Pumpkin Spice
Tenth in the
Cupid’s Coffeeshop
Series
By
Courtney Hunt
Pumpkin Spice
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: September 2016
www.Courtney-Hunt.com
For Elise,
my other mother
Chapter One
At just after one o’clock on an otherwise unremarkable early October day, Ashford Falls high school Principal Jameson Kincade pushed back from his desk. As a favor to his former softball coach, he’d agreed to meet with a potential head coach for his struggling football team. The Ashford Falls Panthers hadn’t won a game this season or last and showed no signs of changing that losing streak any time soon. If Tim Lennon, now sunning himself in his well-deserved Floridian retirement, said Nat Lawson was a football genius, then Jameson knew enough to at least meet with the potential candidate. He didn’t think anyone could change the Panthers’ bad fortune, though.
He ignored the papers piled high on his desk as he shrugged into his suit coat, his back stiff from sitting in a wobbly desk chair all day. With a wave to his always-on-the-phone secretary, Jameson stepped out into the bright sunshine, blinking like a mole crawling out of his lair. Instead of driving to the coffeeshop in the center of town, he decided to walk and enjoy the fall day, crisp as a fresh apple. Crimson edged the tips of the oak leaves that fluttered and bounced in the cool breeze. In just a few weeks, all the trees in Ashford Falls would wear their fall party dresses of gold, russet, and orange. An already-fallen leaf crunched as he stepped on it. After a long, hot Indian summer, autumn had come to Ashford Falls at last.
As he walked, Jameson’s muscles warmed and loosened. When he’d taken the principal job, just over a year ago now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d miss the kinetic energy of standing in front of a classroom, making history come alive for his students. He missed working with the students so closely, knowing the ins and outs of their lives, guiding their hopes and dreams. But, he’d worked for years to get the seat behind the desk, with all the stresses and headaches that came from administering a school full of teenagers. He’d adjust to it eventually. And, at only a few years from forty, maybe the aches and pains were just due to age, instead of being trapped in an office all day, cold comfort that it was.
When he opened the coffeeshop door, the rich scent of the heavenly coffee they served poured out, along with the sweet scents of cinnamon, cloves, and ginger. Jameson drew in a deep, appreciative breath. Looked like pumpkin spice season had arrived too. As Jameson stepped into the welcoming interior of the coffeeshop, a flash of silver near the corner caught his eye. Jameson peered across the shop. Over a corner table, a dark-haired boy wearing a blue and silver Ashford Falls letter jacket locked lips with a blonde girl. Jameson, longing for a cup of coffee, detoured over to the table and paused by the embracing couple. When that failed to separate them, he cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface. Startled, they sprang apart and glanced up at him. The girl had the grace to blush but the boy, his full lips swollen from all that kissing, simply raised an eyebrow at him.
“Shouldn’t you be in Mr. Young’s fifth period English class right about now?” Jameson asked.
“Shouldn’t you be in your office right about now?” His son, Kieran, stood, with the coltish half-grace of a teenager. Within an inch of each other’s heights, Jameson could look directly into his son’s hazel eyes. When had Kieran grown up on him? And when had Kieran started dating Elle Robertson? Last he’d heard, Kieran was with Sarah Woods. Jameson sighed; fathers were always the last to know. With an eye-roll for his companion, Kieran snagged the girl’s hand and tugged her toward the door.
“If you get back to school within ten minutes, I won’t make you serve an entire week of detentions.” Jameson shot his son a look that promised they’d talk more about this later, but they were already across the threshold.
“See you later, Coach—I mean—Principal Kincade.”
“Bye, Elle,” Jameson called, watching them dash out of sight. Ten minutes should give them just enough time to get back to the high school—with a bit of time for a quick smooch or two. Jameson wasn’t heartless, no matter what rumors swirled at the high school.
“Teenagers. What are you gonna do, right?” Patrick Lockhart, one of the three owners of Cupid’s Coffeeshop, greeted him when he stepped up to the counter.
“Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them,” Jameson laughed. “My dad used to say that.”
“Chief Kincade just told us a story about you at lunch today,” Zooey Lockhart, Patrick’s sister and co-owner of Cupid’s Coffeeshop, chimed in. Patrick’s sister shared the same dark hair and bright smile but she shared her mischievous sense of humor with her cousin, Joe, the shop’s third owner.
“Surely you didn’t believe a word that old Fire Chief said, did you?” Jameson demurred, wondering which one of his hell-raising episodes his dad had been amusing the locals with this time.
“Said you stole a pickup truck,” Zooey said.
“More like borrowed,” Jameson corrected. “That’s the trouble with living in small towns. Everyone’s got a long memory.”
“Tell me about it,” Joe Lockhart agreed, his blue eyes bright with merriment. “I’m glad I didn’t live here in high school.”
“You were enough of a hellion in middle school,” Jameson agreed easily. “Wasn’t it you who got caught with some spray cans by a newly-painted fence at the library once?”
“Patrick’s the one who got caught,” Joe said, a devil-may-care grin on his face. “I had the sense to run.”
Joy Baker laughed as she tucked the last of her cellophane-wrapped iced pumpkin cookies into the bakery case. She dusted off her hands and walked to the end of the counter, stopping to stand next to Patrick. She worked at the pediatrician’s office but she’d been baking for the coffeeshop to save up for her long-delayed wedding. But, given the way she looked at Patrick, maybe it was a good thing that wedding had been delayed so long. Jameson eyed Patrick’s answering grin. Yes, maybe that was a very good thing indeed.
“What’s your drink of the month?” Jameson asked Joe, who watched Patrick and Joy with the corners of his mouth turned down.
“Pumpkin Spice,” Patrick answered firmly.
Joe rolled his eyes. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“People expect pumpkin this time of year,” Patrick argued back. “It smells great and everyone says it tastes delicious—unlike some of your more memorable creations.”
“I just don’t want to do a basic, boring drink,” Joe complained. “I like to be creative.”
“I think we’ve all suffered your creations long enough,” Patrick sighed. “Zooey, what do you think?”
“I think it’s delicious. What do you think, Joy?”
Joy jolted in surprise at Zooey asking her opinion, her brown curls bobbing, but she nodded. “They are really good and they’ll go with the spiced pumpkin cookies I made.”
“What do you think, Principal Kincade?” Zooey asked.
“I couldn’t say as I haven’t tried it,” Jameson answered as Zooey moved to fiddle with the levers on the hissing coffee maker. “It smells great though. Like my grandma’s on T
hanksgiving morning.”
As the sweet scent of cloves, cinnamon, and ginger rose around them, Patrick and Joy continued to glance at each other and then look away, their color high. Jameson had seen less awkward flirting at the ninth grade social. High school never ends. Joy excused herself to get back to work. As though mesmerized, Patrick watched her depart. Joe, his eyes on his cousin, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, a frown marring his face.
“She’s engaged, Patrick,” Joe said, in a low, worn voice, as though he’d pointed this inconvenient fact out many times before. “It’s not going to happen.”
“I know that,” Patrick snapped.
“You should let Zooey fix you up or Molly’s got some single friends,” Joe pleaded.
“You should tell her,” Jameson heard himself say. Both Joe and Patrick looked up at him, startled, as they seemed to have forgotten he’d been standing there, waiting for his drink. In for a penny, in for a pound. Jameson pressed on. “That’s what I’d tell one of my students. That way, you’re not wondering forever. If she returns your feelings, great. If not, well, take Joe’s advice and put yourself out there.”
Zooey handed Jameson a crimson coffee mug, fragrant steam rising in curls from the top. She pressed a pumpkin cookie into his hand with a smile and Jameson took that as his cue to leave.
