by Teri Wilson
Cup of Joe
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
The dog melted into the crook of Goldie’s arm, a warm bundle of soft fur. Goldie thought perhaps she would let the pup sleep with her in the pink room tonight. Then she realized that for the first time since her grandfather died, she would no longer be alone in the house where she grew up. Before she could stop it, a lone tear of gratitude fell from her lashes.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Joe nodded and his gaze glowed with understanding. Not pity, or even sympathy. The expression his coffee eyes bore was one of shared grief. “My pleasure.”
Goldie sniffed and shifted from one foot to the other. She really needed to hold it together. But she had to ask him one last question before the two of them went inside and she lost him in the whirlwind of all the other guests. “Why?”
Joe looked up from the dog with a questioning glance. “Why what?”
“Why are you doing all of this for me? You hardly know me.” Her voice cracked with emotion.
Joe’s fingers wrapped around the shiny silver tag on the dog’s pink collar. He turned over the tag, ran his thumb over the engraving and showed it to Goldie. “Because something told me this might be exactly what you need right now.”
Bliss.
The dog’s name was Bliss.
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
Cup of Joe
by
Teri Wilson
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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Contact Information:
[email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
White Rose Publishing,
a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.whiterosepublishing.com
PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
Publishing History
First White Rose Edition, 2009
Softcover ISBN 1-60154-708-0
Published in the United States of America
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
Dedication
In loving memory of my Grandpa,
Robert K. Wilson
Dec. 22, 1915 - Oct. 25, 2006
And for Jesus Christ, You are ever Faithful and True. Rev. 19:11.
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
Praise for Teri Wilson
Cup of Joe: 2 nd Place Merritt Contest Winner
~Sponsored by the San Antonio Romance Authors
Hoofbeats & Heartstrings series from
The Wild Rose Press
Do You Hear What I Hear ?
Using horses, aromatherapy and a love story, Teri weaves a tale that is more than a novel, more than a love story, it is THE love story in human history revealed. Read this book, you won't regret it!
~ Dr. Kim Bloomer, veterinary naturopath, author, and host of Animal Talk Naturally
I was so enchanted with this charming tale that I read it straight through in one sitting. This story is my first taste of the work of Teri Wil son but it will not be my last… Do You Hear What I Hear? is a must read Christmas story. I highly recommend this enchanting, magical tale! … I can’t wait for the next installment!
~ Stephanie B., Fallen Angels Reviews
Love, Lilies & the Unbroken Straw
In one word: sweet! This chaste romance was a breath of fresh air… I’d recommend this story for those looking for something closer to a true romance. And, in fact, I already have.
~ Janelle, You Gotta Read Reviews
Cup of Joe
Inspirational romance, Christian romance, Christian fiction, romance novel, christian romance novel, teri wilson, white rose publishing
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
~ Psalm 34:18
Cup of Joe
Chapter One
Three days had passed since Goldie Jensen’s grandfather died.
She could tell because that’s how many full coffee cups stood on her front porch, neatly lined up like brave little soldiers. A caffeinated army.
Goldie, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling so brave. Or caffeinated, for that matter. Feet shoved into pink fuzzy slippers, she parked herself on the sofa and stared at the television with bleary eyes. Her doting Grandpa might be gone, but she still had Judge Rudy and Name that Price for company. Hardly the usual television fare for a young woman in her late twenties, but give her a break. Old habits die hard, and she’d lived with an elderly man all her adult life.
Until three days ago.
She tucked her pink, fluffy feet under her legs, clad in her favorite Sponge Bob pajama bottoms, and yelled at the television. “Under. Under!”
Sheesh, the ionic blow dryer was obviously less expensive than the exorbitant price the host, Cary Anderson, was motioning toward with his little stack of note cards. Still, Agnes from Oklahoma wrung her hands and looked longingly at the audience for help.
“Under!” What’s the deal? I’m pretty sure they have blow dryers in Oklahoma, Agnes.
Agnes shouted “over,” and Goldie moaned in disgust just as the doorbell rang. She grabbed the remote and muted Cary with the touch of a button.
