Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2)

by Katie Cross

  “Today?”

  He nodded. “We’ll notify our customers interested in catering that we’re offering bulk orders and wedding catering for baked goods only. We’ll provide shipments of supplies to Adventura, since your health inspection document is already on file from the summer.”

  Well, no putting this off anymore, I thought. Mark had to know about my idea. Immanuel studied me as Grant reached for the éclairs with a piece of tissue paper and arranged them in the display case.

  “Everything okay?” Immanuel drawled. “You’ve received your brother’s approval to use the kitchen at your summer camp to fulfill catering orders for us, correct?”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  Immanuel eyed me. “Because if not, we have a backup. Darlene down in Territory is ready anytime. We’d prefer you, of course, because there’s less travel time for the pastries but—”

  “Not necessary. I’ll sign right now to prove it.”

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “Very well. I had my attorney draw up the contract last week, just in case. Let me grab it. It details compensation based on order price and lasts for a year.”

  While Immanuel went to the back, Grant took his place with a broad smile. We chatted for a few minutes about ski traffic and what was selling the most. Before I’d really recovered my composure, Immanuel returned, slid the contract across the table, and handed me a pen.

  For a full five seconds, I stared at the words on the page without comprehending them.

  This was not what I’d expected from this trip. A signed contract today? Of course, why not? In their eyes, it was all ready to go. I’d successfully baked and transported all their recipes to their satisfaction. Both of us were confident in my work, and they stood to benefit as much as I did.

  Except Mark knew nothing about it.

  “Everything good?” Immanuel asked as I fiddled with the pen cap.

  My eyes scoured the words, moving quickly. Everything was as simple and straightforward as we’d discussed. It basically guaranteed my availability for the next year, that I’d keep the kitchen up to all health code standards or assume liability myself, and never share their recipes. They’d have supplies delivered so I wouldn’t have to keep running to the grocery store on their behalf.

  How this would work in the summer at Adventura, I had no idea. There were a lot of things I didn’t know. But if I didn’t do it, the opportunity would go to their backup person. This was too perfectly convenient to my climbing lifestyle to give up.

  So I signed it.

  Once I finished, Immanuel pulled the contract back. Then he gave me a check for compensation for the tests and the last five desserts I’d brought in. He also handed me a book with a copy of all their super-secret recipes created in the years before his gluten issue developed.

  A half smile crossed Immanuel’s face. “Welcome to the team, JJ. You’re our first official overflow baker. We’ve already had an order of croissants and pain au chocolat come in for a local business meeting with realtors. Information is in the email I’ll send after you leave.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  “Expect delivery tomorrow afternoon!” Immanuel called as I headed out the door. I waved to acknowledge it, but my mind was already spinning. How would Mark feel about me signing a contract on behalf of Adventura? He was the official owner. While I’d helped, the camp was in his name.

  He’d certainly had plenty of crazy ideas of his own that I’d gone along with. He probably wouldn’t care.

  I hoped.

  “Everything go okay with your sister?”

  Lizbeth nodded with a tight smile as she climbed into the truck. I almost invited her to sit next to me again, but she quickly put her seat belt on and looked straight ahead, her hands under her thighs and her lips pressed together in a thin line.

  Something hadn’t gone well.

  “Good,” I said for lack of anything else.

  The engine roared as I pulled away from the café and headed down the highway and into the canyon. My concern over the café deal faded in the uncomfortable silence. My inability to read Lizbeth was a heady reminder that, for all my happy feelings about her, we still didn’t know each other that well.

  “Were you glad to see her?” I asked just to break the ice.

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah. It’s always good to catch up. I’ve missed her.”

  “You’re close.”

  She nodded.

  Quiet fell over us again. I let it ride this time, unsure of what to say or how to ask what it meant. I’d forgotten how awkward relationships could be. Forgotten about the battle between what I wanted to say and what was probably safe to say. Then again, I could always channel my inner Mark and just say whatever the hell I wanted.

  Sometimes that actually worked out for him, but I blamed ninety percent of his relationship failures on his mouth.

  Instead, I let the silence accompany us back to Adventura.

  We pulled in, and Lizbeth didn’t look at me when she said, “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go to bed. Thanks for the ride, JJ. I appreciate the chance to talk to Ellie.”

  Before I could tell her to sleep well, she shut the door and walked around the outside of the office to head to her cabin. I stared at the dark spot where she’d disappeared. A heavy feeling told me something wasn’t right.

  Shaking my head, I pushed that off. Mark and I had unfinished business to deal with now. I’d focus on that first.

  Mark was sitting behind his desk, a perplexed expression on his face, when I stepped inside.

  “Seriously, JJ, when did the office start to smell good?” he asked.

  No papers or office supplies were scattered across his workspace. Not even three different pens and four colors of highlighters. He looked totally out of place in the clean landscape. The wood of the desk, which had been hidden beneath the layers of dust he’d allowed to collect, had turned out to be cherry. Now, it gleamed a gorgeous red.

  “When Lizbeth started.” I peeled my coat off. “She lights a candle thing all the time.”

