Page 33 of Just One Moment
She’smentioned going out to see the leaves change a couple of times now, andIcan’t stop imagining what she’d look like with the fall colors as her backdrop.
Ithink she’d like that.
Shereally likes the flowers, so at leastI’mdoing one thing right so far.
Mylips twitch asIrecall the sparkle in her eyes whenIbrought her that first bouquet.I’dwanted to melt right into those liquid-gold orbs.
Butlike a swift kick in the chest, bitter reality sets in.
Thishas an end date.
Itwould be stupid of me to get attached—more thanIalready have.
Islam my journal shut and lock it away in my desk, along with my stupid, naïve heart that keeps tempting me out of my comfort zone and into danger.
ThisdesireIhave withQuinnis high risk and unpredictable.
Shemight be tiny, but she sure as hell has the ability to bulldoze me to the ground, andIknowI’dnever recover from a wreck like that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
quinn
“Onehazelnut latteand one decaf americano.”Iplace the cups down on the table. “CanIget you guys anything else?”
Thetwo customers shake their heads and politely thank me.WhenI’msatisfied they’re happy,Isprint back behind the counter to fulfill the next order.
Torrentialrain has been pelting against the windowpane all day, not letting up once, which brought in a ton of people needing shelter.Waterrivulets run down the glass, and every time the door opens, the smell of rain and damp leaves follows in with a new customer.It’sthe perfect weather to soak in the tub, andIcan’t wait to use one of my new bath bombs after today’s shift.Mymuscles and back are going to need it, andIplan on taking advantage ofGraham’sbathtub.
Todayhas been crazy.I’vebeen running around nonstop sinceIflipped around the open/closed sign.It’sgreat for business,Ijust wasn’t prepared for it, considering it’s a normalTuesdayafternoon, which proves how understaffedIam.Theplan was to hire a part-time barista twelve months in, allowing me to concentrate on the baking and back-office stuff, but withthe state of my finances right now,Idon’t see that happening anytime soon.
Wesurvive and thrive,Iremind myself asIpour hot water into the pot to let the chamomile leaves steep.Oncethat’s done,Iset two glasses of water next to the teapot, cup, and saucer, as well as a soy cappuccino on the tray, and head over to the waiting table.
Igot weird vibes from these two when they walked in, and from the impatient looks they’re throwing at me, the ten minutesIwarned them about was too long.
“Herewe go,”Isingsong asIset the tray down, hoping to ease the tension. “Sorryabout the wait.”
Whenthe drinks are served,Ismile at them both. “CanIget you anythi?—”
“Noice?” the brunette butts in.She’dbe pretty if she didn’t have a permanent scowl on her face.
“Oh, no, sorry.Theice machine is on the fritz,IthoughtItold you when you placed your order.Ican go an?—”
“Areyou sure this is soy?” the redhead snaps, my head pinging in her direction.
“Positive.Imade it myself.”Mycheeks ache from the forced smile.
Killthem with kindness.
“Itdoesn’t smell like it.”Shesniffs the foam that looks exactly like steamed soy milk and makes a disgusted face. “Thissmells like cow’s milk.I’mgoing to need you to make another.I’mon a strict no dairy diet right now.”
Inthrough the nose, out through the mouth.
“Absolutely,”Isay through clenched teeth.Pickingup thesoycappuccino without argument, it takes all my strength not to stomp away from them and throw the cup into the sink.Instead,Ipour thesoycappuccino down the drain, prepare a double shot of espresso in the machine, and start frothingsoymilk.
Again.
Customerslike this are a rarity, but if you’re going to work in the food and beverage industry, you better be prepared for them.Apparently“Karens” are worming their way into the younger generation, because these women don’t look much older than my twenty-six years.