Strumming his fingertips against the kitchen counter, Colt watched the dark, chocolatey liquid drip slowly through the paper filter into the glass carafe. Based on the aromatic steam wafting toward him, he’d done something right.
Colt knew he’d taken a big risk sneaking out to the roasting barn at the crack of dawn without Frank. He also knew his special blend could turn out to be a total flop.
But if it wasn’t, it could be the key to earning Frank’s respect… and so much more.
He glanced at the vintage avocado-green wall clock—7:05 a.m.
Frank should be awake by now.
After setting the carafe and two mugs—one for himself and one for Frank—on a serving tray, Colt carried it down the hallway toward Frank’s room, detouring when he heard voices echoing from the den.
He hesitated in the doorway, surprised to find Cassie poised on the edge of the couch, holding up a sketchpad for Frank, who lounged in the recliner.
Hearing him enter, Cassie glanced up and smiled. “Good morning.”
“Uh, good morning.” His gaze darted between them. The mornings were the busiest time of day for the café, so Cassie didn’t usually arrive to work on their manuscript until later in the afternoon.
Before he could ask the reason for her visit, Cassie tilted her head back, sniffing the air. “Whatever that is, it smells heavenly. And there’s a hint of something I can’t quite place.”
The corner of Colt’s mouth quirked up slightly. His sister-in-law had a reputation for an impeccable palate and sense of smell. He would take great pride in finally stumping her. “I took the liberty of creating a new blend.” He stole a sideways glance at Frank as he slid the tray onto the coffee table.
Frank didn’t bat an eye, his expression unreadable.
“I’m intrigued. May I?” She reached for the carafe, and Colt nodded, his pulse racing as she poured herself a cup.
Slow and deliberate, Cassie brought the mug to her lips, inhaling deeply before taking her first sip. She swirled the concoction in her mouth a moment, letting it coat every taste bud before swallowing. Her eyes instantly sparked with delight. “Colt, this is delicious! It’s bright and floral with—” She took another sip, her smile lines deepening. “Is that a hint of honey I’m tasting?”
“That’s from the Guatemalan beans,” Colt told her, encouraged by her reaction. “I blended them with a wet process Ethiopian bean. I took them to four hundred and ten degrees. Darker than a blonde roast, but light enough to maintain that crisp, citrusy finish.”
“Well, I’m impressed.” Setting down her mug, she filled the second one. “Frank, you need to try this.”
His hands suddenly clammy, Colt wiped them on his jeans before grabbing the mug Cassie offered him. After passing it to Frank, he took a step back, his heart thrumming wildly as he studied each infinitesimal twitch of an eyebrow or flare of a nostril.
For what felt like hours, Frank didn’t take a sip at all. He merely swished the hot liquid in languid, methodical motions, staring intently into the black, velvety depths.
Unable to bear the agonizing silence, Colt blurted, “Sir, I realize I may have stepped out of line creating this blend on my own. But I’d hoped you’d appreciate my initiative. And if it turns out to be halfway decent, I—” He sucked in a breath, blood pumping inside his eardrums. “I would be honored and grateful if, even after you’ve returned to work, you’d consider hiring me as a secondary roaster. Of course, I realize there’s only enough work for part-time hours, but I’d love to help fulfill the growing café and online orders, plus the various nonprofits you supply.”
Winded by his impromptu monologue, Colt inhaled sharply, trying to regain his equilibrium. A huge part of his future now hung in the balance. And the outcome seemed fuzzy and uncertain at best.
The truth was, due to the side effects from Frank’s heart medication, his sense of taste fluctuated on a regular basis. And if Colt had inexplicably chosen an off day…
He cringed, pushing the thought aside.
Forgoing a reply, Frank took a leisurely sip, slurping as he did so. While not the politest gesture under normal circumstances, Colt knew from The Mariposa Method that slurping aerated the coffee, spreading it across the tongue and palate, engaging the full spectrum of sensations.
As Frank swallowed, all the air in the room seemed to evaporate, and even the soothing tick of the grandfather clock faded into the background.
Colt leaned forward, straining to hear Frank’s unspoken words.
“Well, what do you think?” Cassie asked, putting Colt out of his misery.
“I’d take the temperature ten degrees higher next time, but it’s not bad.”
“Next time?” Colt repeated, his tone tentative. “Does that mean…?”
“I could use some extra hands around here,” Frank admitted. “Especially if there’s a honeymoon on the horizon…” As he trailed off, a faint blush crept across his cheeks.
“Woo-hoo! Thank you!” Colt pumped his fist in the air, while Cassie cheered from her perch on the couch.
Colt expected Frank to squirm in discomfort and insist they settle down. But instead, an uncharacteristically broad smile stretched across his face.
“This calls for some pastries with our coffee, don’t you think?” Frank asked, taking another sip.
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Cassie beamed. “I think there are some scones in the kitchen.” She stood and turned to Colt. “Why don’t I grab another mug so you can join us? We’re going over Frank’s proposal plans for tonight, since they’ll have guaranteed privacy while we’re all at the Fourth of July Festival.”
“Sounds great. But I have something even better than scones. I’ll be right back.”
Practically skipping down the hallway in his elation, Colt halted in front of his makeshift bedroom. He’d bought another box of baklava while in San Francisco yesterday, and it would make the perfect celebratory treat.
As he nudged open the creaking door, he froze in surprise.
The barrage of cardboard boxes littering the floor had disappeared. And his twin mattress now rested on a simple wrought iron frame. The ironing board and other miscellaneous items… all gone.
His gaze traveled the newly uncluttered space, coming to rest on a sleek mahogany dresser. He immediately recognized his brother’s handiwork.
Inching closer, Colt plucked a notecard from the smooth surface and scanned the message in disbelief.
Proud of you.
