Chapter 5: The Coffee Shop

Whoever owned this coffee shop had great taste, in my opinion. The lighting of the shop was dim—lit by many candles and small vintage lantern-styled lights. The floors were dark cherry wood. A woman in her late twenties looked up at me tiredly—obviously, she hadn’t had enough coffee today, even though there was a full pot behind her.

She had on a maroon apron that advertised the name of the coffee shop. Her eyes were as black as night and didn’t match her porcelain skin. Her long black curls bounced behind her when she met my gaze. I imagined she had naturally straight hair and got a perm, but it worked for her somehow. She cleared her throat and put down the romance book she was reading. “What can I get you?” Her tone was polite, but she seemed very unwilling as she stepped closer to me.

“A large cup of the darkest coffee you have, please.” I slid a five-dollar bill across the counter to her.

She left the bill on the counter and turned away to pour me some coffee. My eyes wandered around the little shop, taking it in. There weren’t any other customers other than the one I had run into as I was coming in.

“How late are you open?” I asked.

“Ten o’clock.” She came back with my cup of coffee and took the five. She gave me back my change. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” There was an incredible living-room-styled area near the front of the store across from the counter. I sat my drink down on the coffee table in front of the vintage red leather wingback chair which. A matching vintage red leather couch sat beside the chair I sat in directly across from a real fireplace. I think I just found my new favorite place—I sighed contently and leaned back in the seat as I opened my book.

“Comfortable?”

I shot forward and gasped—not expecting to hear a voice close behind me. “Damn it!” I looked back to see who had startled me. It was none other than Tanner Crow. I played stupid because there was no way I was explaining how I knew his name. “Do I know you?”

“Well, you may or may not have heard of me. My name is Tanner, and you are Katrina Howell,” he said.

“And you know my name how?”

“Well, you are the talk of the town.”

I grimaced and opened my mouth to get defensive, but he spoke again before I could.

“Don’t get excited. Most new people are.”

“Oh.”

He chuckled.

Something about the way his eyes held mine made me shiver. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” I said and raised up my textbook.

“Sure, but hey, there is a party—”

“Thursday night. I already heard. Thanks,” I said sharply.

He raised his hands and backed away slowly. “Well, if you need a ride, I would be more than happy to oblige. Call me.” Tanner placed a small piece of paper on the table next to my cup and gave me a warm smile, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine. “Have a good night.” He began to retreat, still watching me.

“Same to you,” I said and stared as he retreated. He grabbed the coffee he must have ordered off the counter and thanked the waitress before walking out the door. I wondered why I hadn’t heard him come in. There was a bell on the door. I was so off into my own little world I must have missed it.

My eyes went back to my book when Tanner walked out the door, but a moment passed, and I got a strange feeling like someone was watching me. I glanced to the left, where there was a huge store window, and I saw Tanner. He stood at the window with his nose nearly touching the glass, staring straight at me.

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyebrows pulled together.

Tanner didn’t look embarrassed that I caught him staring, and I found it bizarre. Weird—I thought. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile, and he turned and walked away.

It wasn’t long after Tanner left that I got lost in my textbook. The craft of writing truly did fascinate me. It wasn’t something I had to force like I did other things. Writing entertained me in ways that other things could not. For example, the world of writing entertained me more than people did which was why I was so antisocial. Even romance held my attention because of how unrealistic romance books were. Romance didn’t happen in real life the way they were portrayed in stories. It sort of pissed me off. From my own personal experience, romance often goes from bad to worse, and it wasn’t like I had a ton of experience, but one time was enough to set the record straight. When I wrote a romance story, I kept it as honest as possible.

“Excuse me?”

I glanced up from my book to find the waitress in front of me.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s ten o’clock.”

“Oh. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I lost track of time,” I said as I fumbled with my book.

“It’s no problem. I hope you enjoyed your coffee.” She took my cup and straightened up.

“It was great. Thanks.”

I started for the door as she went back to the counter. However, a light blue piece of paper taped to the door caught my attention—only two words: Now Hiring. I spun back around, and she was looking curiously at me. “Are you still hiring?”

“Yes, the owner is looking to replace one of the people that is leaving the night shift next week. You can take an application with you and return it tomorrow if you wish.” She picked up a piece of paper and held it up for me to see.

“Thank you,” I said and took the application. It would be the perfect fit for me. I’ve never worked at a coffee shop before, but I have experience working at a restaurant. The extra money would help.