“Goldie, I know you’re home,” a distinctly male voice boomed from the other side of the front door. “I heard the television. Please come to the door.”
He was back.
Again.
Coffee Guy.
Goldie gnawed on her thumbnail and remained glued to the sofa, her gaze darting back and forth between the door and the television. To her astonishment, it appeared as though Agnes had actually made it to the showroom shootout. The frazzled contestant was already wielding her pricing gun, preparing to aim it at the extravagant prizes in the final round. Goldie un-muted just to check.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to sit right here until you open the door.” Coffee Guy’s voice was softer, but still carried a distinctive note of determination. “I can wait for quite a while. There’s plenty of coffee out here to keep me going.”
When the screen switched from the kitschy game show set to a commercial for Depends, Goldie dragged herself from the couch to the peephole. Through the tiny circle, she saw the distorted figure of Coffee Guy resting casually against a pillar with yet another cup of coffee i
n his hand. His long legs crossed at the ankles, he was the perfect picture of patience. She really needed to stop calling him Coffee Guy. He had a real name, after all, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember what it was. Like everything else these days, the effort it took was overwhelming. Why did even the simplest of tasks make her feel so tired?
A swig of caffeine may not be such a bad idea.
Before she changed her mind, and before Cary had a chance to start the showroom shootout round without her, she swung open the door. Astonished, Coffee Guy nearly tumbled backwards off the front porch.
“Goldie! You opened the door.” He tugged at the neck of his navy sweater, clearly unprepared for a face-to-face meeting.
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Goldie’s voice was flat, void of all emotion. She scarcely recognized it herself.
“Um,” he stammered. “Well, yes. Yes, it is.”
“So, what’s so important?” Strains of “come name that price” drifted from the living room and Goldie resisted the sudden urge to slam the door in his face.
The lure of the television, coupled with the way Coffee Guy looked at her, was almost too much for her to bear. His melting irises were…well, coffee colored, and they bore an expression of empathy so intense it left no doubt he knew the magnitude of her grief down to the core. But how was that possible? She barely knew the man. He was her Grandpa’s friend, not hers. And, since her grandfather’s passing, she’d kept her feelings tightly under wraps and shared them with no one. Not even God. And certainly not with near strangers who left unwelcome gifts on her porch.
He tugged at the collar of his sweater again, ran a hand through his rumpled chestnut hair and sighed. “I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you’re OK.”
A lump lodged in Goldie’s throat, making it all the more difficult for her to squeak out her response with any sort of authenticity. “I’m fine.”
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “You don’t look fine. Cute maybe, but not your usual put-together self.”
Goldie felt his gaze as it landed on her pink slippers and slouchy p.j. bottoms. Blast you Sponge Bob! Blast you and blast your square pants.
She lifted her fingertips to her cheek as she felt a pink flush crawl up her neck and tiptoe toward her temples. How would he know what she normally looked like, anyway? Granted, he’d been coming here every morning for months, delivering coffee to her grandfather once he was too ill for his regular morning walk to the coffee shop. But Goldie had usually moved about in the background, content to let the two men chat, enjoy their java and play checkers. Sure, Coffee Guy was undoubtedly closer to her own age than her Grandpa’s. Goldie wasn’t blind. She’d become keenly aware of his broad shoulders, kind smile and strong jaw months ago. How could she not? But she couldn’t remember ever exchanging more than a couple words with him in the past. She honestly didn’t think he’d ever noticed her.
Before the coffee starting showing up three days ago.
Coffee she knew was intended for her.
“I’m OK. Really. I was just getting ready to, um, clean the house.” It was a plausible scenario. Right?
“Mmm. That’s right. You’re probably expecting company. The funeral is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
Goldie didn’t trust herself to talk about the memorial service without breaking down, so she nodded in silence.
Coffee Guy shrugged and glanced up and down the empty street. “The coffee shop is pretty slow this morning. I could stay if you’d like some help.”
Goldie felt her eyes widen at the suggestion.
“I mean,” he continued. “I’m pretty good with a mop and a dishrag. I’ve got lots of experience cleaning up at the shop.”
