2. Reed
reed
Coffee buddy.
It’s pathetic, really. If Troy had asked me to do the coffee cart, I wouldn’t have thought twice about rejecting his plan and moving on with my day. I would already be in my Bronco on my way out to my cabin for the evening, all concert series and coffee shop spin-off concepts forgotten.
But Rose Rainey asks me to do something—anything—and I’m bound to say yes eventually. I never know if it’s because she had a genuinely good idea or if I’m just blinded by her big, blue eyes.
Who am I kidding? It’s always both.
Correction: I’m pathetic.
“You know,” she says as she wipes down the front counter, “if your concert plans go well, this could open up a whole world of opportunities for Perk Me Up.”
“Oh, so it’s my plan now?” I’m still standing behind the counter, doing nothing. I should be in the office at the very least, double checking supply orders. But here I am. For reasons I try not to look at too closely.
“Well.” She flashes a teasing smile that makes my gut twist. “It’s your plan if it’s a success. If in the extremely unlikely, infinitesimally remote event it doesn’t work out, I will take full responsibility.”
“You’re really falling on your sword over there.”
“But it’s obviously going to be a crazy success.”
“Mmm.” I go on watching her. That’s another thing about Rose. My staring never bothers her. Not that I’m trying to, but my silence usually makes people flinch. If anything, it makes her dig in her heels and shine even brighter. “You’re dying to tell me about the opportunities, aren’t you?”
Rose beams at me. Beams.
When I first interviewed her for the job, I assumed her friendliness was an act. A customer service routine she turned off when nobody was looking. Troy’s friendly, too, but even he hides behind fake smiles sometimes. But I’ve never seen an expression on Rose I didn’t think was genuine.
And for the record, I’ve watched her a lot.
“We could do a coffee cart at the farmer’s market.” She bounces on the balls of her feet like she’s itching to get started. “Christmas Festival. Fall Festival—all the festivals, really.”
“The shop’s already open for those.”
“The Christmas Festival doesn’t overlap with our hours. But you’re right about the rest.” She takes approximately three seconds to shake off my pessimism. “If it’s a big success, we’ll just have to hire more people for the coffee cart.”
This woman. Nothing gets her down. Not the most entitled tourist, not somebody with an axe to grind, not even when one of the machines breaks and I have to tinker with the insides, holding up lines and disappointing customers. She’s always got a smile, like she carries around her own sunshine.
“You sure are eager to spend the shop’s money,” I tell her.
She just grins. “If it’s a big success, we’ll have plenty to spare.”
Two small groups of people walk in at the same time, interrupting her grand plans. Rose greets them with the same warmth she gives everyone, like they’re the most important people in her world. I don’t think I truly knew what “welcoming someone in” meant until I met her.
Me? Most of the time, I acknowledge our customers just as much as I have to.
When I worked as a seasonal assistant park ranger, I didn’t have to play nice with people too often. I maintained trails, repaired park facilities and left the visitor interactions to the experts. Here, I have to muster up a nod, at least. If I’m in an especially chipper mood, I say “Hello.”
Technically, I know how to make our drinks. I refuse to be a clueless manager. But what I make versus something Rose makes is like the difference between having a glass of Coke at home and a glass of Coke in a restaurant. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s not the same.
She chats with the customers as she moves around the station, her skirt swooshing against my jeans as she passes. The dress code was the first thing to go when I took over the coffee shop. That and the hours. Five a.m. was an ungodly time to open.
But I’ve never liked being told what to wear and figured my coworkers should have the same courtesy. Rose mostly sticks to dresses and skirts, except on Mondays and Saturdays, when we get our heaviest traffic. Then she wears jeans, or maybe those slim pants that stop a few inches above the ankle.
Yeah. I sound like a creep who keeps track of what she wears in a notebook. Time for me to go.
“I’m heading in the back,” I mutter. The smile she sends my way hits me like a riptide. Except instead of dragging me out to sea, I’m ready to crash into her.
I rake my fingers through my hair as I stalk away, tugging the ends to try to straighten out my thoughts. I keep expecting this…whatever it is…she does to me to fade away. I’ll walk into work one day and feel normal about her again. Instead, it only seems to be getting worse.
