it, man. I’m like, so sick, you know?
’” Stella’s impression of him is surprisingly on point.
I’ve grown fond of Stella since hiring her.
She’s the first person I brought on board when I bought the place, and she consistently proves what a good choice it was.
She’s great with the customers, easy to get along with, and keeps making fresh baked goods for the café, which we sorely need.
Sheila’s old menu needs a serious overhaul.
She’s a bit of a free spirit though, always talking about travelling, making plans, and looking at travel videos on social media.
I can only hope she will make this her home base.
I’m certain that if she sticks around, she’s going to be one of the core people here.
She gets along with every single person she comes across; she can’t help it.
Unless that person is Roger. Him, she antagonizes constantly, which is a feat in and of itself seeing as they only cross paths during the half hour when the establishment closes to switch from the coffee shop to the bar setup.
“Well, that’s fucking annoying,” I sigh deeply.
“Do you think you can handle the switch on your own today? I’ll help as much as I can, and Nessa should be in later for the bar shift.
” It’s Tuesday, so she and I can probably handle it anyway.
We don’t have any bands or performers scheduled for tonight, so it’s probably going to be pretty chill, which sucks for me, since it means less revenue.
That being said, I might not mind only having one person tonight .
“Yeah, no worries!” Stella practically bounces out of the room. She doesn’t drink coffee, so I have no idea where she gets all her energy from. Probably from being eighteen instead of my nearly thirty years old, which isn’t that old. It feels old sometimes though.
“Oh! And before I forget, that woman from the other day is out front for you!” She ducks out the door towards the front before I can respond. I really wish she would have opened with that. My gut clenches as I stand up, smoothing my hair back into its bun and putting my glasses down on the desk.
Walking out to the front, trying to exude confidence, I see Hazel sitting in the same comfy chairs as last time, sipping the same cup of sugar she had ordered then.
I drink her in. She’s wearing a long-sleeve, plum-coloured V-neck dress that looks incredibly soft, and shows off her slim legs.
Her hair is gently braided into a single strand that falls over her shoulder that’s giving me the urge to pull it.
I approach her, holding out my hand, “Hi Hazel, good to see you!”
“Oh, hi Beck!” She licks whipped cream from her upper lip as she places her small hand in mine. Her skin is so soft, and she’s wearing delicate gold rings on her middle finger and thumb, which match her sparkly nail polish.
Holy crap, she has pretty hands , the strangest thought I’ve ever had rolls through my mind before I realize I’ve been staring at her hand for way too long.
When I glance back up to meet her gaze, she’s biting her bottom lip and wholly pink.
I quickly withdraw my hand, the ‘I’m a creep’ feeling only subsiding because she at least seems entertained by my embarrassment.
She manages to look beautiful even while mocking me.
But she came here to help, not to be ogled. I quickly pull myself together.
“I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve been trying to do my own research.
I somehow can’t seem to pull the trigger on anything, you know?
I want to make sure that this experience doesn’t feel like a money-grab, but a way of building our brand and widening our client base while also having some kind of signature.
I know that can come from the coffee itself, the roast, the flavours, but I want every part of it to contribute and feel genuine, you know?
” The words fall out on their own in a jumble, but she nods as she takes it all in.
“Yeah, I get that, and this place has so much character, you really want that to be consistent across the board.” She takes one last sip of her drink and stands up.
“Where do we want to work on this? It’s relatively quiet out here, although it is business, so maybe your office?
” My office is actually a little too small for the both of us, especially while I’m making a conscious effort to be a gentleman and stay out of her personal space. Mostly.
“Out here works great, we usually have a lull in the afternoon, so we should have some peace out here. Can I get you anything from the café while we work?” I love working in the café.
The walls are a soft green, and there are dark brown leather sofas and armchairs, as well as smaller tables scattered around the place, and booths along the wall across from the counter.
When we switch to the bar in the evening, all the tables get pushed to line the walls to make room for the live music events we host.
“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m grabbing dinner with Nessa and one of her coworkers after this, her name was… umm...” Hazel looks around anxiously, obviously having forgotten. A gentle blush graces the apples of her cheeks as she follows me to one of the tables that’s set to face the front window.
The view from here is my favourite. We’re on a quiet street that’s well taken care of.
The neighbouring businesses always put flowers out in the summer, making everything pretty and serene, the perfect place for a summer walk.
Now that fall has officially taken over, the tree-lined streets are still as colourful with their changing leaves.
It’s picturesque, part of the appeal of buying the business when I was first considering it.
We settle in and I hand her the folder of information that I compiled, and give her a quick rundown of what I want our coffee roasting side of the business to look like.
Ideally, it will save us money on sourcing beans and give us a unique edge on other local shops.
Hazel goes on about how these kinds of details and a subscription service build customer loyalty and bring in more people.
By the time she pauses for breath, I’m in awe of her.
An hour has passed, and I feel like I spent the entire time just soaking up her expertise as she drafts an outline of the roasting and distribution process and what a marketing strategy might look like.
I don’t know how I thought I could do this without someone of her skill set helping me, this is invaluable, and I’m paying her in coffee and wine.
Shit, I should actually get her on my team. Maybe once this creates new revenue, I can bring her on full time…
Everything feels easier with her, lighter, helping carry this load I’ve felt totally alone with for weeks now.
We’ve hopped back into some marketing schemes she has up her sleeve when a stick figure of a woman walks into the shop talking loudly on her speakerphone.
Her dark red hair is up in a too-tight coif, giving her face a pinched expression, and she’s wearing what I assume one might call a power suit.
She definitely thinks she’s important enough to be committing one of the cardinal sins of public decency.
Ugh, there is literally no one worse than people who talk on speakerphone in public, I think to myself, subtly tracking as she walks up to the counter.
She glances over at Hazel briefly on her way in, and the menacing smirk that follows puts me on edge.
Hazel hasn’t noticed her yet, too focused on the papers covering our table, and something deep down tells me that’s not going to last long.
“I know, it must be so embarrassing to not even realize, right?” stick lady fake whispers, as though the whole café can’t hear her. Hazel pauses, and her brow furrows as she hears the voice. “How oblivious can you be? It’s so sad, maybe she was desperate.”