Cafe Au Lait (Cupid's Coffeeshop Book 5)

by Courtney Hunt

  Café Au Lait

  Fifth in the

  Cupid’s Coffeeshop

  Series

  By

  Courtney Hunt

  Café Au Lait

  Copyright © Courtney Hunt 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Digital Edition: May 2016

  www.Courtney-Hunt.com

  Chapter One

  On the first of May, just at dusk, chef Kennedy Roberts staggered out of her kitchen at the Ashford Falls Cafe into the twilight gloaming. She hadn’t even seen daylight today as she’d begun in the kitchen before dawn, desperate to make the upcoming Mother’s Day Tea as successful as possible. Her phone trilled. The ringtone told her that the Cafe owner was calling her—again. Had to be the sixteenth time today. A sudden sharp pain in her jaw made her unclench her teeth and suck in a deep breath.

  “Hi, Larry. I got all the cupcakes made. I think you were right to go with a dozen lemon and two dozen chocolate.” Kennedy kept her voice cheery and upbeat, even as another pain shot through her jaw.

  “I thought we said orange and caramel.” Larry fussed and Kennedy rubbed at the tension headache brewing behind her eyes. Before she could answer, Larry continued. “I forgot to tell you that the business consultant I hired will be there tomorrow.”

  “I thought we agreed that your consultant could wait until after the Mother’s Day brunch.”

  “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Pop the orange cupcakes into the oven and give him a tour.”

  Kennedy chewed on her lower lip, biting back the telling off she wanted to give Larry. Like it or not— and she most certainly didn’t—Larry was her boss, until and unless she could find a way to buy him out. Still, the last thing she needed was some useless consultant underfoot in the kitchen the week before one of her biggest days of the year.

  “I’ve really got a lot to do tomorrow—“

  “Yes, including showing my guy around.” Larry interrupted in a firm, flat voice. “Let’s see what he’s got to say about making my place profitable.”

  “After he’s done, maybe we could talk about some redecorating ideas…”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Ken. Larry out.”

  Kennedy bit her lip hard enough to sting. She loathed it when Larry called her “Ken.” She slipped her phone back into the wide pocket of her stained chef’s coat and headed for her car, her hips and knees aching from being on her feet all day. Right now, Kennedy wanted nothing more than to go home and sink into a warm bubble bath with a large glass of wine, maybe two large glasses, and then sleep for a week.

  As she reached her car, she remembered her promise to talk to the Lockharts about the Coffeeshop’s signature drink of the month. She sighed, letting her shoulders slump and her fingers slide off the door handle. Instead of heading straight home, alone again, she strolled across the square and into Cupid’s Coffeeshop. Kennedy flopped into the empty armchair next to the fireplace. She rubbed her eyes, too tired to think.

  Handsome Patrick Lockhart, co-owner of the coffeeshop, sat opposite her, his feet propped on the coffee table and an e-reader in his hand. His dark hair curled over his forehead, copper strands shimmering in the low light. He glanced up at her, a warm smile curving his mouth. And Kennedy felt nothing. Not a flicker of interest. Then again, Patrick adored Joy, her very engaged-to-someone-else best friend, so Kennedy justified her lack of interest as sisterly solidarity rather than an indication she was getting old.

  “I’m beat. Been at the Cafe since before dawn, prepping for the Mother’s Day brunch.”

  “Joy mentioned that you’re sold out for the brunch. That’s great.” Patrick smiled and Kennedy nodded, rubbing at the headache brewing behind her eyes. Both she and Patrick felt that increased foot traffic in the square was good for all the businesses there. Patrick continued, “So, Joe couldn’t come up with a signature drink this month…”

  “I could have,” Joe Lockhart, fellow co-owner of the coffeeshop and cousin to Patrick, entered from the hidden door to the upstairs apartment. “I just was too busy being the “coffee hunk.” Celebrity takes a lot of time.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes as his cousin sat on the coffee table, propping his foot up on the stone hearth to tie his boots. Kennedy glanced at the way the worn denim cupped Joe’s incredible bottom and his too tight t-shirt stretched against his shoulders. Joe Lockhart was easily the best looking man in Ashford Falls but even a man as fine as Joe couldn’t stir her interest. She was getting old. If she weren’t so tired, she’d be worried about it.

