Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
I’m behind the counter, right behind Millie, sick and tired of the men in this place watching a show that isn’t theirs. “Millicent, please get down from there.” I don’t use the word please very often. Since I’m already on her bad side, picking her up off the bar and placing her on her feet would only end in her yelling and screaming, a scene neither of us need.
“I’m almost done. This stupid thing. The grinds keep getting stuck. I think the blades need to be sharpened, which means I’ll have to wait on a freaking repairman.” My hands go to her hips, holding her steady as she wiggles down off the counter. The show she was unknowingly giving is over, thank Christ. I don’t breathe a sigh of relief until both of her feet are planted on the ground, my hands still on her curvaceous body.
“Are you okay?” Her signature hair style when she’s at work or relaxing after a shower is up in a bun. This time, it’s falling down more than usual, almost as if she’s been so busy today that it hasn’t occurred to her to adjust it like I know she does.
“Yes, no, maybe. This is getting annoying. I have no one but myself to rely on, and while that would be well and fine if I made an owner’s salary, I’m not. Plus, Bonnie, Chad, or Scott not responding is making me ready to pull my hair out.” There’s a forlorn look on her face, which has me thinking the worst. Did she already hear back from the bank? Is her dream going up in smokes? And if so, how can I make her dream a reality? I could offer her the money, but that won’t work. Millie would never accept. I could buy the building from the bank. Underhanded, but it’s a definite option. The place could go up for rent. The loan amount I saw on the application with what she’s putting down as a down payment, that is another idea.
“Sasha, do you mind if I steal Millie for a few minutes?” I ask the barista. The line has died down a lot. The lunch crowd is happy now that they have coffee, and them not sticking around to watch Millie’s shapely ass wiggling helps, too.
“Not at all.”
“Come on, sunshine.” I take her hand. She doesn’t pull away from me, a good point in my book seeing as how I fucked up royally only six hours ago.
“Ezra, we have to make this talk quick. I can’t leave Sasha up there with one espresso machine, try to get ahold of the owners, then call in an emergency repair order, and still do inventory.” Son of a bitch, Millie’s got shit piling up on her.
“You’ve been doing this forever. Take a deep breath,” I tell her once we’re in the small back office that also houses all of the inventory. It’s a tight fit. Most businesses are in this district, where the majority of the blueprint is being used for the store. The back is an afterthought.
“You’re right. Shit, I hate when you’re right.” I chuckle as she composes herself.
“Okay, you email the owners, then go back out front to help Sasha. I’ll call the repairman and do inventory.” Millie nods in response, already heading toward the desk chair. If I think what happened this morning isn’t bothering her, too, I’ll be sorely mistaken. I also know it’s coming. There’s a storm brewing, and it’s aimed right at me.
TEN
Millie
What a shit show, literally and figuratively. Even with Ezra’s help, it still took longer to place the order for restocking. The line finally died down, but where yesterday, we were hustling people in and out, today, it took a bit longer. A blessing in disguise. More books were sold while they were waiting on their coffee. The good news is, Ezra worked his magic, so someone is coming out for the espresso machine today. The bad news is, he won’t be able to get here till well past closing time. It put me in a bind, massively. Sasha left when her shift ended, leaving me on my own, well, minus Ezra, who somehow isn’t working today and has been here the entire time, giving me whiplash.
“Crap,” I grumble. Still no email from Bonnie or Chad. Scott isn’t answering anything either. Who the hell does this? Books and Brews is a business, not an outfit you wear once, throw in the laundry basket, and forget about until you get to it.
“Go to the bank. I’ll stay here. Justin, the repairman, probably won’t even arrive on time. You should be back before he gets here.” Ezra comes up behind me. I’ve got the deposit bag in front of me, my front leaning against the counter, holding steady with one foot planted on the ground and the other on the inside of my knee in a triangle pattern. I’ve done this since I was a little girl, balancing myself on one foot, except with the presence of the man behind me, the counter is helping me more than normal. Ezra’s thumbs and hands work magic along my neck, massaging the worry, stress, and annoyance away even though he’s part of the equation.