Coffee Shop Girl (Coffee Shop Series Book 1)

by Katie Cross

  Sometimes, life in a small town really got on my nerves.

  “Thanks for meeting me, Kin.”

  He put a hand on my arm and motioned to the booth with another. His touch felt distinctly routine, as if he did this with everyone. It had been a while since I’d touched anyone. With Dad gone, and the coffee shop keeping me busy, touch was a long-lost commodity. One I desperately missed. My mind wandered to Maverick again. What would those calloused hands feel like? That stubbled beard? I’d soak him up like a sponge.

  I yanked my brain firmly back.

  Kin had grown up in Pineville with his parents, but moved away to attend college a few states over. When he finished law school and passed the bar exam, he set up a practice in nearby Jackson City—only forty-five minutes away when driving through the canyon. He commuted back to Pineville every weekend to stay with his sick mother.

  Tonight, he seemed fairly bright-eyed, which meant she must be doing well.

  “How have you been?” he asked, unfolding a napkin on his suit pants. He wore a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows in a casual look that made this feel less like an official consultation. My tense shoulders relaxed further.

  “Ah . . . busy?” I said.

  Drowning. Trying not to scream. Terrified of debt. All applied.

  “A good thing.” He smiled, then motioned for Stephanie, who instantly appeared with menus in one hand and a cradle of buttery breadsticks in another. My stomach growled.

  “For my favorites,” she said with a purr, then disappeared. She didn’t ask for our drink orders. She already knew I’d want sparkling water. Kin would take beer. The perk to living in a small town, as excruciating as it could be in many respects.

  “You?” I asked, reaching for a breadstick. He leaned back, still affecting a professional demeanor.

  “Delightfully busy. The practice is going well. I’ve had some intriguing cases, and I love the clients that I work with. Things are good right now.”

  “That’s exciting, Kin. I’m happy for you.”

  The words right now lingered with something heavy. With his mom sick, there was no telling when all that could change for him. Still, work must be a stable spot. An escape. If he loved his work so much, then once his mother died, maybe throwing himself into long hours would be a relief. Although I couldn’t imagine myself excited to work long hours at the coffee shop.

  A bite of bread distracted me from the sudden bad taste in my mouth.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I looked over to see a familiar pair of broad shoulders in the doorway. Maverick looked like another local with his dusty black beard. He wore a baseball hat and gave a warm smile to Stephanie as she bustled over.

  I turned away, belly hot.

  Of course he’d show up here.

  “So.” Kin laced his fingers in front of him. “I have a feeling this meeting isn’t a friendly break-the-ice kind of thing. Is everything all right, Bethany?”

  “No.” I frowned. “Look, I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship. I’m happy to pay for dinner, but I can’t afford any legal consultation, and I’m in a bit of a tight spot.”

  “The coffee shop?” he asked, something in his voice making it sound like he’d been waiting for this conversation to happen.

  “No, actually.”

  He leaned closer just as Maverick and Stephanie walked by. Butterflies stirred in my stomach at the scent of pine. Kin rested a heavy, warm hand on mine. His breath smelled like spearmint. “Bethany, we’re friends. I’m happy to help you any way I can. Besides, I don’t always charge for consultations, so you can let that go.”

  “Thanks, Kin.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Thankfully, Stephanie led Maverick a little farther into the restaurant. I shrank lower in the seat, shifting to the side where Maverick couldn’t see me.

  “Yes, everything is okay. Well, not really. I think . . . ah, no. Can I ask you some questions about family law?”

  “Please do.”

  “Thank you.”

  He listened while I recounted the story of Lizbeth and Ellie showing up on my doorstep. Until it started to tumble out, I didn’t realize how much I needed to say the words. Kin, though he’d donned a calculating expression, listened with utmost attention. I needed it. I so desperately needed someone to tell me what to do. To be on my side. After Dad died, I’d lost my team.

  I wanted one so badly it hurt.

  No one in town had really known Mama. Her bright eyes and long hair still lived in my mind, an interesting dichotomy of love, uncertainty, and sheer desperation. Only Jada had officially met her when Mama drove out once to see me. Jada and Dad had been an unofficial couple. They twirled around their feelings, never committing, but never looking away, either. She’d known Mama, and had kindly reserved judgment.

  Stephanie returned, setting down our drinks. She tried to catch my eye, her grin wider than ever, but I deftly avoided it by studying the menu. If Kin sensed the tension, he didn’t say anything. I ordered something by memory, grateful for a momentary pause to collect my thoughts again. Repeating the story only made it sound crazier than before.

  After a sip of his beer, Kin shook his head. He straightened when Stephanie moved out of eyeshot.

  “Wow. Two half-sisters dropped in your lap like that is no small thing.”

  My brow furrowed. “I know.”

  “You did the right thing, taking them to Jada. The photographic proof and record of what they told her will go a long way. She and I have dealt with this before, so I know she documented correctly. It’s a start.”

  “That’s . . . good.”