He crossed the coffeeshop to take a seat near the window. His interviewee should be here soon. Next to him, a woman sat, reading something on her tablet. Her wrap dress swirled with all the colors of fall—evergreen, russet, amber, and gold. The fabric skimmed her lush curves. A shaft of sunlight caught the golden highlights in her red hair. She glanced up at him, her irises the exact amber of autumn leaves. Lovely.
His advice to Patrick flitted across Jameson’s mind. “Are you new in town?” he blurted, before he could over-think it.
She looked at him, her unusual eyes narrowing a bit, before she answered. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Me too,” Jameson said. “If I wasn’t, could I buy you a cup of coffee?”
She picked up her mug, shook her head and took a pointed sip. “Thanks anyway.”
“Wow. My flirting skills are way rustier than I thought.”
“You’re not doing so badly.” She smiled at him, a genuine warm smile, and Jameson’s pulse fluttered in his wrists. She really was lovely. “I’m Nat Lawson,” she said.
At that, the smile slid off Jameson’s face. “Nat? Nat Lawson?”
“Short for Natalie.” She tilted her head. “I see that’s a surprise, Principal Kincade.”
Chapter Two
As Natalie watched, Jameson Kincade fought hard to hide the shock on his handsome face. His blue eyes—the exact color of her favorite faded pair of jeans—widened only slightly, and he closed his open mouth with a sharp click. He swallowed and raked a hand through his chestnut hair, leaving several cowlicks standing on end. She drew her hands into fists in her lap to stop herself from straightening them.
She had to give him points for trying to conceal his surprise. He’d expected a man. Everyone did. Women just didn’t coach football teams, not the boys’ teams, anyway. Usually the high schools she’d worked at were more than willing to let her coach the powder puff team. After several long seconds ticked by, Natalie finally spoke. “I take it Tim didn’t mention that Nat is short for Natalie and not Nathaniel.”
“No, he didn’t.” Jameson barked out a laugh. He smiled then, a slow grin, and Natalie felt a flash of heat arrow through her. He really was quite nice-looking. If this hadn’t been an interview, she’d certainly have let him buy her a cup of coffee, and maybe more. “I apologize, Ms. Lawson. I don’t normally try to pick up my interviewees.”
Natalie appraised him. Begrudgingly, she gave him points again for being so honest. By dealing with it directly, Jameson dissipated the awkwardness between them. She’d watched him earlier as he’d gotten the two teenagers to head back to school. She bet he was a good principal and even better administrator, with that open, approachable face, just lined enough to make him distinguished but not enough to mar his good looks. What a shame she wouldn’t get the chance to work with him. She found she’d quite like to know him better.
He took a quick sip of his coffee and leveled his blue eyes at her. “So, tell me about your qualifications.”
“Tell me about the job first,” Natalie countered, sipping her own, stone-cold coffee.
“Okay,” Jameson agreed easily. “I’ve got a varsity football team without a head coach. After losing fifteen games straight, my head coach just up and quit last week. We’ve got five more games to go this season and I’m not even sure if I should bother to have my boys suit up.”
“Fifteen games?”
“Yep. The Panthers haven’t won this season or last.” Jameson snapped his iced pumpkin cookie in half and offered her a piece. Natalie took it, their fingers brushing. Their eyes met and held for a heartbeat. “It’s been a long, dry spell.”
Natalie cleared her throat. Surely she imagined the personal implication in those words. “Tim said you coached. Why don’t you do it?”
“I coached baseball. Football isn’t my game. It never has been.” Jameson shook his head. “I like watching it but coaching’s beyond me. And, even if I wasn’t swamped with being the principal, my son’s on the team.”
“You couldn’t coach your son?”
“Kieran is at the age where Dad knows nothing at all,” Jameson shrugged. “We barely get along as it is. I think it’d be worse if I tried to coach him.”
