Mission: Imbrewable – A Frothy Fiasco (The Coffee Loft Series: Mountain Brew Collection)

Mission: Imbrewable – A Frothy Fiasco (The Coffee Loft Series: Mountain Brew Collection)

By Leah Busboom

Chapter 1

Luke

“I need to tap into your mountaineering experience,” former general Winston Monroe says as I saunter into the Grayson Security office. After being on back-to-back security assignments, I don’t find this the happiest of greetings. In fact, my goal in coming to the office today was to ask for some much-needed vacation time. However, the lure of a job in the mountains intrigues me.

“My mountaineering skills are a little rusty,” I reply, unwilling to commit just yet. Although I grew up in the Colorado mountains, I haven’t hiked or camped in a long time.

My no-nonsense boss grunts and waves his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Once a mountain man, always a mountain man,” he scoffs.

Chuckling, I say, “What’s the assignment?” Perching precariously on the side of my boss’s desk I balance with my legs and hope not to fall from my uncomfortable position. Winston intentionally doesn’t have any chairs in this part of the office—except for the one he’s occupying—so people don’t stop to chitchat or dawdle. It’s always all business with the General. At least, when you’re in the office. The stories I’ve heard from some co-workers about his meddlesome matchmaking on the other hand... Well, let’s just say I’m glad I’m committed to the single lifestyle. All the traveling I have to do for work makes a relationship impossible anyway.

From his side of the desk, the General squints at the computer screen, his ever-present mug of coffee steaming beside his elbow. My mouth waters. Wish I’d stopped for a cappuccino on the way .

He tilts his head back and forth until his bifocals bring the screen into focus. “The National Park Service suspects a group are stealing a protected rare plant—Rocky Mountain alpine-parsley—from within Rocky Mountain National Park. They’ve asked me to provide someone who can blend in as a camper while uncovering and spying on the poachers’ activities. ”

My brows crease. “What’s so precious about parsley that someone wants to steal it? Is the RMNP park service really that worried about someone picking a few plants from inside their jurisdiction?” Sounds like the kind of crime not worthy of Grayson Security’s time or effort.

He grunts. “Apparently a major pharmaceutical company needs this rare plant for their latest cancer drug. A quarter ounce of alpine-parsley brings in $10,000.”

I whistle. “No kidding?”

“Nope. I’m as serious as a coffee lover with a bean grinder,” he says with a straight face.

I chuckle, knowing how the General loves his brew: he’s serious. He rattles off more background information as I contemplate taking the assignment. “...the park service takes it seriously when someone disturbs the mountain tundra’s fragile ecosystem. But they don’t have the manpower to catch the thieves in the act. That’s where we come in. ”

“So I’d pose as a camper and stake out the areas where parsley grows?”

“Alpine-parsley, yep. Get enough intel about the ring so law enforcement can come in and arrest them. You’re just there for surveillance and gathering evidence.”

RMNP is gorgeous with its spectacular range of mountain environments, from the meadows to glistening alpine lakes and up to towering mountain peaks. Camping, fishing, and relaxing in the fresh mountain air holds lots of appeal. Doing a little surveillance on the side won’t be too difficult..

“I’m in. When do I start?”

Thirty minutes later I’m booked on a red-eye flight to Denver the next morning.

~*~

After renting a Jeep and purchasing a tent and other camping gear, I head toward Estes Park, the gateway to RMNP. My mountain man skills need dusting off, but I’m excited to put them to use. I grew up in these mountains, and a feeling of happiness and comfort settles over me as I put the big city behind me. This is going to be a fun, relaxing week. Spy on the bad guys and gather intel while doing what I love—sleeping in the great outdoors, cooking over a campfire, and breathing fresh mountain air. The beautiful scenes all around me remind me that I’d forgotten all the things I love about this place. A bit of nostalgia hits when I spot a herd of elk grazing at the side of the highway.

My stomach reminds me that it’s time to eat as I slowly make my way down the main drag in the quaint little town of Estes Park. Walkers of all shapes, sizes, and ages fill the sidewalks. They’re probably all city dwellers here to view the stunning scenery and purchase tacky souvenirs to remind them of their trip.

Estes is your typical mountain tourist town surrounded by breathtaking views of the Rocky Mountains, a rapidly flowing creek, and shops selling everything from expensive outdoor gear to T-shirts with wacky sayings to delicious food. Gosh, I’ve missed this .

When I spy a coffee shop, I pull in to one of the few open parking slots. Desperately needing a shot of caffeine, I wander into the coffeehouse where tantalizing aromas of ground coffee, cinnamon, and baked goods fill my nostrils.

“Welcome to the Coffee Loft!” a pretty brunette says as I approach the order counter. She’s almost as tall as I am, so I can look her straight in the eye. A rare sensation at my stature.

Glancing at the menu, I say, “What’s your biggest size coffee?”

“The Lofty. Big enough to give you a jolt of caffeine guaranteed to keep you awake until the stars come out,” she says with a twinkling laugh.

“What’s your signature brew?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you a traditionalist or do you like a little flavor in your coffee?” she asks with a saucy grin.

My heart reacts to her flirting with an odd little flip. I haven’t felt an instant attraction like this to anyone, even my last girlfriend. I guess that was a sign I should have expected the break-up eight months ago when I went on an extended out-of-state assignment. Long distance relationships simply don’t work. I’ve seen it time and again in my colleague’s lives, so I don’t even know why I tried.

At any rate, flirting with this barista is a very bad idea.

