The Coffee Girl

by Shanna Hatfield

  The dog dropped onto his belly and whined when he felt the threat of danger to Brenna was past. He rolled onto his side, exposing his neck in a submissive move. Brock took a slow step toward the dog, talking softly to him.

  Gently, he placed a hand on the dog’s back and waited for it to snap or bite. When it didn’t, Brock stroked the dog’s back, continuing to talk to him.

  “Hey, Mutt, are you ready to be friends, now?” Brock asked, working his way slowly toward the dog’s head with his hands. “We won’t hurt you, boy, but we’d like to help you.”

  Brenna observed Brock’s easy touch with the dog. A man that patient and gentle would be an excellent father with his nurturing, caring manner. If she hadn’t been in love with him before, seeing the way he handled the stray dog would have pushed her over the edge.

  Swiftly deciding the animal could only welcome one human at a time, Brenna stayed back as Brock worked to win over the dog. When he started scratching the mutt behind his ears, then on his belly, Brenna knew Brock had made a best friend for life. The dog looked at him as if he was a hero. The canine’s tongue lolled out the side of his mouth in doggy ecstasy.

  “So, you think I’m a friend and not a foe?” Brock asked the dog as he continued rubbing and scratching him. The mutt appeared to be in a state of pure bliss by the goofy expression on his face. Brock turned to Brenna and held out a hand. “I think it’s safe for you to come pet him, if you want to.”

  “You bet I do.” Brenna eased her way over to the dog and offered him encouraging words while she rubbed his ears and head. The dog sighed and held perfectly still while they touched him.

  “Brock?” Brenna breathed through her mouth and turned her face away from the dog.

  “Yeah?”

  “He really needs a bath.”

  “I noticed that, coffee girl, but what do you suggest?”

  “I’m not sure. I suppose we need to wait a few days until he can trust us before we get too carried away.” Brenna took a shallow breath to avoid inhaling the dog’s stench.

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Brock stood and pulled Brenna up with him. The dog opened one eye and watched them before returning to his nap.

  Later that afternoon, Brenna was in the backyard with a hose watering some of the flowers she’d helped Brock plant the previous weekend. The dog seemed to love the water, chasing the stream as Brenna sprayed it, jumping through the droplets.

  “Brock, do you have a something we could use as a washtub?” Brenna called toward the back door. Brock stuck his head outside and noticed the dog’s antics.

  “Be right there.” He hurried into the garage and returned with a big aluminum tub he mostly used as a container to hold ice and drinks when he and the guys held a party.

  He filled it part way with hot water and added a squirt of soap before carrying it out to the backyard. Brenna added cool water until Brock was satisfied it was just the right temperature.

  Then they tried to coax the dog into the tub.

  Despite their valiant efforts, he ran around them barking and yipping. The dog was anxious to play, but not take a bath.

  “See if he’ll chase a stick,” Brenna suggested. “If he does, you could throw it into the water.”

  “We can try.” Brock found a stick on the creek bank and tossed it for the dog to chase. The mutt quickly retrieved it and brought it back to Brock, wagging his entire rear end at the game.

  Brock threw it a few more times around the backyard, each time getting it closer to the washtub where Brenna waited. When he threw it in, the dog leaped into the air to catch it just as Brenna stood up to get out of the way. The force of his momentum carried the dog into the tub with such a huge splash that it drenched Brenna in soapy water. She looked like a soggy kitten.

  Brock rushed to the tub to keep the dog in and started scrubbing the canine while Brenna pushed dripping curls out of her face. His uncontrollable laughter was met with a stony glare from her. Eventually, her pout turned into a bubble of laughter and soon she laughed as hard as Brock while they bathed the dog.

  They were both soaked to the skin by the time they were done, but a much cleaner dog stood looking up at them with a happy canine grin.

