Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Of all the ways John had pictured his first two days in Good Hope, standing behind a counter learning to steam milk hadn’t made the list.
Astrid rattled off the finer points of espresso extraction, as if delivering a State of the Union address, her hands a blur as she demonstrated the perfect foam.
John nodded, mostly to be polite, while a part of his brain tried to reconcile the fact that he was here—sleeves rolled up, bar towel slung over his shoulder—instead of in a strategy meeting mapping out a national expansion plan.
Still…he had to admit there was something oddly satisfying about the hum of the grinder, the rich smell of freshly ground beans, and the way customers greeted Astrid like she was an old friend. This was the kind of thing Zoe had talked about on their walk—community. Local flavor.
Not that she’d stuck around to see if he got it. She’d practically handed him off like a coat she didn’t want to hold.
He thought back to the bank, to the way her expression had tightened when her aunt and uncle greeted him like an old acquaintance. Subtle, but he’d caught it—she hadn’t expected that warmth. Interesting.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Astrid teased, sliding a cappuccino across the counter toward a waiting customer. “Around here, the only deep thoughts allowed are about coffee.”
John’s mouth tipped in a wry smile. “Good to know. I’ll try to adjust my thinking.”
Maybe starting behind the counter wasn’t such a bad way to get the lay of the land after all.
By the time Zoe had finished clearing the dinner dishes and brought her dad a fresh cup of tea, Ryder was settled in the recliner with his right leg propped on pillows, an ice pack strapped in place. The muted sports channel flickered across the TV screen, casting soft light over the room.
She lingered beside the chair, arms folded, watching him shift to get comfortable. He looked tired but in good spirits—too good, maybe, for her to feel justified in canceling her plans. Still, the thought of leaving left a knot in her chest.
“I’d rather just stay here with you tonight,” she said at last.
Before his injury, she’d been looking forward to an evening of darts with friends—maybe even one karaoke song if heavily pressured. But now, the idea of heading out while he sat here, bandaged and iced, felt wrong.
“Zoe, sweetheart, I appreciate your concern,” Ryder said, reaching for Trinity’s hand as she set a plate of cookies on the end table. “But you can see I’m in good hands.”
“Mom and I got this!” Raime, with nine years of enthusiasm, puffed out her chest like a pint-sized superhero.
Zoe bit back a smile. The kid, born long after their parents had thought they were done with diapers, was practically a carbon copy of her dad—dark hair, warm brown eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Except Raime was loud. Very, very loud.
Before Zoe could respond, Raime hurled herself toward her father in a flying leap, straight for his injured knee.
“Raime!” Zoe lunged forward, but her mom was faster.
With the practiced grace of a mother who’d saved countless juice cups from toppling and intercepted flying toys in midair, Trinity caught her daughter and spun her safely to the side. The save was so seamless, Ryder didn’t even flinch.
“You love your daddy,” Trinity murmured, brushing a stray lock of silky hair from Raime’s forehead. “And you’ve been such a good helper.”
Raime’s eyes shone with pride. Then, as if remembering her mission, she turned to Zoe with comedic determination. “I came straight home from school to help Daddy.”
“The whole family has stepped up,” Trinity said warmly. “I’m so proud of you all.”
Beside her, Ryder squeezed her hand. “We’re so proud. Three wonderful, giving kids.”
Just earlier, River had offered to cancel his date with Phoebe, but—like now with Zoe—Ryder and Trinity had reassured him everything was under control.
“If you’re sure—” Zoe began.
“We’re sure,” Raime cut in decisively. “We’re watching Incredibles IV. Daddy loves the Incredibles.”
Ryder nodded solemnly. “Haven’t seen this one yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be life-changing.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “You do know it’s a kids movie, right?”
Ryder gasped in mock outrage. “How dare you? The Incredibles are for all ages.”
Trinity laughed. “She’s not wrong, though. Last time we watched the first one, you quoted every line.”
Raime nodded vigorously. “He even does the voices.”
“I have range,” Ryder said with a grin.
Zoe sighed and rose from the arm of the chair. “Well, it’s clear you’re in good hands.”
“Before you go…” Ryder’s gaze held hers. “You haven’t said how it’s been.”
Zoe feigned confusion. “How what has been?”
“Working with John Logan. Honestly, my head was so muddled when I first read Sarah’s email that the name didn’t register. Then Greer called today and mentioned how nice it was seeing him again.”