The bell on the door chimes, and a woman walks in. Speaking of worse.
I walk faster, but Lucy’s already spotted me.
“Reed!” Her shout echoes so loud the coffee beans rattle.
I’m so close. Three more steps and I can lock myself in the office to escape my sister’s latest scheme. Unlike my unexpected soft spot for Rose, I’m not inclined to indulge in Lucy’s projects. Especially not when they involve me.
But I sigh and go back to where she waits for me at the counter. “You’d think a high school teacher would know better than to yell at people indoors.”
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
I stare her down, but just like Rose, Lucy doesn’t flinch. She knows me too well to take any of my silent threats seriously.
“So?” she prompts. “You obviously saw my texts. Who’s your pick?”
“I’m not doing this.”
She rolls her eyes and moves along the counter until she’s standing in front of the register. “Hi, Rose. Can I get a…ooh, I’ll take an iced strawberry matcha.”
Rose starts making Lucy’s drink, moving smoothly around the station. Lucy watches her for a few seconds, but then her eyes light up. “Hey. Let’s get your opinion. Who should Reed ask out?”
My stomach turns to steel, but she goes on yapping. At least the other customers are having their own conversations at tables by the windows and probably aren’t paying attention to this, but Rose is the last person I want Lucy to loop into her flight of fancy.
“I’m trying to pair him off with one of my coworkers, but he won’t choose.
” She leans her elbows on the counter to show Rose something on her phone.
Probably the pictures she texted me days ago.
“Ally. She teaches chemistry. Into cosplay and gaming. Or Penny. She’s the new P.E.
teacher and softball coach. She’s into hiking and memoirs. ”
Rose pauses what she’s doing to inspect the photos. “Both are super cute.”
“I know, right? But he hasn’t made a decision. He won’t even tell me if he prefers blondes or brunettes.” Lucy tucks her phone away. “I guess I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”
She steeples her fingers and taps them together like a cartoon villain. Lucy might look like a petite little cherub, but she can be pure evil sometimes.
I shift closer to Rose, my arms crossed as I stare at my sister. “One of our other brothers would be a better choice for this.”
I might feel bad about siccing her on them if I thought there was any hope she’d change course. For reasons of her own, she’s decided I’m her summer project.
Lucy makes a face. “Luke isn’t looking—”
“I’m not looking, either.”
Feels odd to say standing this close to the woman I regularly look at, but it’s technically true. I wrecked the last relationship I had, and I’m not idealistic enough to think I’ve changed much since then.
She ignores me, naturally. “Graham works at the high school, obviously, so that’s out. You know how complicated dating coworkers would be.”
I don’t let my gaze fall on Rose, but I eat her up in my peripheral vision. Yeah. I can guess how complicated that would be.
“Nathan would jump at the set up.” Literally and figuratively.
“Exactly. Too eager. But you?” Her eyes narrow as she looks me up and down, lingering on my untucked T-shirt and old flannel shirt beneath my apron. “You need it.”
Rose hands Lucy her frothy drink layered in pink and green. Lucy taps her card but doesn’t leave like a normal person would. Oh, no. She’s just getting started.
“Don’t you think he needs a girlfriend?” she asks Rose before taking a sip.
I don’t deserve this. I’m a reasonably good man.
I haven’t done anything to justify my sister asking my…
coworker these types of questions. But this one’s always been obsessed with romance.
She can tell you about every fictional couple from Mr. Darcy and what’s-her-name to that one where the girl had to choose between the werewolf and the vampire. Or maybe she was the vampire.
I tune it out. I’m not sorry.
“Your transaction is complete. Go find someone else’s day to ruin.” I wave her away as if I could have any effect on her. Noogies haven’t worked since she was twelve.
She cups the side of her mouth as if she’s whispering to Rose. “He’s going through a little depresh.”
“I’m not depressed.” Maybe I’m not at my best, but when was I ever?
“Not that a girlfriend is a cure for depression,” Lucy says. “But he needs some life in him, you know? He needs a kick in the pants.”
“I’m standing right here.” Not for long, though. Escape is perfectly reasonable under these conditions.
“What do you think?” Lucy asks her apparent new best friend between sips of matcha. “What kind of woman would bust my brother out of this…?”