  A short span of silence swelled between us. I didn’t know what to say next. The feeling of Maverick’s gaze distracted me every so often, but I didn’t dare look. I’d lose my train of thought, and I’d finally gotten it back.

  “The first thing I need to know is what you want,” Kin said. “Do you want to try to get custody?”

  I hated myself for hesitating.

  Did I want them in my life? I selfishly wasn’t sure. On one side, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Warm bodies in my house. People to talk to. Not being so alone. But they were like miniature versions of the best parts of Mama, and reminders of a painful past at the same time. Ellie didn’t trust me. Lizbeth and I had competed for Mama’s attention and affection, so I didn’t think she really trusted me, either. Although, she must trust me on some level to have come to me.

  No matter what I could have done to impress Mama, they’d have always won. She’d kept them.

  This whole situation wasn’t their fault, and any perceived competition with Lizbeth may have been in my head. But was keeping them the right thing to do? They weren’t dolls. I couldn’t offer them a home just so I didn’t feel so mind-numbingly alone.

  Ellie’s stricken gaze and lack of speaking flashed through my mind. The real question was could I help them? Could I afford the clothes they needed? How much emotional help would they require? Lizbeth was sixteen. She’d be ready for college in two years, something I absolutely couldn’t assist with financially. Ellie would be with me at least seven more years.

  Then there was the matter of living arrangements. I lived above a coffee shop in a tiny, one-room area that barely fit the three of us. As a temporary thing, it was fine. But we couldn’t stay there forever. I’d have to find a new place, and that required money. I shuddered thinking about it.

  Amidst the spiral of my thoughts, a phone rang.

  Kin fished in his pocket for it, mumbling something about a case. I told him to answer it, grateful for a chance to slow my thoughts.

  Then I made the mistake of looking outside the booth. Maverick watched a baseball game at the bar. He looked back as if he sensed my attention. Something lingered in his gaze. Something curious.

  Something . . . bold.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, then scooted deeper into the booth, putting him out of my line of sig
ht again. How had I let my attention drift over there? Making eye contact with him sent a buzz down my spine.

  Seconds later, Kin wrapped up his call.

  “Sorry,” he said again. “I normally don’t—”

  “No problem at all. You’re doing me a huge favor tonight. Anyway, let’s assume I want full custody.” I picked at a breadstick. “What would that entail?”

  “Gather proof against their father, but you’ve already got some of that. Second, you need to prove that they’d be in a better situation here. Maybe access to school is better, school system is higher rated, etc.”

  He hesitated.

  “And?”

  “You’d have to prove that you could physically, financially, and emotionally support them.”

  My throat worked in a heavy swallow. “Assume I can do all of that. What if Jim comes back into the picture?”

  “If he were to come forward, admit wrongdoing, get professional help, and attend the classes that the state offers, there’s a chance he could get Ellie back. Lizbeth is old enough that most judges would allow her to choose.”

  “They wouldn’t split up.”

  “Then Lizbeth would go back with Ellie. It’s possible that some judges would grant you temporary custody while Jim works through whatever is going on.” He frowned. “What is causing this, do you know?”

  “A crappy personality?” I muttered. “He took Mama’s death really hard. Lizbeth says he’s drinking more. I’m not sure how long he’s been physically hitting them. Alcohol plays some role, but they won’t tell me much. There could be more going on.”

  “Then counseling would be ordered for him, as well as rehab and anger management.”

  For a long pause, we stared at each other.

  “But I can’t send them back, Kin,” I whispered. “How could I?”

  “They could always go into the foster system. And, if you couldn’t support them and a judge ruled against you, they may.”

  My heart hurt just thinking about it. Despite Jada’s optimism, foster care was the last thing I wanted. The girls didn’t need another adult failing them. Mama had left. Jim. Even, in some sense, Dad.

  “So, we could go through all of this and still lose them?”

  “Technically . . . yes.”

  “Okay.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Let’s say I fight for custody. Prove I can support them, and the girls want to stay with me. Would a judge grant it?”

  Stephanie approached with chicken fettuccine for him and lasagna for me. After our murmured thank-you’s, she disappeared with a wink.

  Maverick had moved to the bar, closer to the television screen, his back to me now. A half-drunk bottle of beer sat in front of him. How had I gravitated over again? Turning away from him, I picked up a fork and stabbed into the pasta.

  “I think we could find a judge that would grant it,” Kin said, picking the conversation back up as he twirled some fettuccine. “Of course, that depends on the judge, the time of day, and what kind of mood they’re in. There are some that definitely favor family members gaining full custody, but others have known to be forgiving to parents who go through programs.”

  Talking about Jim had robbed some of my appetite, but I forced myself to try a bite. While encouraging, all of this simply meant one thing: I had to decide whether I could actually support the girls. Give them the stability, home, and support they needed in all areas of their lives. All while I felt like my own life was spinning in every wind that buffeted me.

  I’d have to find a new place to live.

  Get the Frolicking Moose running predictably.

  Somehow afford attorney bills.

  And give up my real estate dream for another year or ten.

  “Thanks,” I said to Kin, managing a smile. “I appreciate the help.”