Three simple words. And yet, they filled a gaping hole in his heart he’d been ignoring for years.
Still stunned, Colt took in the surreal surroundings once more. Somehow, in the two hours he’d been out in the barn roasting, Luke and Cassie—and perhaps others—had transformed the storage space into an actual bedroom.
He cracked a smile. The whole time he’d had his secret plan up his sleeve, they’d pulled off an even bigger one. And while he’d been intent on proving himself to Frank, the old man had already given his seal of approval.
His chest tight with emotion, Colt ran a hand along the polished woodgrain, more assured than ever in his decision to stay in Poppy Creek.
After a lifetime of wandering, he finally had a home.
Emerging from Thistle & Thorn onto the bustling sidewalk of Main Street, Penny nearly ran right into the broad chest of Bill Tucker.
“Whoopsie daisy! Sorry, Penny,” the giant farmer drawled. “Peggy Sue’s in a rush for some corn on the cob.”
Sure enough, the rotund pig tugged on her leash, her curly tail nearly straight from the exertion.
“No problem.” Penny watched with a bemused smile as Peggy Sue’s pink, waddling rump disappeared into the crowd.
All four streets surrounding the town square swarmed with activity. Patriotic bunting draped from the rooftops and red-white-and-blue streamers swirled around every lamppost.
The warm, golden gleam of the late afternoon sun lent the scene a nostalgic, dreamy glow, as though the moment were a snapshot of an idyllic memory.
Penny scanned the white billowy tents dotting the cobbled streets, searching for Mac Houston’s iconic booth. Every Fourth of July, he hosted a fundraiser called the Sizzle & Surprise, which also happened to be the fifth and final activity on the list for the guidebook.
To participate in the culinary adventure, each entrant bought a raffle ticket. This year, the proceeds went toward the animal shelter in Primrose Valley. The ticket provided entry into the mystery food competition. The “sizzle” derived from each food being deep-fried in hot oil. But the “surprise” element was the thrilling part.
The participants had to guess the base of each battered morsel—half a dozen in total. The person who got all six correct won a week’s worth of free groceries from Mac’s Mercantile.
The foods changed annually, but always ranged from unusual, like deep-fried Jell-O, to downright unpalatable, like deep-fried caterpillar. Sometimes Mac left clues. Penny suspected the sixth item in the lineup belonged to the pepper family, considering a suspicious-looking stem protruded from the ball of fried dough. She’d have to make sure Colt steered clear of that one.
At the thought of Colt, her stomach fluttered. She had so much to tell him, starting with the arrangement she’d made with his mother yesterday. In doing so, she’d taken a huge risk, and she prayed he would appreciate the gesture.
Her breath stalled in her throat when she caught sight of him heading toward her. He looked so calm and carefree striding through the swell of townsfolk and tourists in his American flag board shorts and white tee. In fact, he appeared to be in too good of a mood, all things considered. Almost as if their breakup hadn’t crushed his heart into a thousand tiny pieces as it had hers.
Apprehension pulsed through her veins, leaving her light-headed. Had she made a mistake talking to Maggie? Maybe she should cut her losses and move on. Clearly, Colt had.
Sucking in a breath, she squared her shoulders, unwilling to let her fears and negative thoughts overwhelm her. She’d come too far to give into them now. Regardless of the outcome, she wouldn’t be left wondering what if.
“Hi.” Colt stood two feet in front of her, his turquoise-blue eyes shining with… what? Excitement? Exhilaration? Hope? She wasn’t sure. But she found the way his intense gaze bored into hers unnerving, to say the least.
“Hi,” she answered, her voice wobbly.
“I have our raffle tickets, but first—”
“I have something to say,” they blurted in unison.
“Sorry.” Penny’s cheeks flushed. Could she be more of a bumbling mess?
“Mind if I go first?” Colt ran his fingers through his hair, a mannerism Penny had come to recognize.
Was it possible he was just as nervous?
“Sure.” She cast a self-conscious glance at Mac, who sat in a camping chair inside the booth, observing them with open curiosity. Her cheeks heated hotter than his frying oil, but she turned her attention back on Colt, choosing to ignore their captive audience.
Colt met her gaze with an earnest tenderness that made everyone around them disappear, and her heartbeat stilled when he reached for her hand. “I have a confession. All the crazy adventures I’ve had, it’s what I thought my dad wanted for me. And I never questioned it… until you.” His gaze fell to their entwined fingers and Penny shivered, either from his words or the way his thumb caressed her skin. He locked eyes with her once more, this time with a stirring soulfulness that stole her breath.“The world has never looked more beautiful to me than when I see it through your eyes. And the only adventure I want is a life with you.”
Weakened by his heartfelt admission, Penny struggled to find her voice. “Wh-what exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying… I’m not going anywhere. I’m all in. With you. This town. And all the little things that make this place our home.” He glanced at the row of chafing dishes. “Starting right here, with the final item on our list, but the first of many more adventures to come.” Plucking the fried glob by the stem, he brought it toward his lips. And before Penny could stop him, he popped the entire thing in his mouth.
She watched, in horror, as he chewed, his eyes bulging in shock. His entire face contorted, his cheeks flaming bright red as tears streamed down his cheeks.
Mac sprang from his seat. “Is he okay? I knew ghost peppers were hot, but he looks like he might pass out.”
“I’m fine,” Colt croaked hoarsely, in visible pain. When he finally swallowed the offending pepper, he whimpered, “Although, a glass of milk would be nice.”
On impulse, Penny popped onto her tiptoes and kissed him deeply, releasing a short gasp as the pungent spice hit her lips. After a long, languorous moment, she pulled away, murmuring, “Did that help?”
“Much better,” he moaned softly. “One more time should do the trick.”
With a breathy laugh, she eagerly obliged.