  “Want to go party?” Joe asked them both.

  Kennedy shook her head, trying not to list to the side in exhaustion. There was a time when she’d have been eager to go out clubbing with Joe, hoping they’d end up enjoying more than a dance together. Now, she only wanted to climb into bed to sleep. With all her best friends paired off or home watching their little rugrats, her lack of a social life was just sad. Sometime, when she wasn’t working herself to death, she’d worry about it.

  “I am partying.” Patrick waved his crimson mug and a tooled leather covered e-reader. “My Kindle’s got a full charge so things might get wild in the coffeeshop tonight.”

  “Sad, strange little man, aren’t you, Paddy-cakes?” Joe shook his head as Kennedy chuckled, sinking further into the comfortable chair. Maybe she could just doze off here. At least she’d be close to work in the morning.

  “Not everyone can be a celebrity like you, Joe.” Patrick retorted. “Have fun tonight. Watch out for Zooey.”

  “Always.” Joe answered as Patrick’s sister, the youngest Lockhart and third coffeeshop co-owner, arrived downstairs in a tiny leather skirt, tight sparkly top and toothpick heels. Kennedy’s closet had a very similar outfit though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn it. When did she get so old? Joe and Zooey sparkled in the lights, youthful and happy, before they waved and headed out to enjoy the delights of a spring evening. Kennedy dropped her head onto the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

  “Kennedy?” Patrick asked, softly, just as she started to drift off.

  “I’m not asleep. Just resting.” Kennedy answered, sitting up straight and focusing her stinging eyes on Patrick. “So, I was thinking about your cross promotion idea, I can serve Café Au Lait with your coffee blend and you can offer a discount at the Cafe when people purchase one here.”

  “Isn’t that just a latte?”

  “It’s made with drip coffee, technically.” Kennedy corrected. “But you can make it with espresso. Just don’t tell my classmates at Le Cordon Bleu.”

  “I think I’ll manage to keep it quiet.” Patrick laughed. “I’m just glad not to have to memorize another of Joe’s crazy recipes. Sounds like a plan.”

  “That’s sorted then.” The bell over the door chimed brightly as Kennedy gathered the energy to stand before she really did fall asleep in the chair.

  “Kennedy?” Her childhood best friend, Harper Wells, strode into the shop, wearing yoga pants and a matching bright pink tank. She smiled warmly at Kennedy and headed toward them. Kennedy winced. She’d forgotten to call Harper back again. Between Harper’s busy schedule as a single mom and Kennedy’s work at the Cafe, she hadn’t seen her childhood friend since before Christmas. Running the Cafe took all her time. Still, Kennedy felt guilty about not staying in touch with
her friend and resolved to be better about it.

  Harper leaned down to hug her. Over her shoulder, Kennedy caught sight of a curly haired guy with glasses, staring down at his iPhone. Kennedy whispered to Harper, “Who’s the cutie?”

  “You remember my brother, right? Alex, you know Kennedy.” The man glanced up from his phone, his gray-blue eyes sharp, before he smiled warmly and offered his hand. At just the quick press of their palms, Kennedy’s heart fluttered. She’d thought she was over her long-ago crush on the adorable Alex Wells. She gave him a quick smile and tugged her hand free, focusing on Harper’s voice. “Alex just graduated. Newly minted MBA. He’s home for a few weeks before he starts his big job on Wall Street.”

  Harper beamed with pride as she slung an arm over Alex’s shoulders. Alex had filled out since she’d last seen him. Eight years ago, he’d been a gangly teenager, all coltish long limbs. Now, Alex filled out the shoulders of his crisp navy polo shirt nicely. Why couldn’t she have run into her crush when she was dressed to the nines, confident and serene, instead of in her wrinkled pink chef’s coat and no makeup? Not that she still had a crush on Alex. That was years ago, all in the past now, just a high school thing.