  “What do you think you’ll do?”

  “I don’t know, but this at least helps me figure out what it could look like. I felt totally blind before.”

  After small talk about his practice and well-wishes for his mom, we finished our meal. The anticlimactic meeting ended with little excitement. Kin gave me a hug before he offered to walk me to my car. He smelled like fading cologne.

  “I need to stay and talk to someone,” I said, “but thank you again.”

  I busied myself with my purse until Kin disappeared outside. Once he was for sure gone, I buried my face in my hands and leaned against the table.

  Tonight, I had to make a decision.

  Either way.

  There was a wild chance Jim would never look for the girls. That he’d simply let them fade away and disappear. But even I knew that wasn’t likely. He’d know where to look once he exhausted all the local areas. In fact, barring a stroke of luck that had him drink himself to death one night, I knew he’d be here. In fact, I felt some surprise that he wasn’t here already.

  I had to be prepared.

  Although I deeply didn’t want to admit it, I couldn’t deny it anymore. Maverick had been right. The shop was an utter disaster. Mounting debt. Missed mortgage payments. Old machines that didn’t function correctly, and electrical circuitry that wasn’t all that safe. Creating an operations manual was the least of what needed to be done.

  Tears filled my eyes as I thought of Dad. An ache for him lived within me constantly, floating in the rage that he’d died in the first place. The disorienting feeling often crashed over me in waves. Tonight, I swam in deep waters.

  I let out a long, whooshing breath.

  Control what you can, Dad would have said. Let the rest go.

  The girls needed me. Keeping them was the right thing to do, and I wanted to do it.

  But could I?

  10

  Maverick

  When two minutes had passed after Bethany’s date left, I had waited long enough. Whatever was said clearly hadn’t been good. The guy didn’t even walk her to her car.

  Mallory was right. Chivalry was dead.

  Bethany didn’t even shift when I slid into the booth across from her, a thousand thoughts whirling through my mind. Who had that scrawny guy been? Why was she eating with him? Who orders fettuccine at this time of the week, anyway?

  Realizing how irrational my thoughts sounded, I said, “You look like you could use a friend.”

  When she peeked through her fingers, the low lighting threw shadows on her face. Her skin was pale beneath blotchy, apple-red cheeks. Her eyes sparkled, clearly on the verge of tears. I worked to keep a neutral expression, though I couldn’t help an irrational flood of anger.

  Did that jerk proposition her?

  “Could you really save my business?” she whispered.

  Startled, I blinked. Her business? When she didn’t back down from my scrutiny, I swallowed and said, “Yes.”

  Her eyes showed such soulful concern I couldn’t even feel elated at my win. This wasn’t how I had predicted her acquiescence. In fact, I’d figured another disaster morning at the shop would eventually push her over the edge. But my speculation was wrong.

  Whatever had pushed her to this, I could see the weight of it on her. My fingers itched to get started.

  “I mean really save it?” She straightened. “Dad left me so much debt. I can’t sell it because then I’ll literally have nothing. No house, only a crappy car, a motorcycle, an unfinished college degree, and a dream of real estate. I can’t buy food with any of that.”

  I leaned back. “Really save it.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “How hard will you work?”

  “Harder than you expect.”

  Despite having heard this before, I believed her. Most failing business owners were at their wits’ end, but Bethany’s desperation was palpable. Something else was driving her to this, and it wasn’t just mountains of debt.

  “Depending on the state of your financials, we could start turning a profit within three months.”

  “Consider them to be in the worst possible state you can imagine.”

  “That bad?
”

  “That bad. And I need it profitable in . . . one month.”

  I thought that over, calculating. A month? It would take that long to get the systems created and running, debt consolidated, and financials mapped out. Not to mention inventory, delivery, and repair work. She was trying to cram a six-month overhaul into thirty days.

  Still, those blue eyes had me. I couldn’t tell her no. Didn’t want to tell her no. What did I love more than a business challenge?

  Nothing.

  Except maybe a frisky glare from her.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said, and that was the best I could do. “Let’s start first thing in the morning, at seven, after the commuter rush. Be ready with whatever documentation you have on financials, operations, titles, leases, whatever. Bring it with you.”

  “Don’t you have to work?”

  “This is my work.”

  “But all the meetings?”

  “Have been building what I’m about to do with you.”

  Her frown grew, and I wondered if she’d puzzled out that I’d been working for this moment since I stepped into the shop. I left the question unanswered between us. Right now, it didn’t matter. All she needed was something solid in this sea of failure that she was floating in. I could give her that.

  That didn’t mean I should reach across the table and grab her arm, but I found it happening. I didn’t stop it. Her arm was warm, firm, and the touch sent a shiver all the way to my work boots.

  “We’re going to fix this, Bethany. I promise. I have a process I’ve worked through. It’s mostly proven, but not totally. At least not for small businesses like yours. If you’re willing to work and take a chance, I’m willing to teach. Together, we’ll get your company back on its feet.”

  “What will it cost?”

  “Nothing except your feedback and cooperation and total transparency.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”