Chapter Five
Milo
“Oh shit, he’s here.” I squatted all the way to the ground, hiding behind the counter.
I’d woken up in the middle of the night, shocked that I wasn’t in my own bed.
Feeling like a complete idiot, I’d snuck out of Rowan’s hotel room and walked home at three in the morning.
After a shower and a few more hours of tossing and turning, I opened the coffee shop.
Now, Rowan was sitting in the armchair he’d clearly got used to, but instead of a crisp white shirt, he was wearing an even sexier black one.
He was taunting me and probably expecting an explanation.
“Who?” Sophia looked behind me. “Oh, the hot tourist.”
“He’s not a tourist, but yeah.” I banged the back of my head against the cabinet doors.
Sophia reached next to me for a set of bags and packed a slice of cake. “Here you go,” she said to the waiting customer.
Lorenzo, the other full-time employee, burst through the staff-only door behind us and shooed us away.
“I’ll take over. It’s mine and Sophia’s day today.” He plastered on his killer smile that complimented his slicked-back brown hair. With his cover-model looks and bubble butt, he should have been on a catwalk or in front of a camera, not waiting tables at a cafe.
I gave Sophia some hand signals I saw in a military show. Hopefully, she’d understand. She rolled her eyes and held the staff door in the back open for me. I crab-walked through it and collapsed on the ground next to industrial shelves holding bags of coffee and baking ingredients.
“Okay, spill.” Sophia put her hands on her hips. “What is it about this guy? Did he move here?”
“No, he’s here for work for the summer.” I raked my fingers through my hair, but an errant strand hit me in the forehead, anyway.
“So, kind of like a tourist.” She dismissed my explanation with a wave of her hand. “And he came over on a Saturday. So what did you do?”
I gasped. “Why?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting as if you owe him money, or you fucked him and ran.”
I groaned. “Worse.”
“I’m listening.”
“He invited me to his hotel room, and I fell asleep instantly.” I banged my forehead on my bent knees.
She let out a hearty laugh. “Wow.”
“I was tired.”
“I’m sure you were. But this one’s on you.” She flicked me on the shoulder. “He could have killed you, or worse. Just because he bought a coffee from us a few times doesn’t mean that you can trust him.”
“No shit. I have trouble sleeping sometimes, so I have no idea how that happened. A strange feeling of calm or peace or something came over me when I was there.”
Sophia kneeled next to me, her face serious. “Did he drug you?”
“No.” I scratched my head, recalling the evening. “I didn’t eat or drink anything after I left the cafe, not since lunchtime, actually.”
“Whatever. Don’t get killed. I need this job.” She stood up and offered me a hand. I took it and she pulled me up. “And you should probably eat like a human, not a baby bird. You can’t run on coffee and an occasional muffin.”
“I’ve been doing fine so far.”
She lifted her perfect eyebrows. “Oh really?”
“Shut up. I’ll go over and see if he’ll give me a chance to explain myself.”
“He’s a suit. Aren’t they all the same to some degree? Andrew’s law firm was around the corner too. And we all know how that guy turned out.”
Even though she had a point, I didn’t want to follow that logic. “Yeah but Rowan has a totally different vibe. Either way, it’s only a bit of fun. I’m not planning to marry him.”
“Sure, but you ended up dating Andrew for a year before you found out he was cheating on you.”
“Rowan is here until the end of summer, so I’m not in danger of doing anything stupid again.” I tightened my apron and checked if my name tag and Cryptid Alliance pin were in order.
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, boss.”
I showed her my tongue like a toddler, straightened my back, and looked through the tiny window in the door to the cafe floor. Rowan was sitting in the same armchair he’d occupied yesterday, tapping on his laptop while his coffee sat on the table next to him.
I took a deep breath, released it, and exited the kitchen area. Rowan spotted me walking his way, lifted his bushy eyebrows, and set his laptop aside.
I raised my hands in surrender. “Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for last night to end like it did.”
