First Chapter: Footnote
The overhanging bell chimed as the door swung open, letting in a blast of frozen wind. I was slowly getting into the habit of looking up to greet patrons as soon as the tinkling sound echoed through the Busy Bean.
It wasn’t easy. If I was measuring coffee grounds for the espresso machine, I kept focused on that. If I was counting change, I couldn’t look up, too scared to stiff customers or my bosses. Zara, Audrey, and the other employees were pros at multitasking. They were like fireflies of activity, doing twenty different things all at once, including shouting out a kind welcome to the patrons.
I wasn’t exactly good at the whole chipper-greeting thing on a regular basis, let alone in the middle of a task. Besides, a cheerful hello demanded volume and a certain exuberance that I just didn’t have.
It sure wasn’t going to happen with this particular patron.
When I finally looked up to acknowledge the newcomer, I failed to remember a few things.
How to breathe.
Where I was.
Who I was.
My knees forgot how to stand, too. They buckled under me, threatening to twist together like Roderick’s pretzels before they went into the oven. I was a half-baked lump. The only thing I could do was blink. Fast and hard to remove the strange optical illusion standing in front of me.
There was no way in hell this was happening. Not after all this time. Not now. Not here.
And yet…
How many people had eyes the color of a starry night, complete with a twinkle? I knew if I looked hard enough, I’d see a sparkle in the blue depths, a tiny glimmer of stardust floating in the dizzying gaze.
That wasn’t even half of it. There was the smile. The one that was warmer than a preheated oven in the morning. The one that hinted at a dimple that never quite made its way into existence.
Penley Brooks.
He was the only man in the whole world that had all of those attributes. Unless I had finally lost my mind, he was standing in the Busy Bean, grinning at me. Like we ran into each other every day in Colebury. Like we talked all the time.
Like we hadn’t lost touch over a decade ago.
Like I hadn’t left without a word.
My body was still, refusing to move until he confirmed his presence. Maybe he would disappear. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.
“Sasha Covey.” He spoke my name like it was a benediction. But maybe that was simply the fizz of hope going off in my heart. I hadn’t felt that in eleven years.
If I had a tongue before, it was gone. Lost. Sacrificed to the gods of deep, rumbling male voices that made kindling out of a woman’s legs. Oh, he had not misplaced his charm. It had doubled. Tripled. Or maybe it was all me. I hadn’t shed my silly crush on him. It came roaring up like time hadn’t made us older.
“Hey, Pen.” Zara beamed at him before arching a brow at me, silently asking me what had turned me into an immobile pile of goo.
“Zara, hey. How’s the family?”
My boss shrugged. “Wonderful.” The oven dinged like a hangman’s bell. “Excuse me. Sasha here will take your order.”
Before heading into the kitchen, she shot me another look. I wanted to reach out and beg her not to leave me alone with Penley, but that would have been too weird. Even for me. I already won the Weird Award daily; I didn’t need to add to my collection of strange exchanges.
I tried to swallow, pleading with my voice to magically reappear, but then he went and did something completely in character. Something that made my gooey body turn to mush.
He leaned on the counter.
That smirk of his was on full display. Was there a spotlight on him? That was the only explanation. No one’s hair shined like that. Was I suddenly allergic to coffee? That was the only reason why my lips were tingling wildly.
A kiss couldn’t reverberate through the decades.
It was impossible.
Scientifically unprovable. Like almost-dimples and stardust eyes.
Kisses didn’t rebound. But then again, I was no expert in first kisses. Or second. Or third.
“How are you here?” Penley’s wonder echoed my own, effervescing in the pit of my stomach.
“I work here,” I answered lamely, even though I knew what he meant. I was definitely not going to tell him how I ended up in Colebury. I’d changed a lot since the last time we saw each other. Not exactly for the better. Penley was the last person in the world who would ever get the truth out of me. It would hurt him too much.
“I can see that you work here.” His smooth laughter glided against my bare arms as he slowly took me in. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Yeah. Same. What can I get you?”
There! A full sentence. Shake it off, Sasha.
Way easier said than done.
Anyone in my position would be blubbering, no matter the expansive vocabulary they might have amassed. It didn’t matter that I read the dictionary for fun as a kid (and an adult). My collection of words evaporated in a puff of nostalgia.
If I’d known Penley lived in Colebury, I would have mentally prepared myself for this moment. I would’ve gone through a million different scenarios. I’d have something memorized. Oh, hey, Pen. Flirty eye batting. How’s it going? Hair flip. Haven’t seen you in ages. Musical giggle. Why, yes, I’m doing marvelously.
Nope. No such luck. Instead, I stood motionless, seconds away from drooling in his general direction.
“One of those muffins and a coffee with cream and…”
“Four sugars,” I finished for him.
Why? Just why did I have to remember how he took his coffee? Or more to the point, why did he have to smile at me like that?
“You always did have an amazing memory.”
