Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Geez, Court was a mystery.
I felt like I was two steps behind, still mentally grappling with his bi-ness and completely bewildered to have his attention. I mean…we’d exchanged blowjobs, for fuck’s sake. And I wanted to do it again. Soon.
We weren’t kids anymore and Lord knew, I’d worked my ass off to get out of this town and make something of myself. I’d grown up and clued in. I didn’t need his approval, his time, his opinions, or his dick, but…damn it, I liked him. And I wasn’t supposed to like Court Henderson this much.
Frankly, all this thinking hurt my head.
Thank God I loved my job.
When we’d first opened Rise and Grind, I’d had my doubts about seeing the same folks I’d grown up with every damn day. What the hell could I possibly say to the librarian who’d told on me when I tried to check out an “adult themed” book at age ten? Or my old babysitter who was now a mother of three? Or the teenagers who grunted their orders and never made eye contact?
Their stories seemed so…ordinary. Too relatable. I’d been a disenchanted teen in a small town too, and I’d witnessed full circle moments of my peers becoming mothers and fathers as our parents aged. However, it felt like a privilege now rather than the stagnant march of time.
Honestly, it was kind of funny to serve coffee to people who’d seen you at your best, worst, and potentially most embarrassing. It was special in its own way. Sure, the gossip was a tad provincial and the cultural touchpoints centered around hockey and more hockey, but it was home.
This morning, the buzz was all about Stacy. I had no idea how word got out so soon, but that was Elmwood for you. I assured everyone that she was taking the doctor’s orders seriously and that with Mazie’s help, I had everything under control, which was mostly true.
I poured coffee, tea, whipped up espressos and lattes like a boss, and made small talk about everything from turkey prep to composting the dead leaves in front of the elementary school, as if I knew anything about either topic.
“I’m going to try a rosemary and butter rub this year. Not that Jake will notice. As long as we have pumpkin pie and a gallon of ice cream, he’ll be happy,” Bryson commented, leaning casually against the counter as he waited for his latte.
Side note: Bryson Milligan was a forty-three-year-old realtor, single dad, and all-around good guy. Oh, yes…and he was a seriously delicious silver fox with pretty blue eyes and a toned, trim physique. In addition to being my Bingo volunteer buddy, he was also one of the only other single gay men in town. And no, I’d never had a crush on him. As hot as Bryson was, he simply wasn’t my type.
“Aren’t you having Thanksgiving at your ex’s house?” I put the finishing touches on my latte art and slid his drink toward him.
“No, Piper is going skiing and Jake has mandatory hockey practice Friday morning. It’s just the two of us this year.” Bryson thanked me, frowning at the foam as he reached for a top.
“Let me see what he did to your latte before you cover it up.” JC sidled up to the counter with his extremely handsome, former hockey star boyfriend, a teasing half smile on his face.
“Be nice, Jean-Claude,” Riley hummed in warning.
JC shrugged innocently. “I am always nice.”
I folded my arms and huffed, surveying the line to gauge upcoming drink orders. Three plain coffees and an Earl Grey tea. Mazie could handle those while I took a mini break and chatted with my friends.
“So…what do you think it is?” I pointed at the latte the three men were currently eyeing.
Bryson squinted. “Uh, that’s an acorn. Right?”
“Wrong. Your turn, Riley.”
“Oh, well…um.” Riley pushed his fingers through his dark hair and angled his head till it practically rested on his shoulder. “It’s one of those cornucopia horns for Thanksgiving.”
“Also incorrect.” I sighed heavily and shot an expectant glance at JC. “Thoughts? PG ones, if possible.”
JC scratched his temple. “Forgive my English. What is a nice way to say that it looks like a sad cock? You know…sort of wilting.”
This was a familiar routine. JC teased me for my tenuous artistic skills and I responded with a snarky quip and occasionally, a big-ass smile because nothing drove JC battier than relentless cheer.
“You’re the worst,” I deadpanned, biting back a laugh when Riley and Bryson both elbowed him. “The absolute worst. Two cock lattes coming right up!”
“Make that three,” a gravelly voice piped in behind them.
“Three cocks.” Heat singed my cheeks as I met Court’s amused gaze. I didn’t need a mirror to know my face was beet red. “Cock lattes. I mean…three lattes. Yes. Okay. Sure.”