  “Mutt, you don’t look half bad without several coats of grime,” Brock observed as they studied the dog. He was still a mutt mix but his coat was mostly white with flecks of tan and brown. One front paw, his tail and part of one ear held reddish brown splotches. He barked and gave himself a good shake, further wetting down Brock and Brenna before they could towel him dry.

  “Enough, I can’t take anymore!” Brenna got to her feet, sodden and somewhat grossed out by the odors clinging to her hands. “I think I smell worse than the dog now and I know I’m wetter than he is. I’m going home.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Brock teased, handing her a couple of old towels to dry off with and another to place on the seat of her car.

  “It’s a little soggy at the moment.” Brenna walked around to the front of the house and carefully slid into her car after covering the seat. “I’ll call you later, construction man. Thanks for another fun day.”

  “Anytime, coffee girl.” Brock shut her door then leaned in the open window to give her a kiss. “Thanks for coming over and helping me tame the wild beast.”

  Brenna laughed as she drove off and Brock, along with the dog, watched her car until it turned the corner at the end of the street. He noticed the worrisome widows looking his direction and offered them a friendly wave before returning to clean up the mess in the backyard.

  After years of waiting, it looked like he finally had a dog.

  Brock placed ads in the newspaper for a found dog, hung flyers around town and posted a photo of the dog online. When no one responded to his efforts to find the mutt’s owner, he decided to claim the dog as his own.

  He took him to the vet for his shots, bought him a nametag and collar, and built the dog a house that was painted the same shade of white with green trim as the house.

  One afternoon, he watched Brenna rub her hand over the dog’s head and felt a sharp pang of jealousy. He wasn’t completely convinced Brenna didn’t come to visit the dog instead of him these days, although she did still feed him.

  Right now, he could smell the delicious scent of pastries that would soon come out of the oven as it drifted through the open kitchen window.

  When she leaned down and whispered something to Mutt, the dog looked at Brock and gave his happy bark, wagging his tail.

  “He said we should play a game of tag,” Brenna said, looking at Brock with a mischievous grin. “Mutt thinks together we can take you on.”

  “Is that right? The two of you against me? That doesn’t seem quite fair.” Brock leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his rich, dark coffee. “Maybe I should fetch the worrisome widows to help you out, even the odds.”

  Brenna laughed. “You are so conceited, construction man. You’re going down.”

  “You and what army is going to take me?” Brock stood from his chair and pulled Brenna to her feet.

  “The army of Mutt.” Brenna slapped her leg to call the dog and jumped off the porch. She and the dog raced around to the front yard with Brock hot on their heels. Brenna ran and dodged, squealed and twisted while Mutt ran circles around both humans, barking and wagging his tail at the fun.

  When Brock finally caught Brenna, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Gotcha, coffee girl.” His resistance wavered as her chest heaved against his, setting his blood on fire.

  “Yes, you do,” she said on a whisper, her eyes locked on his mouth.

  Explosions of heat and longing burst between them when his lips touched hers. Brenna drew in a sharp gasp. The vision in her dreams was this exact moment in time, this wonderful, unbelievable moment with Brock.

  Her dream had always included a beautiful cottage-style home in the background as a man with broad shoulders and dark hair held her while a gangly mutt ran around
their feet. The smell of coffee and fresh baked pastries hung in the air, along with a hint of cedar and some other scent, Brock’s scent. She knew beyond any doubt the man in her dreams had been Brock all along.

  “Brock, it’s you,” she said cryptically, kissing him with a growing fervor in front of the dog, the worrisome widows, and anyone who cared to glance down the street.

  “Of course, it’s me,” Brock whispered in a husky tone against her lips. “Who else did you expect?”

  Brenna smiled and sighed in contentment, resting her head on his shoulder.

  When she raised her eyes to his, she looked at him with such heat, such love, Brock found it nearly impossible to draw in a breath.

  “I love you.” Brenna wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close.

  Shocked by her words, he pushed her back so he could look into her face. Uncertain if he heard her correctly, he needed to hear the words again to be sure.