  “Kennedy?” Harper’s voice yanked her out of her musings. “I know Layla would love to see you. Come by for lunch tomorrow?”

  Guilt pinched Kennedy’s stomach. She rarely got to see Harper or her pre-school aged daughter anymore, since their schedules never seemed to mesh. She really had to get better about living a well-rounded life.

  “I can’t this week, Harp, with the Mother’s Day brunch and all. Plus, the owner hired some finance wizard to come by tomorrow to help improve the profit margins.” Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to let the bitterness show on her face. “Like some useless bean counter knows more than a trained chef.”

  Harper’s smile suddenly tightened as she glanced between her brother and Kennedy. “Oh dear.”

  Alex gave her a wry grin before saying, “I’m afraid the useless bean counter is me.”

  Chapter Two

  At just after eight the next morning, Alex Wells strolled into the quiet dining room of the Ashford Falls Cafe. Decorated in hunter green and navy blue, with dark wood booths and hunting prints on the walls, standing there was like stepping through a portal to the past. How many times had he eaten breakfast with his family there? Or indulged in an after school snack with his buddies, watched over by the stern looking horse sculpture they’d dubbed Secretariat? Or celebrated birthdays in the sunny private balcony along the back? The cafe hadn’t changed a bit since the first time he’d eaten there, the day his family moved to Ashford Falls. And that, in his professional opinion, was a problem.

  According to his sister, the cafe menu had changed, rather significantly, since Kennedy took over the kitchen, five years before. A gifted chef, she’d come home from France and set about updating the palate of the entire town. He picked up a laminated menu and glanced at it. Instead of the comfort food options offered in his youthful memories, Kennedy offered a chic, sophisticated menu full of farm-to-table options. Probably another reason for the dismal profits. Alex didn’t doubt Kennedy’s talents but he did doubt the sophistication of his hometown’s palates. Problem number two.

  Following the trill of Ella Fitzgerald singing about summertime, Alex stepped through the swinging doors into the spacious, gleaming industrial kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the bank of windows, highlighting the copper strands in Kennedy’s braid as she stood at the sink, stirring something in a bright orange mixing bowl. He’d always loved to catalogue the colors in Kennedy’s strawberry blonde hair—from auburn to palest platinum. He paused for a moment, admiring the curve of her back and full hips. And here was his third problem—his longstanding attraction to his sister’s best friend.

  Though attraction was really too pale a term for the pulse-pounding desire he’d always felt around Kennedy. Kennedy had always been his fantasy girl, the woman that no one ever measured up to. Always before, he’d comforted himself that she couldn’t be as wonderful as the girl in his memory. Now that he saw her again, he knew he’d been right. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Well, he’d only be here a few weeks. He’d been ignoring his lust for Kennedy much longer than that. He could manage it.

  He stepped up next to her, catching the sunshine scent of lemons, sugar, and spices that always clung to Kennedy. She scowled over at him, her vivid blue eyes highlighted by her purple chef’s coat. This close, her eyelashes shimmered like new pennies in the sun and he could count the freckles blossoming over her nose. Though he hadn’t seen her in nearly a decade, Kennedy was just as lovely as she’d always been. And just as out of reach for him, Harper’s scrawny kid brother. Even if he wasn’t quite as scrawny any longer.

  “I’m here to count some beans.” Alex said. Her lips twitched though she continued to scowl at him as she slapped the white mixture in the mixing bowl with a wooden spoon, rather more forcefully than Alex judged necessary. “Have those egg whites been very naughty?”

  Kennedy cracked a smile at him before holding the bowl over her head. Alex fully expected the whites to slop out of the bowl but they stayed put and Kennedy seemed satisfied. She spooned the mixture over a set of lemon and berry tarts standing on the counter, efficiently slipped the tarts into the oven, and tossed the mixing bowl into the deep stainless steel sink before putting her hands on her hips and turning toward him.

