A Killer Cup of Joe

by Jennifer Templeman

  He stopped talking and squeezed her hands, as though she needed some support to hear the rest of his story. “Garrett called me, so I moved away from the door to take the call while he told me his team had moved out. I didn’t like that, so I grabbed the Glock I keep in my office and began to make my way back. When I got to the front, I had a perfect view of your face. Your eyes were focused on the woman’s hand, so I assumed there was a weapon of some sort. When you went down and she bent over you, I knew that somebody needed to act. Garrett didn’t have a clean shot from where he was positioned, and he wasn’t going to make it across the street in time to knock her off.”

  “From what I heard, you fired a single shot that went through the window in the dark and took her out perfectly,” Ellie prompted. “That’s hard to do, even for somebody with extensive training.” She didn’t want to insult him by pointing out that elite marksmen received that kind of training, not coffee baristas.

  “True,” he agreed, nodding.

  It took a minute for that to sink in. “You were a sniper?”

  Instead of answering, he released his hold on her hands and rolled the sleeve on his right arm up to his elbow before turning the exposed arm over to show the back side, where a circular tattoo appeared with what looked like two rifles crossed over each other and a snake just above them in the X they formed. Written under that was the Latin phrase, “Veni, Vidi, Vici.” The snake was framed with the words “U.S. Army” on one side and “Sniper School” on the other. As if waiting for her face to register she understood what she was seeing, he replied, “I am a sniper.”

  “You’re still active?”

  “No, but there are some things so ingrained that just because you stop doing them as your vocation doesn’t mean it’s no longer a part of who you are,” he clarified.

  “Clearly,” she agreed. “You saved my life.”

  “I was in the right place, with the right tools, when you needed help,” he replied. “I’d do it again without batting an eye.”

  “Your window,” she offered, as though it being damaged was important. “You hate sweeping up glass.”

  “True,” Joe nodded, “but I hate other things a lot more than that. I’d blow every window in this joint if it meant keeping you safe.”

  “You know, some guys give flowers when they’re trying to show how they feel about a girl,” Ellie blurted out.

  “I’m not a flowers kind of guy,” he confessed with a smile. “But for the record, you seem to be pretty happy with the chocolate I give you in the coffee around here.” While he spoke, he rolled his sleeve down just enough to cover the tattoo.

  “Why do you keep it covered up?” Ellie wondered, trying to reconcile that behavior with the guy who always encouraged her to just be herself.

  “I don’t do it out of shame,” he began, as though understanding what had confused her. “When I was active, the most important part of my job was blending in so that I could put people at ease without doing anything to be memorable. Most of the customers that flow through here are either business people who would be put off by any tattoo, or college students who might focus exclusively on it. I was a sniper, not a mercenary, and the idea of some punk kid asking me to whack a professor giving them a bad grade, or a girlfriend that broke their heart, might cause me to act in a way that would lose some of my regular clientele.”

  It was hard to reconcile the guy who was calm and collected—perfectly suited to run a coffee shop—with the image he was suddenly projecting of a man trained by the military to take out threats. “Why did you stop?”

  The right corner of his mouth tightened, and she wondered if he were fighting to keep from smiling or grimacing at the answer. “It was time,” was all he offered as an explanation.

  “Do you miss it?” She knew she was prying, and based on his sudden short answers, it didn’t seem like something he wanted to discuss.

  “Parts of it,” he replied, looking across the room away from her. “Other parts...not so much.” A comfortable silence grew between them as he continued to search the ivory wall for something. Finally, he gave up and turned back to face Ellie. “Do you remember the day you were upset over something and told me you couldn’t talk about it?”

  Ellie nodded, not wanting to discuss that day because he had rightfully put her in her place for trying to lie about it instead of just being honest about not wanting to discuss it.

  “Maybe one day, we can have a different discussion about my past, but for right now, I have it packed up the way I want and talking about it won’t do either of us any favors.”

  As much as she might have wanted to press him for more details, Ellie could absolutely relate to what he was saying. Maybe that was part of why they seemed to get along so well. “In that case, I hope you’ll let me thank you again for dusting off your skills to stop what was about to happen.”

  “My skills are never dusty,” he cryptically replied. “But it was my honor to be able to help when you needed it.”

  “You are a mystery,” Ellie answered.

  “No more than you are to me,” he agreed with a smile.

  She let him change the subject and ask some questions about the case and what had happened after she was taken away from his parking lot in the ambulance. Before she knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and he said it was it was time to call it a day.

  Joe led her to a truck in the parking lot that appeared to be identical to what his cousin drove. “Is this the Phillips family special?” she asked, touching the black paint on the side when he opened the door for her.

  “There are a lot of things I don’t understand about Garrett, but this is one place where we see eye to eye.” With that, Joe put his hands on her hips and virtually hoisted her into the cab. After pulling into the evening traffic, he asked, “So how are you really doing?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied more out of rote than honesty. “Side effects are mostly gone, and I figure another night of good sleep will have me back to normal.”