“That’s okay.” He settled back in the armchair. “You could have stayed until morning to get a good night’s sleep. I didn’t hear you leave, but you’re here now so I’m assuming you didn’t get much rest.”
I frowned. “What?” I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “You’re not mad that I fell asleep?”
“No. You must have needed it.” Rowan said it so matter-of-factly, I believed him.
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. My schedule allowed me a few hours of shut-eye a night, but between doing coursework until late and showing up early at work, I did not have a good track record with my sheets.
The recurring nightmares weren’t helping either.
But all of that was not Rowan’s problem.
I took in his exposed forearms covered in thick ginger hair, then looked back to his face.
He was smirking, having caught me staring.
My cheeks flushed, but that had never stopped me before. “Do you still want to go out with me?”
“Yes.” Rowan was looking at my lips as he licked his own. “But where? I’m not sure what this town has to offer besides great coffee.”
I stifled a grin. “Ice cream.” Going out for dinner would be too serious, and having tacos before a date might not be such a hot idea.
I went over my weekend plans, which included gardening with Ethel.
“Does tomorrow work for you? I could pick you up at four and we can walk to the park.” Too early in the day for it to be a date, but late enough not to have an awkward lunch and have food stuck in my teeth.
“Sounds good to me. But I can drive us.” Rowan gathered up his stuff and pulled to his feet.
“Nah. It’s close.” I followed his movement and ended up so close to him I could smell his cologne—a mix of leather and wood that invoked comfort. Goosebumps broke out on my skin, and I had to step aside to stop myself from reaching for him.
He met my gaze and brushed the back of his hand against mine. The hair there tickled my skin, and I inhaled a sharp breath.
“See you tomorrow,” Rowan said, and pulled away.
His long strides took him out of the shop quickly, but I still got a moment to admire how his pants hugged his round ass.
Initially, we were supposed to fool around, but I had to fuck that up.
Was a date a good idea? He’d be leaving soon, so feelings were not an option, anyway. Yeah, my heart was safe.
I returned to the kitchen and went through the stock there, then the fridges and staff room cupboards.
As I was ordering items we needed, two deliveries arrived with fresh pastries for lunchtime and bags of coffee beans from the local supplier.
Hopefully, the new flavor would work well with the drink I had in mind.
The bills were all paid, but the loan I’d taken to cover the necessary renovations of the cafe was weighing me down.
I’d inherited Anabelle’s half of the place, and Ethel had given me the right to decide over her half, but I refused her signing it off to my name.
She was alive and well, so she should keep the place she’d built with the love of her life.
The profit alongside her retirement pay covered her stay at the best care home in the area, but not any of her extra classes or medical expenses.
How was I supposed to cut costs at the cafe, but also make it bring more profit?
I set the paperwork aside and reached for a bag of pretzels. My hand scraped the bottom of the box. Fuck, we only had one more delivery scheduled for those. Unfortunately, the company that had been making the lovely goodies for us had gone bankrupt, so I was forced to look for a different supplier.
My childhood memories were full of the scent of fresh, soft pretzels my great-aunt Anabelle would make on Sundays at home. She’d also baked them for the diner, which was now the cafe, every Thursday. It had been the day’s special ever since I could remember.
What if I made soft pretzels for the cafe? Would Ethel know Anabelle’s recipe? I’d have to ask her.
With plans brewing in my head, I hopped on my bike and headed to see Ethel.
The late morning gardening with Ethel went by quickly, filled with giggles as she continued pranking her friends by hiding their tools, then cackling like a witch.
At family lunchtime, we sat at the small round table in the garden outside, and I poured her favorite jasmine tea into her teacup, then into mine.
The weather was stuffy; pleasant spring warmth was now on the way out, making room for the unbearable heat of our approaching summer.
We were surrounded by well-kept greenery and avenues of flowers planted around the expanse of the gardens.
Ethel’s contentment in this beautiful place was all the motivation I needed to do everything in my power to keep her happy here.