“I’m sorry,” Trinity said, eyes searching Zoe’s. “Being surprised like that had to be difficult.”
“Not a big deal,” Zoe said evenly. “Besides, he’s been spending a lot of time with Astrid.”
Ryder’s brow furrowed. “Astrid? How is she involved?”
“You wanted him to understand the barista and sales side,” Zoe reminded him.
Her father paused, as if weighing his next words.
“Yes, I did say that. But John is here to help me take the Grind to the next level. He needs to see how our business is different from the larger national coffee chains that are already out there. That’s what I meant when I said I wanted him to understand.
Astrid is an excellent barista, but the big-picture stuff is not something she can do. ”
Ryder turned to Trinity and gave her a look that conveyed an unspoken message, the way only happily married couples could.
“Given the circumstances, it’s understandable if you’re having second thoughts about working with him,” Trinity said.
“I realize he’s here now, but we could push this expansion to next year,” Ryder added lightly. “No rule says we have to move forward immediately.”
“I can handle it,” Zoe said firmly.
“We know you can,” Trinity added, “but you don’t need to.”
“Zoe, if it’s too hard—”
Zoe lifted a hand, stopping him. “It’s not. I’m happy to do it. I plan to meet with John tomorrow morning to outline the next steps.”
Ryder smiled. “I have every confidence in you.”
Her chest warmed at the faith in his voice. “I’ve actually been enjoying dipping my toe into the coffee shop business.”
“Dipping your toe into coffee?” Raime wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”
Laughter rippled through the room. Zoe leaned down to kiss her father’s cheek, then caught her mother’s gaze. A silent promise passed between them—if anything changed, she’d call.
John shouldered the door shut behind him, the soft click of the lock sounding too final after a day filled with noise. His keys landed on the counter with a dull clink, followed by the scuff of shoes he couldn’t kick off fast enough.
Two days behind the counter at the Daily Grind, and his feet felt like he’d run a marathon on tile. Who knew pulling espresso shots, wiping tables, and answering a hundred variations of what’s your favorite drink? could leave a man more wrung out than a fourteen-hour day in a boardroom?
The sofa all but pulled him in, and he sank into the cushions with a groan. The faint hum of the refrigerator and the muted tick of the wall clock wrapped around him, pulling him into the kind of stillness he hadn’t had in months.
It had been nearly a year since he’d seen Zoe Goodhue. Back then, her voice had been warm, easy, full of the kind of happiness that came from believing you had your whole future mapped out. Now, it carried an edge. Cool. Controlled. Careful.
He blew out a slow breath, pushing to his feet. A hot shower might loosen the knots in his shoulders and scrub away the scent of coffee grounds clinging to his shirt. Maybe it would clear his head enough so he could think about the week ahead instead of the past.
He was just reaching for the bathroom light, right on the edge of letting himself think about how he really knew Zoe, when his phone buzzed.
His brother’s face filled the screen, his police uniform still crisp despite what John knew had to be a long shift.
Michael was sprawled in a chair that had once belonged to their parents, looking as relaxed as if he hadn’t just spent a full day keeping the residents of Marquette, Michigan, in line.
“You getting things done there?” Michael asked, taking a sip from a beer bottle.
John rubbed his jaw. “Well, I’ve mastered what my trainer calls the ‘basic five’—espresso, flat white, latte, cappuccino and long black.”
“What? Did you decide to take on a part-time job?”
“I guess you could say it’s all part of getting better acquainted with the business.” John grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator before heading for the sofa.
Michael smirked. “My brother, the barista. How far the mighty have fallen.”
“Go ahead, joke all you want,” John shot back, cracking open the can of Coke. “You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the Coffee King.”
Michael nearly choked on his drink. “Okay, Coffee King, it’s quiz time. What’s a long black, and how do you make it? No looking at your notes.”
John rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to look at my notes.”
“Still not hearing an answer,” Michael taunted, tapping his watch. “Ticktock, brother.”
John laughed. Some things never changed. “A long black is a classic for black-coffee lovers, which, as you know, includes us. You start with about six ounces of hot water, then carefully pour a double shot of espresso over the top.”
“And why do we pour it gently, Professor?”
John smirked. “To preserve the rich crema. Lowering the spouts close to the water keeps the drink smooth and bold.”
Michael let out a whistle. “Damn, you sound like a commercial.”
“They’re popular,” John admitted, still surprised by the cultlike devotion customers had to their specific coffee orders.