  “Would you mind repeating that?” he asked quietly, hoping she would.

  Surprised every bit as much as Brock by her admission, she looked at him, considering his request. She read the emotion on his face, saw that he merely wanted confirmation she meant what she said.

  Standing on tiptoe, she pulled his head down so his ear was close to her lips and whispered, “I love you, Brock McCrae.”

  “I love you, Brenna, my lovely coffee girl.” Brock grasped her waist in his big hands and swung her around and around in the yard, making her giggle.

  The worrisome widows stood at the end of Mrs. Phillips front yard to see what all the commotion was about. They merely shook their heads as they gazed at the young couple. Mrs. Hearst grinned broadly while Mrs. Phillips worked to contain her smile.

  Brock noticed them outside and waved one hand to them before sweeping Brenna into his arms and carrying her inside the house.

  “That will give them something to gossip about for at least a week.” Brenna smiled as Brock set her down in the living room.

  “Maybe two.” He nuzzled her neck as his hands toyed with her hair. Enticingly, she pressed against his chest. Brock leaned down to claim another kiss when Brenna suddenly popped her eyes open wide and ran through the house to the kitchen. Puzzled and a little disappointed, he followed and stepped into the kitchen just in time to see her pull the pan of pastries from the oven.

  “Saved, just in the nick of time.” She grinned, setting the pastries on a hot pad on the counter. “You’ll have to learn not to distract me when I’m cooking or things can burn in a hurry.”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Brock tugged her closer for another sizzling kiss. With her declaration of love, who cared about a few burned berry tarts?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Boss, she’s here,” said one of Brock’s construction crew as he watched for Brenna to come inside the shop with their morning sustenance. If they had no more delays, the bistro would be ready to open in just a few weeks, right on time.

  While McCrae’s Construction labored on the bistro, Brenna worked to perfect her recipes and often brought samples for the men. She told them they provided a great service by being taste-testers. They thought she was an angel with the ability to turn ordinary ingredients into extraordinary wonders of palatable delight.

  Every last one of Brock’s rough and tumble crew would do anything for his lovely little coffee girl.

  The men stopped their work, eager to discover what treat Brenna would share with them that morning. Brock was as willing as any of them to eat her creations, but he always waited until the other guys had their fill before taking a serving.

  Brenna’s eyes lit with pleasure as she saw Brock. The look she gave him sent heat spiraling from his head right down to his boot-clad feet. He had no idea when he took the job for Letty that he’d end up falling in love with the girl who wanted to open a bistro.

  Of course, he also had no idea that Letty’s daughter was the same girl who had captivated him from the coffee shop. Normally, Brock had stopped at a different coffee shop but he recalled with clarity the particular day he had missed the exit for his usual stop and took the next one. The moment he walked inside, he noticed Brenna in the crowd, waiting impatiently in line, yet still seeming sweet and fun. It took him all of one day to decide to switch coffee shops and by the end of the week, he knew his coffee girl always ordered a Chai latte.

  His coffee girl.

  He liked the sound of that. As soon as they finished with this project, Brock planned to have a little conversation with Brenna’s dad and request permission to marry his youngest daughter. Old-fashioned as it might seem, Brock wanted to do things right and that was step one in his plan in making Brenna his wife, if she agreed to have him.

  Lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when he felt her arms slide around his waist and her scent float through his senses.

  “Thinking deep thoughts this morning, I see,” Brenna teased, turning her warm gaze to his with a sassy smile.

  “Absolutely. If you leave me alone until noon, I’m pretty sure I’ll have a cure for the common cold and figured out world peace,” Brock joked, giving Brenna a hug and kissing the crown of her head.

  “I’ll leave you to your thinking, then.” She pretended to pull away, but Brock held her close.

  “In case I haven’t told you, the guys can hardly wait for you to arrive with your samples every morning. It’s going to be a hard, hard thing for them to work anywhere else after being spoiled by the three Smith ladies, particularly you.” Brock grinned at Brenna. He leaned down closer to her ear and whispered in a husky, seductive voice that made her turn languid in a heartbeat. “But me, you can spoil all you want, any time you want.”