My fingers trembled as I prepared his order. My traitorous digits twitched so much I nearly forgot how to use the cash register. It didn’t help that I had spectators. Zara, not so slyly, watched from the kitchen while Jenny, my best friend, sat on the very edge of the peach-colored couch, memorizing every moment of the exchange.
Please wait until he’s gone to grill me. Do not embarrass me. I’m doing a good enough job of that myself.
I was a grown-ass woman with a degree in psychology. I understood the mechanics of attraction. Did that help me right then? Not in the least. I was a swoony kid all over again, hovering somewhere between thirteen and fourteen.
“I’ll see you around, but before I forget… Parnassia.” Penley Brooks winked at me.
And.
I.
Died.
My achy fingers clenched the edge of the counter. Why why why did he have to go and say that? With a wink? Was he trying to kill me? Was this my punishment? I could see it already. My tombstone would read, Here lies Sasha the Shy. May Death deliver her from her accursed muffled existence and lazy tongue.
The bell over the door announced his departure. That time, my head snapped up to get one last glimpse of Penley. Of course he was looking back at me with a smirk. When the door (finally) closed behind him, Jenny leaped from the couch and ran toward me. Only the counter saved me from her clutches.
Her face was flushed, her eyes wide as she panted for details. She wasn’t exactly boy crazy, but she wasn’t a cloistered nun either. She was somewhere in the middle, vacillating between the two depending on the time of year. Spring was coming, bringing with it summer break. We were headed straight for mischievous wood nymph territory. As always, she’d try to drag me along for the ride. And as always, I would remain firmly in the cloister.
“What. Was. That?” Jenny’s smile broadened with every pause. She turned toward the door as if expecting Penley to walk back into the Bean. “Was that Penley? The Penley? That Penley?”
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Zara joined in. “How do you know the town vet?”
“They knew each other as kids,” Jenny answered for me. “Sasha had this crushing crush on him. She still talks about him, especially when she gets into the sangria.”
Zara grinned. “Well, isn’t that interesting. Did he call you Parnassia?”
“He did.” Jenny hopped up and down, used to talking for me. “It’s a thing they did. It —”
“It’s nothing,” I assured them as I rubbed at an invisible stain on the counter with a rag.
“That was definitely not nothing.” Jenny fanned herself with her hand, looking every bit like a pixie. “The smolder he gave you. Good thing we have a long drive ahead.”
“We’re not going to psychoanalyze every word.”
“But we are,” Jenny insisted. “We both have psych degrees, and my mother is Queen Psych. It would be a waste of our talents not to.”
Zara’s chuckle spoke volumes: better you than me. She had no idea. Jenny, with her exuberance and limitless positivity, was my direct opposite. How we managed to be best friends was one of life’s greatest mysteries.
But not as baffling as my exchange with Penley.
I wouldn’t be reduced to a clucking hen because an old crush had sauntered into my life like a preening peacock. A sexy, manly peacock. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I didn’t need a full reel of memories playing through my mind. So, of course, that’s exactly what my brain did. It was a wonderful and painful second, where fourteen months flashed by, ending with a small note and a million tears.
“You’re no longer on the clock.” Zara hip-bumped me away from the counter. “Go. Have a fun weekend with your family.”
“The We —”
“I swear to the good gods of the coffee bean, Sasha Covey,” Jenny grumbled in a fairly good impression of Tinker Bell as she retrieved her drink, “if you say that you’re not a part of the Webb family…” She dropped the rest of the threat to take a gulp of her coffee. Her eyes rolled back with a moan. “Damn, but this is amazing coffee.” She held the empty cup up to Zara in a silent cheer before pointing her finger at me. “Now get that cute tushy in the car.” Her brows shot into her hairline, daring me to contradict her.
I took off my apron and folded it neatly as I confirmed my next shift with Zara. Along with her business partner and friend, Audrey, Zara ran the Busy Bean. They were both great bosses. Great women, full stop. Not many people would have taken a chance on someone like me, but they had. So long as I worked hard, they didn’t care about my less-than-stellar history, lack of work experience, and a guarantee that my time in Colebury was numbered. I would do my level best to do right by them.
“See you next week.”
Jenny, who had never met a stranger, waved to Zara. “We’re going to be in the car for almost an hour. You’re going to explain to me where my best friend went back there.”
“You’re bossy.” I sighed, grabbing my overnight bag from behind the counter.
“I am my mother’s daughter,” she shot back as we left the Bean.
In truth, Dr. Margaret Webb wasn’t bossy. She was probably one of the very few people in the world who had a shiny soul. She was the kind of person who truly lived to help others. If Jenny had anything of her mother, it was that. A generosity that made me want to weep sometimes.
Other times, it made me do a full-blown ugly cry.
“For once, I’m really glad you don’t know how to drive,” Jenny declared as she led us to her car. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
If only I had an explanation, but the best I could think of was simply: Penley Brooks.