  “Larry Rubin may own this restaurant but he wouldn’t know gourmet food if it danced the hula on his plate. I’ve told him over and over that quality ingredients cost more. He won’t listen. He’s got outsized expectations of this place being a money-spinner. I don’t need a financial analyst. I need a good pastry chef, more servers…”

  “You’re probably right.” Alex held up a hand and Kennedy blinked at him. “You may not like it, Kennedy, but I’ve promised to help Mr. Rubin. If I agree with your assessment, I’ll put that in my report to him.”

  “How’d you get roped into this?” Kennedy asked as she attacked the dishes in the industrial sink, scrubbing at a saucepan with caked on lemon curd. He glanced around the kitchen, surprised to find her working alone. Perhaps the rest of the staff just hadn’t arrived yet.

  “My mom ran into him on the golf course. Mentioned I’d just graduated with my MBA and…”

  “Here you are.” Kennedy shook her head, tutting under her breath.

  “Wonders of living in a small town.” They said in unison. Alex laughed. Kennedy scowled and spun around to grab her tarts out of the oven, the meringues now perfectly browned. Alex’s mouth watered at the luscious scent.

  “Those look amazing. And they smell even better.”

  Kennedy narrowed her eyes at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Alexander Wells. Those are for my Mother’s Day tea. You can’t have any.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “That charmer routine won’t work on me.” Kennedy met his gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he let his gaze fall to her mouth and then dragged his gaze back up her face. She flushed, her creamy skin turning the color of a ripe peach, and turned away. “Things don’t need to be awkward between us, Kennedy. It was just a kiss.”

  “A kiss?”

  “At your going away party.”

  She flushed harder and turned away, fumbling with ingredients on the counter. Surely she remembered. He never forgot it. He still dreamt of it sometimes. Just after she’d graduated high school, Kennedy’s parents threw her a huge going away party to celebrate her heading off to Paris to study at Le Cordon Bleu. At the party, everyone wore silly berets and sparkly Eiffel Towers decorated every table. With Harper already in college and Kennedy leaving, his junior year promised to be very lonely. Moping, Alex wandered the edge of the party and found himself in the shadow of the pool house in Kennedy’s back yard. He leaned against the wall and sipped his stolen champagne.

  Kennedy, out of breath from dancing on the deck, appeared at th
e edge of the shadows. She smiled at him as she rested next to him, the lights in the pool reflecting over her face. Music still flowed over them in the light breeze. He’d opened his mouth to ask her to dance and she’d leaned close, pressing her lips to his, tasting of champagne and sweet macaroons. His first kiss. Alex had been so surprised he hadn’t responded at first and she’d leaned back, her red beret jauntily askew over one ear. She blushed, silver moonlight flashing on the Eiffel Tower earrings she wore. Before she could step away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

  And that kiss, his second one ever, turned deep, passionate, intense, as their tongues tangled, both of them desperate for a taste of each other. She twined around his body, the way she’d always been wrapped around his heart, her curves perfect against him. They broke apart, their breath still mingling as they embraced. Her mother called her to cut the cake and she stepped out of the circle of his arms, her eyes wide. She’d dashed back to the safety of the party and flown to France the next day, out of his life. Until last night, he hadn’t seen Kennedy since.

  But he’d thought of her often. Far too often.

  “My going away?” Kennedy echoed, biting her full lower lip and avoiding his eyes. “I was so drunk I don’t even remember it. All I remember is flying with that horrible hangover the next day.”

  She kept her face averted but a flush crept up her neck. He’d grown up watching the Kennedy and Harper show. He knew her tell for lying. The flush on her neck told him that she remembered, even if she denied it. But the question that left him with was—why? Maybe this temporary job would let him find out.

  “Larry sent me the financial information. I’m going to spend the rest of the day going over that and we’ll chat again.”

  Kennedy shrugged and didn’t answer, her focus on the eggs she carefully cracked into a bright blue mixing bowl.