Chapter 6 On Beans & Blooms
On Beans & Blooms
Jake
I’m back in the roastery, working on some orders, but I can’t stop thinking about earlier with Holly. Lunch was definitely a good idea, and not just because we’d both needed to eat.
Although she’d obviously had doubts about joining me, I’m glad she did. I took the long way to and from things, showing her around town from the comfort of my Bronco, while wishing she were on the back of my motorcycle, snuggled up against me.
I know there’s plenty of time for that later though, when we know each other better and she’s learned she can trust me.
Lunch was that mix of uneventful and thoroughly thought-provoking I’m coming to associate with Holly, as we chatted about nothing and everything over sandwiches and fruit.
I got the food to go and took her to the springs, where we sat at a picnic table near a stand of pines and aspens.
I still think that was one of the best damn decisions I’ve made all day, initial greetings aside.
With the way Holly came alive in the open air and early spring sunshine, surrounded by trees and sky and water, I felt like a king. Like I’d finally done something right with her. I still do.
I hated having to tell her goodbye when we got back to work, though. And since returning to my coffeehouse, I’ve fought the urge to go next door and check on her more times than I’d like to count.
We just met this morning, and already she’s become my whole world. I wish I could help her with whatever other setup she has at her shop, but these beans won’t roast themselves, and I have some online orders to fill.
Light roasts.
I prefer drinking a darker roast, but my light roasts are buoyant and bright and in demand. They’re particularly crisp and clean, showcasing the incredible fruit, which is why people enjoy them.
And damn, I love coffee, too.
Even the light roasts.
As the beans reach first crack and I monitor their rate of rise, I wonder what Holly’s coffee preferences are.
I may have given her a little grief about stereotyping me earlier, but in a way, I did the same for her.
I made her a sweet, milky latte this morning, reasoning that most women tend to like drinking those.
I mean, statistically, they do. I certainly sell more lattes and mochas to women than to men.
And she certainly seemed to enjoy the coffee. The way her eyes lit up at the first taste is something I’ll never forget. Maybe I’ll bring her another one tomorrow. Or maybe something else.
Tipping the beans into the cooling unit, I marvel at how much more efficient my fluid bed roasting setup is than the drums I initially learned to roast with.
There was definitely a learning curve, but between the two styles, air is by far my favorite now.
More control of the flavor profiles that way, and less chaff jostling around with the beans.
It’s more environmentally friendly too. Or, it will be when I can figure out how to get all of my electricity completely cleanly.
Thoughts of Holly’s greenhouse with its solar panels flit in, and I’m reminded of how vibrant and alive she’d been by the springs earlier.
She never did agree to spend time with me next week, but if she does, I’ll take her somewhere out in nature. She seemed right at home there, and judging by the kit on her 4Runner, she probably is. Most people don’t have winches on their vehicles for show.
I clean the chaff filters and stabilize the temps again before running the next batch of green, thinking about Holly the entire time.
She definitely surprised me.
Nine years my junior. Nine. Somehow, it doesn’t bother me, but it probably should.
She’s only thirty-two and has so much life ahead of her.
Then again, she’s thirty-two, and not a kid fresh out of college.
She’s a business owner, a homeowner, and from what little I got out of her at lunch about her past, it sounds like she’s all in on a fresh start.
Something I’d very much like to help her with.
It breaks my heart knowing that both of her parents have passed away.
Mine are still happily married, living their best life in rural Montana, doting on my brother and his wife and their kids.
I see them all in person at the holidays.
Another thing Holly and I have in common, from what she shared.
I think I’d like to meet those cousins of hers she grew up with in California.
Especially the one who gave her that ‘Happy Hoes’ t-shirt.
I admit, I hadn’t expected that shirt either. It’s funny, though.
“Hey boss,” Truvy says, poking her head into the workshop. “Everything’s cleaned and ready for tomorrow. I’m going to head out.”
I nod, pulling my gaze from the roaster to tell her goodnight. “Thanks, Truvy. Good luck on your test tomorrow.”
“Midterms suck,” she says spiritedly.
I chuckle at that. “True, but you’re ready. You’re going to do great. Be careful on the drive home, yeah?”
“Aye, aye, captain.” She salutes me, grinning, and I laugh at her antics. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“Take care,” I tell her, meaning it.
Truvy’s worked for me for years, even before she started college. That kid is sweet but tough. A hard worker with a kind spirit. She’s one of my best baristas, and someone I absolutely trust to open and close the shop without me.
The realization that we’re past closing time sets in, and I wonder if Holly has already gone home. I glance at the green beans still waiting their turn for roasting, and acknowledge that all the time I spent with Holly today has put me here, working late.
I don’t regret it though.
In fact, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Zander, letting him know I’ve had a change of plans for tonight.
We’d kicked around grabbing dinner and working on our motorcycles together, a favorite pastime of ours when we’re not driving them.
With the way it still gets dark so early and the work I still have to do here though, I need to push it out.
He pings me back immediately. “All good. See you Saturday?”
I affirm. We’ve got training that morning, and while I’d rather be here at the roastery, available to help Holly if she needs it, this was on my calendar long before she showed up in my life.
Still, I can’t help wanting to be present for her.
I don’t like the way she shut down over tiny things earlier. A movement, a glance, a joke. But I appreciate that she’s self-aware enough to recognize the pattern and own her behavior. That she was willing to talk about it is huge. Mature. I love that.
What I don’t love though, is that she had to at all.
I don’t know all the details, but I can deduce a lot based on her behavior and what little she shared with me today. I hate that she’s ever had people in her life who’ve made her doubt her worth or personal safety. It’s unfair that someone so special should have to endure such pain.
I wish I could make whoever hurt her suffer, but that’s not an option.
What is an option is being there for her now. Giving her space to heal and grow and integrate the lessons borne of the suffering. What matters is that she’s safe now. Whole and uninjured. And I plan to do everything in my power to help her stay that way.
I know in theory that Holly isn’t my responsibility.
Hell, we just met this morning. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the pull to her, the incessant drive to connect with, provide for, and protect her.
There’s something there. She’s definitely it for me.
I knew it the moment I first saw her, and I know it now.
Holly and I are meant to be together.
She might not be ready to see it yet, but that deep inner knowing I’ve had from the start isn’t something I’m comfortable ignoring. I want to love her, protect her, and cherish her. To let her know how magnificent she is and help her see it for herself.
Her instincts toward self-protection aren’t wrong.
They’ve kept her alive all this time, but there’s more to life than merely existing.
I saw flashes of her vibrancy today. Sparks of vitality and joy when she didn’t think anyone was watching.
And I look forward to the day she feels safe enough to live like that full out, letting her true self shine like the incredible gem that she is.
That may take time, but that’s okay.
I’m a patient man, and I’m more than willing to put in the reps if that’s what she needs to believe I’m for real. Her happiness and well-being are my priority now, and I’ll do what it takes to support her, even if that means taking things slower than I’d like to.
It’s not about me anymore, though. My entire world got turned around today when Holly walked into it. Irrevocably changed. I’ve officially been recalibrated to a new frequency. Hers.
Ours.
There’s something there, and I’m going to hold space for it to unfold and blossom, no matter how long that takes.
Anything for her.
For us.