“Oh, no!” Goldie couldn’t imagine a more awkward scenario, even if she had been telling the truth about needing to clean house. What did he expect from her? Small talk while they scrubbed the toilet together? No thanks. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Everything is under control.”
“It’s no bother. I could use the company. I kind of miss the old guy myself, you know?” There it was again. That intangible quality—something in his eyes, in the subtle downward slope of his mouth—carried the silent message that he knew her pain. That perhaps she had more in common with this casual acquaintance than she would have ever guessed.
Despite her great effort to hold it together, Goldie’s bottom lip quivered with rebellion, and her vision misted over with unshed tears. It would have been so easy to lose it altogether and dissolve in a weepy puddle right there on the porch. In the back of her mind, she wondered what Coffee Guy would do if she just gave in and let it all out. Let her sorrow fall like rain, turning all the paper coffee cups at her feet to mush. Would he say what she knew all her friends were thinking? That the man had been 90 years old and lived a long and happy life? That he’d hung around a lot longer than anyone ever expected? Why the shock? Why the overwhelming urge to just climb under the covers when her alarm sounded in the morning?
She knew all these things. Believed them in her mind. The problem rested squarely in her heart.
Goldie blinked at Coffee Guy and decided if she did, in fact, give up the fight against her emotions and let him see the turmoil inside, he wouldn’t find her so cute anymore. The ugly truth would make the Sponge Bob pajamas and fuzzy slippers seem like red carpet-worthy glamour. She swallowed it all down and let the numbness take over again.
“I’ve got it taken care of. Mission accomplished.” She nodded for extra emphasis. “I’m sure you need to get back to work anyway.”
Hint, hint.
He held her gaze for a long moment, as if trying to send her a secret message with his warm cocoa eyes. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it, so she broke the silent connection and looked away—over her shoulder toward Cary and showroom package number two. It was a good one. Goldie thought she saw his-and-her jet skis, but she couldn’t be sure.
“OK then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hoped with every fiber of her being he was referring to the funeral and not another morning coffee delivery.
Speaking of coffee, there it was, a mere two inches from her chest. Coffee Guy had thrust it toward her, a grin dancing on his lips. “Well, here you go. Your morning coffee. Nice, fresh and hot.”
Goldie looked down at the cup and the steam rising from the little hole in its lid. “Listen, you really don’t need to keep doing this. Grandpa is gone. He was the coffee lover in the family.”
“I know.” He nodded, that glimmer of sympathy flickering once again in his eyes. “But I want to do something nice for you. This is yours. Please take it.”
Was there no getting through to this guy? Did he not see his previous offerings scattered on the front porch, full to the brim and untouched? “The thing is…I don’t like coffee.”
A look of utter disbelief washed over Coffee Guy’s features. He looked as shocked as if she’d just told him the earth was flat. Under normal circumstances, his gaping mouth would have made Goldie laugh. She would have teased him that if he didn’t close it soon, flies might buzz right in.
But these weren’t normal circumstances. Nothing would be normal ever again. So, instead, she huffed out an irritated sigh.
It was enough to jolt him out of his stunned trance. He blinked at the coffee cup and his gaze shot back to Goldie. “You’re joking, right?”
Do I look like I’m joking? “No.”
“But everyone likes coffee.” It sounded a little like a slogan rolling off his tongue.
“Not everyone. Not me.” Finally, she’d found the words to rid herself of this situation once and for all. Maybe now he’d scoot on back to his coffee shop in time for her to catch the beginning of Judge Rudy. She’d already missed the end of the showroom shootout round.
“Goldie?”
Goldie shook the cobwebs loose in her head. Why did this keep happening? “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
Coffee Guy took a
step closer and lowered his voice. “You just told me you didn’t like coffee.” He grinned. “Say it isn’t so.”
Oh that’s right. Goldie stood straighter and tried to look serious. As serious as she could look with an animated sponge prancing across her backside, anyway. She cleared her throat and added a final phrase to urge him on his way a little faster. “Never liked it. Never will.”
He lifted a brow. “Never? That’s an awfully strong word.”
Uh oh.
“We’ll see about that.” He set the coffee on the top step beside the pink fuzz of Goldie’s foot. “Tomorrow, then.”