“Do you remember the pretzels Auntie Anabelle used to bake?” I asked, and took a bite of my sandwich.
“Of course. She made the house smell divine every Sunday.” The smile on Ethel’s face confirmed how vivid the memory still was, even if other ones sometimes faded away.
“I was thinking of trying to recreate them. Do you have the recipe?”
“Nope. I could never remember stuff like that.”
“Oh.” My heart sank, but Ethel smirked.
“That’s why I insisted she write all her favorite recipes in a notebook.” She added an ice cube to her tea from a bucket on the table. I had never interfered in her ways of consuming the beverage, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“You’re a genius.” I clapped my hands. “Any idea where it is?”
“Do you know that shelf with fashion books she collected? It’s somewhere between them. Pink cover with flowers on it.”
“I’ll look for it tonight. Thank you.” I kissed her cheek.
She patted my hair. “Bring me a sample to try, and I’ll judge whether it’s anything like Anna’s. Gods how I miss her.” She sighed, added a sugar cube to her tea, and stirred it, clanking the spoon loudly.
“Me too. So much.” I hugged her side. She smelled of the Cryptique perfume she’d been using since I was a kid, the elegant golden bottles always present on her dresser, next to her makeup brushes.
“But we’ve had our time together. Seventy-eight years to be exact. You won’t find your partner for life if you don’t open your heart and try.”
“I’m actually meeting up with someone tomorrow, if you must know.” I lifted my teacup and took a sip theatrically.
She gasped. “Who?”
“Just a guy who buys coffee at the shop.”
“How hot?”
“Very.”
“Well then, what the hell are you still doing here?” Ethel delivered a slew of tiny smacks on my forearm. “Shoo. You should be at home getting ready!” She shook her head. “Not sitting here with an old lady all day.”
I rolled my eyes. “I like spending time with you.”
She squeezed my cheeks in her hands. “You’re too cute for your own good. Go away. But tell me about him when you visit me next.” She released my face and booped my nose.
I grinned. “Okay. I have a test online on Monday, but I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
She waved me off and sipped her tea, grinning.
At home, I rummaged through the living room shelves, looking at old albums with photographs from my childhood, happy pics of Ethel and Anabelle, until I made myself put them away and switched to the fashion books.
Between the Alexandra DeQueen collection and Viv NorthWood stood a thick notebook with flowers on the cover. Bingo.
The first page said “Anabelle’s Pretzels (Ethel’s favorite)” at the top. With a squeal, I skipped to the kitchen.
I followed the recipe perfectly. Or so I thought. The countertops were a mess, but eight clumsily twisted pretzels were in the oven. Time to squeeze in a practice quiz before the next test.
I sat at the dining table with my laptop and pulled out the notepad with my scribbles for the course. The business parts were interesting, even fun, but the math classes were killing me. I yawned, but continued clicking through the numbers and solutions.
I was walking through a park with my parents, ice cream in one hand and a purple balloon in the other.
They were talking about a trip to an amusement park for my next birthday, just the three of us.
But I was an adult now, still clutching the string of a balloon, eating a hot dog, and holding someone’s hand.
I couldn’t see who it was, but their presence calmed me.
A loud screech sounded, and we all turned toward the direction of a car swerving through the flower gardens and nearing us at an alarming speed. The person holding my hand pulled me out of harm’s way, but it was too late for my parents.
A beeping sound penetrated my brain, and I mumbled into a hard surface under my cheek. Was something burning?
Pretzels!
Oh shit, I’d fallen asleep. I jumped to my feet, sending the chair I’d been sitting on toppling backward.
I ran to the kitchen, which now looked like a pub in the nineties—I could barely see through the smoke.
Patting my way in, I grabbed a towel and waved it close to the alarm on the ceiling, then pressed the button to turn it off.
Oops. I think I ruined the pretzels.
Author's notes:
I’m not projecting my own work anxiety at Milo! I swear. Okay, maybe a bit. I love my job, but the AI bullshit going on is stressing me the fuck out. Long story.