She flicks a hand at me. My sister the English teacher has no words to describe me. Or none that she’s willing to say. That’s great.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I tell Rose.
But she’s already glancing me over. Nerves rattle through me like bolts in a tin can.
I cross my arms and straighten to my full six-two height under her inspection.
She’s tall, maybe four or five inches shorter than I am.
Which I only think about because I don’t have to strain my neck when I talk to her. Nothing more.
I don’t care what she thinks of me, and I don’t want to know.
Except I do. A lot. It’s a problem, but I can’t shake it.
She stares up at me, the tiniest tug at her mouth showing her amusement. “I wouldn’t want to risk my standing with my boss.”
Hopefully my sigh of relief goes unnoticed by both of them.
Lucy blows a raspberry. “As if he would ever fire you. You’re awesome.”
Rose breaks out another pleased look for my sister. “Thanks. You’re great, too.”
Again, I detect nothing but sincerity from her. She truly likes my sister and has no problem saying it outright. Odd on both counts.
“I guess I’ll have to do the honors.” Lucy shakes her head as if this wasn’t her master plan in the first place. “Should I eenie-meenie-miney-moe for it?”
“Maybe you should focus on your own love life.” Not that I want to know a thing about it, but Lucy’s a talker. If she had something going, I’d hear about it whether I wanted to or not. For all her fascination with playing Cupid, she’s as bad off as I am.
Huh. Our whole family sucks at love. Except Nathan, but I don’t think any of his dating attempts have made it to the love stage.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting there.” Lucy waves off my suggestion. “Well, this has been a bust. Except for the matcha.”
She raises the cup in toast to Rose, who looks entirely too thrilled by the compliment.
“Always great to see you, too,” I say dryly.
“Will you be at Mom and Dad’s on Sunday?” she asks, backing toward the door.
“Probably.”
She turns her attention to Rose. “He’s so mysterious. See you later!”
Finally, she’s out the door. I wish back the last twelve minutes of my life, but at least she’s gone.
Rose still watches me with a smile wide enough to pop the dimple into the right corner of her mouth. Her curiosity is as plain as my sister’s mischief.
I exhale a noisy sigh. “Ask.”
“Does your family get together every week?”
Oh. Not the direction I figured her mind was racing after Lucy…was Lucy. I’ve never mentioned this in all the time she’s worked here?
“Yeah. Most of us make it every Sunday, but it’s casual.” As if the eight of us could ever manage anything remotely formal.
“That’s really sweet.”
“It’s loud. Obnoxious. Chaotic.” Last week, Nathan and our ten-year-old niece, Jovie, learned a dance off some app, while Graham and Dad debated the feasibility of a moon colony. Mom and Luke discussed the historical drama they’re watching, and Lucy scribbled in a notebook half the time.
“A big family sounds like fun,” Rose says.
“I guess.” I love them, but I’m not in the mood to talk them up when one of them just left pink glitter fingerprints all over my back.
“Lucy means well, you know. She just wants you to be happy.”
I am happy. More or less. It’s not something I rate on a day-to-day basis. There’s room for improvement, sure, but everybody could be happier.
I hold Rose’s gentle gaze. She might be the only person I know whose happiness is already at max capacity. Would being around her more end up increasing my happiness? Or just deplete hers? If history is anything to go on, I already know the answer.
Snapping out of those make-believe scenarios, I move toward the hallway. “I’m just gonna—”
Escape. Finally.
“Oh,” she says. “Just out of curiosity…”
Here it is. “Yeah?”
“Which do you prefer? Blondes or brunettes?” She lifts a shoulder. “In case Lucy asks again. Gotta help you out if I can.”
The air holds in my lungs as my gaze trails over her dark brown hair pulled into a braid. I don’t know the names for different shades, but in the sun, her hair catches the light until it’s got hints of glossy caramel. Another thing I shouldn’t pay attention to, but do.
That color haunts my dreams.
“Blondes.” The lie feels wrong on my tongue, but telling her the truth would be like Pandora taking a peek into a box that should have stayed shut.
She gives me a thumbs up. “I’ve got your back, coffee buddy.”
Right. Coffee Buddy. Just what I want to be.