Ignoring the warning from the logical side of my brain, I flirt back and say, “I like a little flavor in my girlfriends, but traditional black coffee in my cup.” When I wink at her she blushes. What am I doing?

“I love a traditional cup too!” Does that mean she likes a little flavor in her men? Her blush deepens, letting me know she had the same thought. She rushes to add, “So often the added cream and sugar just hide the unique flavor combination behind a really good brew.”

“Exactly!” I grin at her like a fool for a second. Quit flirting. Clearing my throat, I plaster on a neutral expression. “Do you have a brew that’s strong, has a robust flavor, and not too sweet? ”

“We have several ground blends, but my favorite is the Mountaineer. Fresh ground medium-roast Columbian beans with a juicy and nutty flavor profile. These beans are grown at an elevation of 65,000 feet. They take flavor to new heights!” She giggles at her own pun.

“Well, that sounds like exactly what I need since I’ve still got to locate and set up my campsite.”

“Where are you staying in the park?” she asks politely.

“Moraine Park campground,” I reply, seeing no reason not to tell her. Surely this gorgeous woman isn’t part of the parsley poachers.

“That’s a beautiful spot,” she says.

A loud growl emanates from my stomach, annoyed that I haven’t fed it yet. Her eyes go wide and her lips tip into a small grin, so I know she heard the beast.

I clear my throat. “How about a Lofty plain black Mountaineer with a couple of those glazed donuts? ”

“A batch of fresh donuts is coming out in five minutes. Go ahead and find a seat and I’ll bring your hot coffee and donuts out to you,” she says as she rings up my purchase.

After paying, I stroll over to a booth, and she disappears through a swinging stainless steel door that must lead to the kitchen. A local newspaper is lying on the table, so I pick it up and start reading. How quaint . It highlights activities in the area as well as lunch and dinner specials at local dining establishments. I note a couple dinner specials I might take advantage of when I need a break from camping food.

Crash! “Kaylee what have you done!” drifts through the closed door. The noise reverberates around the shop while the other patrons and I exchange concerned looks. Hopefully that wasn’t the fresh donuts that just hit the floor.

Not more than a minute later, the pretty brunette jogs out from the back, making a beeline for my table. Oh no, this can’t be good.

She wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet wearing a contrite expression. This woman is even more attractive than I first thought. Her curly brunette hair is confined to a ponytail, but the style highlights her emerald green eyes and the smattering of freckles across her nose. Even though she’s slim, she still fills out those blue jeans rather nicely.

“I’m terribly sorry, but the fresh donuts are not available at this time,” she says.

A laugh rips from my lips before I can stop it. It strikes me as hilarious that she didn’t just admit the donuts are ruined. Pulling her chain, I say, “When will they be available?”

“Um, well, we have another batch baking, but they won’t be available for thirty minutes. I’m terribly sorry... This usually doesn’t happen... Other than on my shift...” The last part is muttered under her breath, but I hear it.

Amused at her honesty, I hold up a hand to stem the flow of apologies and say, “No worries. Just bring me a couple donuts from the case along with my coffee.”

A smile splits her pretty face. “You bet! Coming right up.” She turns on her heel and almost takes out the ficus sitting in the corner. After doing a crazy dance with the fake potted plant, she rights it then she trots over to the order counter. I hold my breath as she retrieves the donuts from the case and carefully places them on a white ceramic plate using a pair of tongs. I let out a sigh of relief after the donuts are transferred safely and the plate is settled on the counter.

When she goes to return the tongs to the bakery case, they slip from her fingers. “Oh no!” she shrieks.

Ping! Ping! Ping! The tongs bounce across the floor, landing near the shoe of another patron waiting in line. He calmly picks them up and places them on the counter, as if this is an everyday occurrence. Another worker bustles over, swipes the tongs, then rushes off into the kitchen muttering something about health inspections.

My waitress also acts as barista, and I find myself again holding my breath, wondering what calamity can happen to my coffee. The brewing machine belches out my order into a nondescript white mug without mishap. The environmentalist in me appreciates the fact that they’re using reusable dishes rather than paper, plastic, or Styrofoam.

Concentrating intently, the barista/server places the mug and plate of donuts on a tray, which she hefts up to her shoulder before heading my way. Thankfully her path is clear of tripping hazards as she successfully navigates across the floor to my table.

“Sorry for the wait,” she says as she places the mug down with a thump! Some coffee sloshes over the side, making me wonder how recently she started working here. “Oh dear!” she murmurs, then grabs a napkin from the dispenser and wipes up the spill, all while continuing to precariously balance that tray on her shoulder. Sliding the plate of donuts from the tray, she adds it to the table with a flourish. In her rush, one of the donuts nearly topples off the dish, but I catch it and take a big bite, lest any more of my breakfast becomes inedible.

“I’ll bring you a refill,” she says, her lips wobbling while she nods towards my coffee .

“This is fine. That Lofty size mug should keep me plenty caffeinated,” I say with a flirty wink, hoping to make her feel better.

She blushes to her hairline, picks up the tray, and clunks it against the napkin dispenser. Clang!

This woman is a walking disaster.

Glancing at the nametag clipped to her chest so I can thank her properly, I bite my lip, suppressing another laugh when I read her name. I thought she might have been the recipient of the yelling earlier. Our eyes meet, and I suddenly wish I had more time to get to know her. Weird. This instant attraction is so out of character for me. But her awkward, bumbling service is strangely endearing. She’s as adorable as a newborn colt trying to use its legs for the first time.

“Thank you, Kaylee,” I say.

She nods, dodges the ficus, and strides away.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.