Natalie blinked when she realized the boy from earlier was his son. She glanced at Jameson’s long fingers, still absently tapping on the table, but saw no sign of a ring. “Why not let your assistant coaches do it?”
“That’s what I planned to do until Tim called and suggested I meet with the great football god Nat Lawson.” Jameson leaned back in his chair, his gaze open and direct. “Here I am. Tell me about you, Nat.”
“Okay. I did my undergraduate degree in education, with a double major in physical education. I started the classwork last year for my masters in physical ed.”
“So you more than meet the educational requirements,” Jameson said. “What about experience?”
“I’ve taught at a small school in Virginia Beach—that’s where I’m from—for the last five years. St. Mary’s Academy. In addition to teaching PE, I’ve coached lacrosse, softball, and soccer. All three teams made post-season championships.”
“Sounds like a great job. And it sounds like you’re pretty good at it too.” Jameson pinned her with those blue eyes. He took a slow sip of coffee again and Natalie forced herself not to watch his lips. Jameson Kincade was far too handsome for his own good. “Why are you here?”
“I coached the powder puff team for three years. We’ve never lost.” Natalie blew out a breath. “When the JV football coaching position opened at St. Mary’s, I applied.”
“And you didn’t get it?”
“I’ll spare you the rant about misogyny in sports, but no.” Even now, Natalie’s cheeks felt hot when she remembered the patronizing way the committee explained why they’d chosen a less qualified man over her.
“Well, much as I enjoy a good misogynistic rant, I repeat my question. You have a good job, at a school you like, in your hometown.” Jameson tapped his fingers on the wooden table, a brief staccato beat. “Why would you apply for a temporary job here?”
“I didn’t spare the principal at the Academy the rant.”
Jameson barked out a laugh, his eyes sparkling. “So you were fired?”
“I quit.” Natalie’s shoulders stiffened and then she sighed. “But it amounts to the same. If they gave it to someone more qualified, that I could accept but…”
“I understand,” Jameson said. “Sounds like their loss.”
“Thanks.” Natalie’s cheeks still felt hot and she took a bite of the cookie she still held in her hand, letting the flavors of fall explode over her tongue.
&n
bsp; Jameson drew in a breath. “You’d have to pick up a round of PE classes as well. Freshman and sophomore girls.”
“That’s fine.”
“You’re awful brave.” Jameson flashed her that grin again, sending another flash of heat through her. “You understand that this is a temporary fix. You’d be a substitute for the duration. We’ll have to go through a longer, more formal hiring process, with the school board next year. I can’t guarantee you a long-term job.”
“But you can guarantee me a chance to coach football. Varsity football.”
“That I can.” Jameson said. “Can you start tomorrow?”
Natalie wanted to get up and dance a jig around the table in victory. She’d finally, finally have her own team. Then, his question sank in. “Tomorrow?”
“The next game is Friday.”
“Four days away?” Natalie gasped and then, setting her shoulders, nodded. “I drove up from Virginia Beach this morning so if you’ll just point me in the direction of a hotel, I’ll get settled in and…”
“Ashford Falls doesn’t have a hotel. The closest place is about a half-hour away,” Jameson cut in. “We’re rather a small town, though the suburbs are building up a bit now.”
Natalie chewed her bottom lip. The prospect of sleeping in her car didn’t appeal to her but she’d do anything to get her chance at coaching.
“I do know of a rental here in town though.” Jameson cocked his head to the side. “Furnished and everything. My neighbor reconnected with her long lost love and they’re touring the country in an RV.”
“That sounds like an interesting story,” Natalie murmured.
“I’ll tell it you sometime, if you promise to let me hear that rant.” Jameson smirked at her before tapping the screen on his smartphone. “Let me give the realtor a call for you.”
Natalie waited while he chatted easily with the person on the phone. He hung up. “Autumn Knight will be here to show you that rental in about twenty minutes. I’ve gotta head back.”
Pumpkin Spice (Cupid's Coffeeshop Book 10) Page 1
