Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
She scoffs. “We both know Carlton has all sorts of houses you could go take a break in. I’m sure Mom was mad that you left the perfect man at the altar and all, but you’ve always had Stepdaddy Dearest wrapped around your finger.”
Carlton Prescott, our very rich stepdad that our mother married when I was eight and Josie was fourteen, for all his faults—getting together with our mother while he was still married and having a torrid workplace affair that ended in a divorce and speedy remarriage—is a decent human being. A friendly ally in a sea of enemies.
But he’s still our mother’s husband, and at the end of the day, I’m not ready to face him, the fancy penthouse on Central Park he put us up in, or any of the other houses he has across the globe. If he knew where I was, it’d only be a matter of time before our mother did too.
When I don’t offer my sister any sort of explanation and start organizing all the cups and lids by the register that are most definitely already organized, she lets out a humorless laugh and grips my shoulders to turn me around to face her.
“You do realize you’re going to have to tell me eventually, right? I’m not an idiot. No one takes a Greyhound bus when they have the kind of trust fund that could feed the world’s impoverished kids for a lifetime if there isn’t a reason. Plus, I’m pretty sure your boyfriend’s bank account isn’t hurting either.”
I should correct her and tell her that Thomas was my fiancé or that I’ve been completely cut off and have about eight hundred dollars to my name, but I’m not ready to get into the whole mess. I’m still trying to process it all myself.
“It’s a long story, Josie.”
“Yeah, they usually are,” she comments and hitches a hip on the counter. “But the only way it’s going to get shorter is for you to start telling it.”
My vocal cords remain frozen.
Josie lets out a sigh. “Fine. Don’t tell me now.” She takes off her CAFFEINE-embroidered green apron and tosses it on the counter. “Hold down the fort while I run over to Earl’s. I’m low on whole milk.”
“Excuse me?”
“You hold down the fort while I run to the grocery store and—”
“I heard you the first time. What I need clarification on is the fact that you’re going to leave me here. By myself.”
“You’ll be fine.”
My eyes go wide. “I don’t know how to make a single thing.”
Josie looks around the store with a knowing smile. “And lucky for you, there’s no one in the shop. Probably won’t be until the noon lunch rush.”
“Josie, you cannot leave me here on my own. It took me two hours to learn the register!”
“Earl’s is right up the street,” she continues like I’m not standing here having a nervous breakdown. “I won’t be long.”
“Josie!”
“You’ll be fine!” She offers a wave over her shoulder, and the bell above the door punctuates her departure with another jingle.
Did she seriously just leave me here to run her freaking coffee shop? By myself?
I look around the store with incredulous eyes and confirm that I am the only person inside CAFFEINE.
“Okay… Everything will be okay,” I try to reassure myself and offer up a silent prayer that no one will come in here until my sister gets back.
I stare at the clock, willing the minutes to pass like seconds. I even try to busy myself with menial tasks like wiping off the already clean counter and organizing the cups and lids for the tenth time today, but when the bell above the door rings, I instantly want to teleport myself anywhere in the universe but here because CAFFEINE’S newest customer is him.
The big, muscular, grumpy, still-nameless man who drove me into town and promptly kicked me out of his truck so I had to walk the rest of the way to Josie’s.
You have got to be kidding me.
Considering downtown Red Bridge is so small it only needs one stop sign and a single traffic light to keep the roads safe, I know the odds of my running into this guy, in this little town, are high. I just don’t think it needed to happen right now.
Just be cool, Norah. Just. Be. Cool.
When his eyes meet mine, I know that he recognizes me, and I swallow past the ball of nerves that’s lodged itself in my throat and try to go with an affable, customer-service approach.
“Welcome to CAFFEINE.”
“What are you doing here?” It’s the first thing he says to me when he steps up to the counter.
“I work here.” Today, anyway.
“You work here?” he questions like it is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard—like I have a sign on my chest that reads World’s Biggest Dumbass.