  “I figured that,” he answered, before clarifying, “I meant, how are doing with what nearly happened?

  That was a different question entirely. She wanted to tell him that was all fine too, but based on how honest he’d been earlier in his office, she didn’t want to repay him with a flippant response. “Maybe whatever she slipped me has changed my outlook, but I’m not struggling with what happened...or nearly happened.”

  “Do you think it will change things for you at work?” he asked, voicing something that was still bothering her.

  “I hope not.” She couldn’t get any more honest than that. “I did what had to be done for this case, but there are plenty of field agents out there who are jumping up and down for the chance to risk it all. I’m just as happy in my office, shuffling papers. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m hoping I’ll be allowed to put my head back down and work the way I’m comfortable.”

  “You didn’t enjoy being in the field, even a little bit?” he pushed. “The thrill of the chase and all that.”

  “I liked knowing I was helping, and it felt good to use all my training instead of only part of it,” she admitted. “But when it was all over, I was relieved to be out of the spotlight, which is proof that I’m not someone who should be in it.”

  “That might be something we have to disagree about,” he replied as he turned into her parking lot. “I think if somebody does this kind of thing wanting to feel the glow of the spotlight, then they need to bow out. The fact that you don’t want the attention is evidence that you should probably have it.”

  Ellie thought back to how she’d felt when Agent Peters began confessing that he wanted to crack this case in order to make a name for himself so he could get a promotion. Joe might have a point, but she refused to agree with him out loud because it would mean volunteering for putting herself directly in the line of danger again.

  “If you hadn’t been able get that perfect shot off and I hadn’t made it, so you were swarmed wit
h reporters asking you to describe me, what would you have told them?”

  “Like an obituary writer?”

  “No, like an article reporting my death in the line of duty, and the writer trying to fill it in with some personal details about my life.” Ellie wasn’t sure how else to put it. Anne had understood what she was after easily, which made her think it was just something women tended to think about that differentiated them from men.

  He turned off the truck and pulled the keys from the ignition, holding them in his hand while he seemed to be considering her question. “I wouldn’t have failed to get the perfect shot off,” he mumbled before opening the door and getting out of the cab, leaving Ellie to wonder if her question had somehow made him angry.

  She quickly followed his lead and caught up with him at the base of the stairs to her apartment.

  He spun around before going up and caught Ellie with his hands on her hips to keep her from falling backwards. “I’d tell them that you knew how to appreciate the little things because you never failed to notice them. That your eyes had this way of sparkling when you were quiet that makes a man desperate to know what you’re thinking. And that sharing a cup of coffee with you always made it taste better because you knew how to enjoy it in a way that was contagious.”

  His eyes fell from where he’d been staring so intently into hers down to her lips. “Damn it, Ellie. Don’t ask me to talk about how I’d describe you if you’d died. Ask me to describe you as you are now—alive and full of conflicts and confusion.” He glanced back up to hold her eyes with his gaze, “You are an absolute mystery that I don’t think can ever be completely solved. You’re smart and brave, wise and loving, and you are quickly becoming the first addiction I don’t think I can give up.”

  She was speechless. That was hands down the sweetest thing a guy had ever said to her. Her father had taught her how to read people well enough to know that Joe meant every word. The problem was, no one had taught her how to respond to such vulnerability and sincerity.

  “Why don’t you come upstairs,” she invited, surprised at how easy it was to open her place up to Joe. Her private space was something she guarded fiercely. Her mother had never been invited and had only forced her way in once, after her dad died. Anne had gotten as far as the parking lot during a shopping trip, but Ellie hadn’t asked her up. Phillips was more a fixture of the apartment itself, so she didn’t think of him as being an outsider in her place. This was probably the first time she’d intentionally invited someone in just because she wanted them there.

  While she weighed the significance of her invitation, Joe misinterpreted her pause as reconsidering. “Hey, I can just walk you up and then go hang out with my nosy cousin. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

  That was all it took to snap her out of her thoughts and remind her that she was being rude. As much as she might want to deny it, she was Janice’s daughter too, and being a rude hostess was something her mother would never tolerate. She slipped her hand into his, squeezing slightly in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

  They climbed to the top, and she managed to get her keys out and unlock the door one-handed.

  He looked around the living room, and a soft smile came over his face. “It suits you.”

  She tried to grasp what he might be seeing for the first time to figure out why he’d made that comment. Finally, she had to admit she’d come up blank, but knew his comment would bug her. “Are you going to explain that?”

  “It’s comfortable.” He pointed to the couch with the well-broken-in throw pillows at one end. “The pictures are nice,” he continued, pointing to the two beach-scene paintings she’d picked up at an art show a few years back, “and they’re general enough that a person can look at them and see different things each time.”