  Mark glanced at my jacket as I hung it on a peg—a whittled bear—that had appeared on the wall one day after lunch. It had kept our chairs blessedly unburdened. They didn’t topple over quite as much.

  “Oh,” he said as if he’d also just noticed that peg. “Where is she?”

  “Just went to bed.”

  The Zombie Mobile keys clattered when I tossed them into a multicolored clay bowl on the makeshift table. Himalayan, Lizbeth had said, claiming she’d found it under some junk in the spare room. I seriously doubted that, but loved the aesthetic all the same.

  “I’m a little worried.” Mark peered at the desk as if it held the answers to the universe. “I’m running out of work for her. She’s been getting the website and investor dashboard up like a crazy person. She has a website for a spa that hasn’t even been approved yet. How wild is that? And it looks freaking good.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “I don’t really want her to go, do you? But if I can’t drum up something else, she’ll be gone soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Dunno. By the end of the week at the latest.”

  I almost choked on my tongue. “The end of the week? What?”

  He nodded, his face a picture of concern. “Yeah. She’s been pretty great to have, don’t you think? Like, I actually have a desk now and someone who doesn’t put up with all my crap. What am I going to do? Just bulldoze over people again?”

  “Probably.”

  He sighed. “I’ll try to come up with something. Maybe I need to create a new business for her to run. Think she’d take the spa? Because that would be awesome. Wait, doesn’t she have a job coming up?”

  “Not sure if she’s heard back yet.”

  He eyed me. “Huh. How are things between you?”

  Actually, I didn’t know. They’d been magical. Even romantic. But after our drive back tonight, I wasn’t sure where she stood. Lizbeth alwa
ys had a sense of hesitation about her, but now it was amplified.

  The couch groaned when I collapsed onto it.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. I think they’re good.”

  “Good, as in dating?” His grin lit up the office.

  “Not necessarily.”

  “So you’re not dating?”

  “Well, not that, either.”

  “You’re a friggin’ mess, JJ. Why did you wait so long to get over Stacey? Now you’re going to be all awkward with Lizbeth.”

  I threw a pillow at him. He chucked it back, but I blocked it.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that I had an interesting offer come our way yesterday.” Mark stacked his hands behind his head. “Wanted to see what you thought, because they’re waiting on me to call back after I reach out to the board.”

  My mouth closed. The board?

  “What is it?”

  “A company wants to contract to use our kitchen in the off-season. Weird, right? Never thought about that before.”

  Several moments passed before I could assemble that in my head.

  “Wait. What?”

  He shrugged. “Apparently kitchen space is at a premium, and we have that paperwork filed with the state. Companies will rent out kitchens to do bulk orders. Anyway, it’s a health-food granola company starting out of Jackson City. You’ve been on me for a while to use Adventura in different ways, right? They’ll pay us to use the kitchen.”

  What were the odds?

  Was this a coincidence?

  “Also,” Mark continued as he tossed a wad of paper into the air, “I had an idea about horses, but ask me about that later.”

  My throat felt sticky as I tried to form the words. Mark wouldn’t be angry about my idea to do basically the same thing, but he might be upset that I’d not mentioned it to him before. Or that I’d signed that contract without his permission.

  The whole we-live-each-other’s-lives thing always got in the way.

  “So, about that idea.” I cleared my throat. “It’s a great idea, actually. Ah . . . I sort of just signed a contract on behalf of Adventura’s kitchen and have a proposal for you that’s similar.”

  He paused mid-throw.

  “What?”

  With a deep breath, I said, “I . . . I’ve been experimenting for the past few months with some bakery recipes. Patisserie stuff. Petit fours, croissants, that sort of thing. One day while in Jackson City, I stopped at Le Grand Boulangerie and tried a few things. The owners and I started to talk. Eventually they mentioned that they wanted to start catering but didn’t have the space.”

  Mark stared at me with a glass expression, which was the first red flag. Mark’s face always showed emotion. The absence of it was reason enough to run.

  Second, his jaw was ticking.

  Deciding that getting it over with was best, I pushed through the worst part.

  “I told them I’d like to try making some of their recipes to see if I could help them out, so they sent some with me. As you said, we have paperwork filed with the state health department for our kitchen that allows us to make commercial food, so I tried a few things—tarts, cakes, cupcakes—and took it back to them.” I shrugged. “They liked what they saw. So they asked if I’d like to partner with them.”

  His other eyebrow rose. “Partner with them?” he repeated dully.

  “Just in catering. They’ve wanted to open up to big catering orders but don’t have the space. You know how cramped downtown Jackson City is. So they’re looking into a build-out or buying space somewhere else. But they’d like to test the process and build their revenue. They liked the way I baked—”

  “—so they want you to cater from Adventura.”

  I hated it when he connected the dots ahead of me. His toneless voice sounded so much like Dad’s did when we got busted for doing something stupid.

  “Yes. I thought I’d give Adventura a cut of each order. That way I can work and climb and still help out here but actually make some money. Eventually, I have to figure out my own life. This may be the path to that.”

