Page 31 of The P*ssy Next Door
“I think maybe I'd better cook up some new fancy tea drinks and marketing to go with, because if I'm going to stay open, we have to sell more than our currently out of stock lattes.” She yawned and stretched, putting her hands on her back, and looking up at the ceiling.
I followed her in that yawn. Practice was going to be rough in the morning.
“Holy crap, Hayes, it's getting light out, the sun is coming up.” She pointed out the door to the front of the coffee shop. There was only a crack in the door between the two spaces, but a thin ray of light shined through. “We were here all night. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to keep you here fixing this mess with me that long.”
Well, shit. Wouldn't be the first time I'd pulled an all-nighter studying and then had to hit the field. I stood and stretched and then wrapped my arms around Willa, resting my head on the top of hers. “Don't worry about me. I got this, sweetheart. Sleep is for suckers.”
It wasn't. I full well knew the importance of rest, but I also knew how to push my body to its limits. For Willa, I would push to the end.
“At least let me make you a strong cup of coffee. I might think it's gross, but I have a feeling it's all I'll be selling this morning.” She made a stink face. “Unless I can convert more people to the goodness that is Earl Grey tea - hot.”
“Make it so, Number One.” I did the Captain Picard voice and two-fingered point, which was one of the dorkier things I'd ever done in my life. But it made Willa smile, and I swear I'd dress up in a full Star Trek uniform if it would make her happy.
“Get out of here with that impression. That was the worst.” She shoved me toward the door, and I let her because I really did have to go home and grab my gear for practice.
An hour later, I was on the field, lining up for the next play. The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, better than any cup of coffee.
The ball snapped, and I sprinted down the field, dodging defenders left and right. Chris's pass spiraled through the air, a perfect arc heading straight for me. I leaped, snagging the ball out of the air, and tucking it securely against my chest as I landed in the end zone.
“Nice catch, Kingman,” Coach called out, clapping his hands. “That's the kind of move we need to win this weekend. Keep it up, kid.”
I grinned, tossing the ball back to Chris. “Just doing my job, sir.”
We were all going to need to bring our A-game if we wanted to take down the Miami Sharks this weekend. That meant running those pass plays again and again.Practice continued, with each of us pushing ourselves to the limit. By the time Coach blew the final whistle, I was drenched in sweat but feeling good about the way we were playing.
I also needed a nap. But what I was going to do was finally get that cup of coffee and hopefully bring a few more patrons along with me.
In the locker room, as we changed out of our gear, I brought up the idea that had been brewing in my mind to my brothers. “Hey, guys, Willa's been having a tough time getting a steady flow of customers into the coffee shop. Would you come by with me this afternoon and post something on your socials? I figure if people think it's a Mustangs hangout, they'll come by. Give her a little boost, you know?”
Everett looked up from tying his shoes, a grin spreading across his face. “Count me in. I've been meaning to try out her crazy latte concoctions.”
Shit. I'd forgotten about the fact she couldn't make lattes. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. “Uh, her espresso machine is down, but she makes a mean Earl Grey latte.”
Everett made a face at that. But Dec and Chris didn't seem bothered by it.
“I'll call Trix,” Chris chimed in and pulled out his phone. A couple of texts later and he gave me the thumbs up.
“She's been itching to find a new coffee shop to write at when the words aren't flowing for her. And I do love it when her words flow.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I threw a towel at his head. His fiancée was writing a romance novel, and according to him, it was all sex scenes so far.
Declan shook his head at Chris, then clapped me on the shoulder. “I'm down too. But unless she's staffed and prepared to have the Besties descend on her shop, I'd better not ask Kels to join us.”
An hour later, we all strolled into the coffee shop, bell jingling merrily above the door. Willa looked up from the counter, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of four burly football players crowding into her tiny café.
“Whoa.” She gave me a wave and did this cute WTF head tilt. “What are you all doing here?”
I leaned over the counter, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “We're here to support our favorite barista, of course. And maybe bring in some new business while we're at it.” I showed her the posts we'd each done on InstaSnap, and Everett was already filming a FlipFlop with his feet up on one of the tables near the window.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh my god. Thank you. Okay, boys, what'll it be? Just don't order too fast, because the only espresso I've got at the moment is from my shiny new Nespresso from Wally World. But I promise I've got all kinds of other tasty beverages to caffeinate your afternoon.”
Willa pointed to a chalkboard sign that she'd clearly spent quite a bit of time on. It had drawings of flags and bits of maps and indicated an around-the-world tour of hot beverages including Mexican hot chocolate, Earl Grey tea lattes, and something called café sua da from Vietnam.
“You came up with all of those ideas today?” God, I loved how creative she was, and under pressure at that. It was hot.
“Yep, and I think you boys had better become really familiar with making them, fast, because I'm about to recruit you as baristas.” She pointed to the front of the café where the street parking was quickly filling up and more people were walking up the street, most wearing Mustangs jerseys and other paraphernalia.
What followed was a serious rendition of The Barista Bull in the China Tea Shop, a four act comedy where my brothers and I attempted to help Willa handle the unexpected rush.
Declan managed to burn himself on the Nespresso, while Chris slid glass mugs of coffee down the counter to waiting customers who were not as skilled at catching them as he was at passing. Everett, bless him, just ignored the actual orders Willa threw at him and started mixing up teas and syrups and other strange concoctions that I could tell by some patrons' faces were truly vile flavor combinations. But none of the chaos fazed anyone since they were also getting to interact with their hometown favorite Mustangs and get lots and lots of photo ops.