  Ellie followed him as he moved slowly through the living room and to the edge of the kitchen. A big smile on his face caused her to nudge him with her elbow in the hope that he’d keep talking.

  “I’ve got inside information that you know how to cook, so I’m not surprised at seeing a well-equipped and practical kitchen.” He pointed to her alphabetized spices and stove top with her favorite skillet and saucepan sitting out, ready for action. “But despite your skills in the heat of the kitchen, you have a tiny and ill-equipped coffee station, which is why you spend so much time coming to see me.”

  “Guilty,” she agreed, wishing it were different, but no longer so irritated by it now that she had such a stable source for her favorite drink. “You know, it’s close to dinner.”

  “A person’s got to eat...” He seemed to understand what she was saying, but he wasn’t willing to just invite himself to let her off the hook, either.

  “I’ll be glad to cook for you if you’ll try to get a decent cup of after-dinner coffee out of that maker,” she bargained, feeling like that was easier than a direct dinner invitation.

  Joe squinted at the machine and then shrugged. “I’ve got something in the truck that will make it easier. Why don’t I grab it, and we’ll see if I can pull off decent?”

  “Leave it open and let yourself back in,” she told him, excited to have someone to cook for by her choice instead of the stray neighbor she seemed to have picked up along the way, who now invited himself over whenever her cooking drew him in.

  He left and Ellie quickly looked around to see if anything needed to be tidied up. The apartment was straight enough to pass for company; she tended to be neat by nature. The journal from her father was still on the coffee table. She was tempted to throw it in the closet like all the files she’d brought home, but decided to just leave it out there. After the conversation in his office, Ellie thought Joe was the kind of person to respect the boundary of her saying it was something important to her from her dad, but would understand her not wanting to share it with him yet.

  Strangely, with the new information about his past, Ellie had thought she might find him more of an enigma, but if anything, he was feeling more like a kindred heart, someone who could understand where she was without needing every detail of how she’d gotten to that point along the way. He seemed to be okay with her being a mystery, which was a relief, because there was no way she could ever explain how her mind worked.

  With that thought, she took out some chicken and began to investigate what options she might have to pull something together. As the moments of silence passed, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Sure, she wanted him here, but now that she’d gotten her wish, she wondered if she could keep him entertained. This might be the night he realized she absolutely wasn’t worth the effort.

  Two quick knocks announced Joe’s arrival. “I think this will work.” he held out a brown paper bag with his store’s logo on it, leaving her to assume it was some of his private roast. Before she could ask, he set it down and leaned against the counter to watch her cook.

  For the next three hours, they ate, drank, and talked. In Ellie’s opinion, it was the most perfect way to spend an evening. The coffee he produced from her tiny maker was vastly better than just decent. It seemed strange to see him holding a regular sized mug from her cupboard instead of one of the large bowls he used at the shop. She wasn’t sure if it was the different cup or because their time together had made her comfortable enough to watch him closely, but she was fascinated each time he drank, that the tip of his tongue would dart out quickly to catch coffee that remained on the edge. She found herself focusing on his full lips and wondering how they’d feel against hers.

  The second time she yawned, Joe looked at his watch and announced it was getting late enough that he should excuse himself so she could get some needed rest and he could have a fighting chance of waking up in time to greet the morning rush.

  Reluctantly, she walked him to the door of her apartment, sad to see the evening coming to a close, but knowing that she’d probably be awake for hours, attempting to figure out every nuance of what he’d said to know what he wanted from her. It was the kind o
f mystery you could lose yourself in because there was no way to solve it without asking him directly, and Ellie had no desire to ever do that. Sometimes, mulling it over was more fun than figuring it out anyway.

  Joe stood in the doorway and thanked her for a wonderful evening. It almost seemed like he wanted to say something more, but was holding back for a reason Ellie didn’t understand—or appreciate.

  She expected him to say good night, but instead, he glanced down the stairs and then turned to look at Ellie to say, “When I was in the parking lot, I felt the need to look around before coming back up. I couldn’t help but notice the stairway in your building has seventeen steps, but the other buildings in this quad only have fifteen. Did you ever notice that, or am I just proving what a detail freak I am?”

  Despite the fact that she knew bringing it up would ensure her thoughts would be obsessed with that question, she still couldn’t stop from laughing at the knowledge that he’d noticed the very fact that seemed to be her unsolvable riddle. “I think you’ve just proven we are more alike than either of us realized.”

  He gave her a smile that was similar to the one Phillips used to get women to disclose all their secrets. “I like the sound of that,” he admitted, leaning in closer to her. “Maybe the next time we get together, you’ll help me figure out exactly what it meant.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed, “Or I could just let you stew on it for a while so you’d know what it’s like to have something you can’t figure out take over all your waking thoughts.”

  “Ellie...” His voice suddenly had a deeper tone to it as reached out to run the back of his fingers slowly down the side of her cheek, “I’ve known that feeling for a few weeks now.”