Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
For a while, anyway.
It got easier with time. After graduation, I left for New York City, Court left to play hockey somewhere, and I officially declared myself cured.
But he was back.
Not a big deal, of course. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard news of him visiting his family, who happened to own the bakery next door to Rise and Grind. It was just that our paths hadn’t crossed in years, which was kind of weird in a town as small as Elmwood.
I dried my hands, darting my gaze toward the window. “Stacy, love?”
“Yeah?”
“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is that really Court Henderson?”
Stacy Johnson-Jelenski was my best friend, business partner, and my official ride or die. According to our moms, we’d bonded over our curly hair at age three and had been inseparable ever since. We still had curly hair in common but absolutely nothing else looks-wise. Stacy was a petite redhead with fair skin and rosy apple cheeks—sweet as pie, but a real ballbuster if crossed.
And me? I was so average, it wasn’t funny.
Wait up—that came out wrong.
What I meant to say was…I was one thousand percent fabulous but rather nondescript in the looks department unless I added a bit of zhuzh of the gloss or eye shadow variety, which I rarely did during business hours. I was six feet tall and slender with blue eyes and a mop of brown hair I tamed with a pink bandana while on coffee duty. My mostly black wardrobe had been a constant since my preteens, as was the rainbow pin I fixed to my shirt or my apron, and well…that was it. Unremarkable, right?
But I was a helluva lot of fun and I could be charming as fuck, which came in handy when coaxing customers to try my latest and greatest caffeinated concoctions.
Stacy glanced up from the stack of holiday-themed eco-friendly cups she was unpacking and nodded. “Yep. Don’t tell me you hadn’t heard he was in town, Ive. Everyone’s been talking about it.”
“This is my first sighting,” I whispered, pulling up the order our teenage barista, Mazie, had handed over.
“He looks good enough to eat, doesn’t he?” she hummed in a low tone.
“Down, girl. You’re a married woman with a bun in the oven.” I pointed at my friend’s baby bump.
“So? I’m only stating the obvious. Remember when you had a crush on him in high school?”
“No,” I lied, stealing a quick peek at Court’s fine silhouette through the window.
I put the finishing touches on my latte art heart and slid the to-go drink to Barb Billings, pausing to ask after her cat, Simon, before bidding her adieu.
“Well, I remember,” Stacy chirped, bumping my hip as she untied her apron strings. “It was pretty adorable. Do you still think he’s cute?”
“Cute left the building a long time ago,” I commented, unthinking.
She hooted. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now scoot, girl. You’re going to be late for your doctor appointment.”
“Shoot. You’re right.” She grabbed her purse and typed a quick message on her cell, frowning a moment later. “Mom left me five texts asking me to work a shift at Bingo this Friday night. Bryson can’t make it.”
Oh. That sucked.
So it would be me and the middle-aged mamas again.
“Take your mom’s place at Bingo, Stace. It’ll be like the old days—me and you and some funky fresh fun on a Friday night, baby.” I did a corny disco move, spinning in a circle and ending with one hand on my hip and the other in the air.
Stacy chuckled. “Sorry, but I can’t. Dave and I are having dinner at C’est Bon Friday night. We’ve had those reservations for two months. I’m not missing that meal for Bingo.”
“Understandable.” I peeked at my watch. “Mazie? Are you interested in joining my Friday Bingo blockbuster night?”
Yeah, yeah. I knew the answer, but I couldn’t resist. Mazie was our resident Wednesday Addams—a goth girl with long raven braids, pale skin, purple eyeshadow, decked from head to toe in black…except for the emerald-green Rise and Grind apron around her waist. In other words, she was the female version of me seventeen years ago.
“That’s a very tempting offer, Mr. Carmelo, but I have plans Friday night,” she replied politely.
Ouch. I got Mr. Carmelo-ed. I shot a withering glare at Stacy, chuckling away as she fished her keys from her purse.
“I was joking,” I huffed.
“I know,” Mazie assured me in a comically monotone voice. “It’s almost four o’clock now. Did you want me to help tidy up or—”
“No, that’s okay. I got it. See you tomorrow, Maze.”
Stacy cocked her head curiously. “You sure you don’t mind closing alone?”
“Positive. Go on. I’ll be fine. I’m going to listen to murder podcasts while I scrub coffee mugs.”
“Have fun.” Stacy thanked Mazie when she held the front door open, turning back to whisper, “Court used to be on the Bingo crew. Why not ask him?”