  Mark frowned. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Two months?”

  His eyes widened. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You’ve been so focused on everything else. I didn’t know if this would go anywhere. I mean, c’mon, Mark. You’ve eaten a little of everything that I fixed. It’s not like I hid it.”

  “But you did. For two months you’ve been sneaking behind my back with plans you never shared with me.”

  He stood, hands planted on the desk. The defensive posture wasn’t unexpected. Mark had anger, but not aggression. He had the weight and strength advantage, but not speed or stamina. For brothers, we’re strangely well matched in a fight. This could definitely come to fists.

  Stupider things had in the past.

  “I haven’t been hiding it,” I said. “I just haven’t been discussing it. I’ve tried to bring it up a few times, but the best I was able to do was mention doing something else with Adventura. Then something always came up to distract you.”

  He shook his head and took a step back, raising his hands. “I’m done, bro. This is insulting. First of all, it’s not yours to contract out.”

  “I know that, and I’m sorry. They sort of sprung the contract on me and I didn’t want to lose the chance. I hate the idea of not having a job all winter, and Adventura is largely your idea. I love helping with it, but it’s your baby.”

  “Well, now you may be in breach of contract with the bakery. Hope there’s no fine associated with that. Also, screw you for not claiming Adventura. This was for both of us. The board has to approve your contract, by the way. What are you going to do in the summer when we need the kitchen to feed the staff and the campers?”

  “I haven’t worked through that yet.”

  “And are you giving up your position as a counselor?”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “No, of course not.”

  “So how’s that going to work?”

  “I-I don’t know yet.”

  “But you signed a contract anyway.” His eyes flashed. “After going behind my back to partner with someone else. Douchebag move, brother.”

  With a growl, he stormed out the back door. The screen slammed against the wall with a crack, then whipped shut.

  I winced, stung at the betrayal in his expression.

  27

  Lizbeth

  The fire crackled the next morning as I sat on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My conversation with Ellie had played through my mind all night. Finally, at four thirty, I’d built up the fire and mentally thanked Justin for restocking my woodpile. Then I’d sat in a ball of blankets and tried to disappear into a romance novel.

  JJ intruded on my thoughts too much.

  He seemed close enough to touch, but so far away at the same time. I’d been so distant yesterday and hadn’t explained myself. Guilt flooded my chest. Then regret. He’d been startled. Confused. I could see it in his eyes when I didn’t sit next to him, then didn’t speak.

  How could I explain what I hadn’t even sorted through myself?

  The uncertain side of romance really sucked. I’d always waved it off when the heroines experienced it in the novels. Said it was necessary for character development and made the story better. Now? I only felt miserable, confused, and terribly uncertain.

  A ding from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. Ten o’clock. I’d lounged all morning in my cozy little cabin with frost on the windows, but now I had another ugly reality to face. With great effort, I shoved JJ to the back of my head, pulled in a deep breath, and let it all out in one great whoosh.

  Time for my call with Dad.

  The door to my cabin was locked, the radio turned off. I pulled the curtains, too, just in case. Couldn’t imagine how horrified I’d feel if JJ or Mark came to ask me something and saw an inmate in a bright orange jumpsuit who happened to be my father. The whole situation was embarrassing.

  �
��I can talk to Dad and not be confused,” I chanted as I navigated to the appropriate web page. “I can talk to Dad and not be confused.”

  For fifteen or so minutes every December, we met on a videochat. I gave him updates, and the call ended. Every time I sent him a letter or joined our yearly call, two parts of my heart spoke to me. Are you crazy? one half of me said. That man would have killed you if you hadn’t gotten out of there. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse.

  That part was totally true.

  The other half said, But there were good times, and that was also totally true.

  Something in me couldn’t let go of those good times. They’d been few and far between. Fleeting, like glimpses of sunshine in a rainstorm. But he was my father.

  Ellie didn’t know I’d kept up an erratic correspondence. At least, I didn’t think she did. At first, my therapist had suggested I reach out. For some reason, I felt better after talking to him. Like I didn’t have to erase a part of me or pretend it hadn’t happened. I was already trying so hard to erase Mama.

  The prison had an online system that allowed me to videochat him for a small fee. I never really looked forward to it, but felt obligated all the same. The calls were mostly dry and stilted, but they satisfied the part of me that couldn’t pretend like he didn’t exist.

  Today, however, our talk might actually be helpful.

  The call rang, and my stomach gave a nervous flip before I answered it. Only a few seconds passed before the picture cleared, bringing Dad into focus with his usual orange jumpsuit, buzzed hair, and pale expression. While he was offered outdoors time every day, it didn’t seem like he took it.

  In the five years since he’d been sentenced, he’d grown gaunt. Hollows had appeared in his cheeks and dark lines under his eyes. He’d never really been conversational while I was growing up, but was even less so now.

  I conjured a smile.

  “Hey.”

  He cleared his throat. “Hi. Good to see you.”

  Is it? I wanted to ask. He remained classically stoic and unreadable.