  “You’re spoiled enough, you arrogant man.” Brenna playfully smacked Brock’s chest, seeking a distraction from her overwhelming need to kiss him. “Now, tell me again how you can’t live without me and I’ll get out of your hair for the day.”

  Brock dropped down to one knee and took her hand in his. He gazed at her with an exaggerated appearance of adoration as he recited:

  Oh, lovely coffee girl divine,

  You alone doth make the sun so shine,

  And beat upon this lowly heart of mine,

  My lovely coffee girl.

  The look on his face was one of devilment and his eyes twinkled with mischief as his crew clapped and whistled.

  Heat seared her cheeks as Brenna’s face turned six shades of red then buried her face in her hands. Brock got to his feet and enfolded her in a hug. He nudged up her chin with an index finger and winked at her.

  “You get the idea, coffee girl?” Tenderly, he tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

  “I think I do.” She released a happy sigh. “I didn’t realize you were such a talented poet. Are you sure you haven’t studied Shakespeare?”

  “Nope.” He would never admit suffering through two years of drama class in high school thanks to his mother’s insistence on a well-rounded education. “It must be the inspiration.”

  Rattled, Brenna waved goodbye to the men, gathered the dirty dishes and let Brock carry the box out for her.

  Soundly kissing her before she got in the car, he waved as she drove down the street. Brock felt challenged to concentrate on work after their passionate exchange — just like he had every other day since he’d met Brenna.

  “Is it true Brock spouted an impromptu love poem to you at the store this morning?” Avery asked when Brenna picked up the phone.

  “Possibly.” Brock’s theatrics left Brenna in an elated state of happiness.

  “That is just about the most romantic thing, ever.” Avery’s excitement carried over the phone connection. “You’re not going to let him get away are you?”

  “Not if I can help it.” Brenna hoped once the bistro opened Brock would make a declaration of his intentions. Aware of his old-fashioned values, she assumed he wouldn’t say anything until the job was finished.

  “If you need to tie him up, I know where Gr
eg keeps some rope,” Avery offered, making Brenna laugh.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Brenna grinned as she packed the lunch she made for the guys at the site. “I’ll be there with lunch in a few minutes. Do you need anything?”

  “I have the oddest craving for salted caramel chocolate squares, the ones they sell down at Mrs. Rooney’s shop.”

  “It’s no trouble to run by and grab you a few.” Brenna wondered when Avery had developed such a sweet tooth. Last week, she devoured an entire bag of miniature Mounds bars and only let Brenna steal two.

  “I’d really appreciate it, if you’re sure it isn’t any trouble.”

  “Consider it done.” Brenna hung up the phone and loaded the lunch supplies in her car. After swinging by to pick up Avery’s candy, she arrived at the shop promptly at noon. Eager hands met her at the door, ready to take the lunch offerings off her hands. She gave Brock a big smile and a quick kiss then ran up the stairs to Avery’s store, handing her the candy.

  “You are a lifesaver.” Avery unwrapped a piece of the candy then bit into it like it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

  “Anytime. At least until I open the bistro and spend all my time here.” Brenna wandered around Avery’s store, noticing some changes her sister recently made in the flower shop’s layout. “I love how you’ve set up your displays, they look so pretty. Is business going okay?”

  “It’s going really well. I’ve had more customers here in the past month than I had in three months at my old location.” Avery took another piece of chocolate from the bag. “I’m glad Mom agreed to hire a couple of people part-time that we can share. It will be nice to have some extra hands to float between the three businesses as needed.”

  “I think it’s going to work out really well.” Brenna was so excited about finally opening the bistro. They planned to have a big grand opening celebration with an open house in three weeks. Brock said if all the work passed the inspections, Brenna should be able to start bringing in the supplies and testing out equipment next week.