Page 44 of Sunkissed Colorado

ELEVEN

Callum

Piper lookedup from behind the counter, her blond hair escaping from its messy bun. “So youdostill live in Hart County. I was starting to wonder.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“Haven’t seen you since trivia night when the Lonely Harts club was all together. Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Just busy with work.” I rested my hands on the counter, perusing the chalkboard menu over Piper’s head.

Silver Linings Coffee occupied a cozy corner spot on Main Street, its large windows letting in streams of morning sunlight. The early rush had died down, leaving contented, busy customers scattered at tables with their laptops and books.

One side of the shop was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with well-loved paperbacks, their spines creating a rainbow of faded colors. And on an opposite wall, a handmade quilt hung above overstuffed chairs, making the place even more cozy.

“Did Hearthstone’s coffeemaker finally give up the ghost?” Piper asked. “Is that why you’re here? Desperation?”

“No. I was longing to see you because I’ve missed you so much.”

Piper snorted, wiping down the steam wand. “Okay.” She drew the word out. “What’s the real reason? You hardly ever come in here for your caffeine fix.”

“I just wanted something different this morning.”

“Alright, lay it on me. What can I get you?”

I glanced at the menu again. “Your pistachio latte is totally dairy free, right?”

Piper narrowed her eyes at me. “Yes. I make the pistachio milk in-house.”

“How do you milk a pistachio?”

“Are you trolling me, Cal? April Fool’s was months ago.”

“This is serious business. I’ll take a pistachio latte. Medium.” I studied the pastry case next. “And these gluten-free cinnamon-sugar muffins. Is your kitchen allergy friendly? No cross-contamination?”

Piper laughed, the sound echoing off the exposed brick walls. A few curious customers looked up. “You have new food allergies I’ve never heard about in the thirty-ish years I’ve known you?”

“Hey, you don’t know everything about me, Piper. I’ve got layers. Always something new to discover.”

“Layers,” she repeated, shaking her head with a grin. “Right. Well, Mr. Mysterious, your gluten-free needs are covered. I run a tight ship here.” She started pulling shots for the latte, the machine’s rhythmic grinding adding to the quiet hum of conversation in the space.

Today, each of the small wooden tables was decorated with a jar holding a wild sunflower. And for some reason, that reminded me of Zandra. Maybe the way those flowers grew in tangles along all the highways, resilient and impossible to keep down.

Over the last couple weeks, since we’d shared that pint of ice cream, Zandra and I had been getting into a groove. Working together at the brewpub had been a process of give and take, both of us learning the ins and outs of the general manager position while sharing responsibilities.

We’d had hiccups with a few suppliers, inventory to doublecheck, accounts to balance, orders to submit. Also fielding Manny’s nonstop texts asking for updates.

But it wasn’t just about understanding Hearthstone’s operations anymore. Zandra and I were getting to know each other, figuring out each other’s strengths and working styles.

Some days we clicked so well it felt effortless. Other days we butted heads over just about everything. Yet even our disagreements felt productive, like we were building something together. I liked to think so, anyway.

Once I got the general manager position, that solid foundation would only take me higher. Hopefully with Zandra sticking around, no hard feelings when I was her boss.

I was all about the optimism.

Last week, I’d brought almond and oat milk to add to the employee fridge at Hearthstone, and Zandra had been using it in her coffee. But I thought she’d like a fancy latte, and I’d noticed that Zandra was being super careful about spending money. So I figured I would treat her today.

But Piper was right that I hadn’t seen my family and friends much lately. Zandra and Hearthstone had been taking up not just my time, but my headspace.