The Solid Grounds Coffee Company

by Carla Laureano

  “Fine. Let’s just hope he doesn’t show up in a suit.”

  “He won’t,” Rachel said. “The Cellar is upscale casual. He’ll be appropriately dressed.”

  “How do you know?” Ana asked.

  Melody cocked her head. “You’re really nervous about this one, aren’t you? This guy must be special.”

  “He’s just a guy. I mean, a really good-looking guy, but a guy all the same. I’m not even sure if there are sparks yet.” Ana took the hangers from Melody and retreated into her bathroom, where she took off her robe and hopped herself into the stretchy, tight-fitting jeans. She pulled the sweater on, then appeared back in the doorway. “Good?”

  “Perfect. Just need some jewelry.” Melody rummaged through Ana’s jewelry chest and pulled out a couple of bangles and a pair of long, delicate earrings. “Here. You’re all set.”

  Ana put them on and took a look in the mirror. “Okay. I think I’m ready. Grab me the ivory clutch and my white snakeskin Manolos, will you?”

  Melody retrieved the items, giddy at getting to play in Ana’s closet, and plopped them on the bed. “I’m almost jealous. I miss this first-date thing.”

  “Oh, please,” Ana said, sliding her feet into the heels. “Justin is perfect. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

  “That’s true, but we’re already in the established-relationship phase. I miss the butterflies.”

  “More kissing,” Rachel said.

  Melody laughed. “Trust me, there is plenty of kissing going on. But you know, as romantic as candlelit dinners in bare feet can be, I liked that first-date anticipation. The excitement of a new relationship.”

  Ana touched up her lipstick and dropped it into her clutch, stuffing in her wallet while she was at it. “No relationship, just a date. And on that note, I have to go.”

  “Isn’t he picking you up?” Melody asked. “I was hoping to get a peek.”

  “Meeting him in the lobby. Guys don’t get the condo number until at least a month in.” She drilled them with a stare. “And no hanging out to get a glimpse.”

  “Okay, okay. We’re going, we promise.” Melody gathered her purse and nodded for Rachel to come with her. “Text us the minute you get home.”

  “I will.” Ana hugged her friends goodbye and saw them to the front door, then unplugged her cell phone from where it was charging on the counter. It rang almost immediately, as if it were waiting to be picked up.

  “Hey.” Bryan’s voice, warm and familiar, came through the handset, bringing a smile to her face.

  “Hey! I didn’t expect you. It came up as a private number.”

  “Oh, sorry. My phone is dead so I called from the home line. Am I interrupting anything?”

  Ana checked her watch. Still five minutes until seven. “I’ve got a couple minutes. What’s up?”

  “I am heading to Missouri on Monday to look at a drum roaster. Do you want to come?”

  Ana blinked. “Uh, like a road trip?”

  “Exactly like a road trip. Fly out early on Monday, stay overnight in St. Louis, drive the equipment back on Tuesday.”

  Two days with Bryan. Two days alone, with an overnight. Separate rooms, of course, but still . . . Then she focused on the more important part of the statement. “Wait, did you hear from Adrian?”

  “He emailed me this afternoon, said the paperwork was on its way to his lawyer. We should have the funds on Monday.”

  A beep came through on her phone and she pulled it away to check the preview screen. A text from Adrian: he had arrived and was waiting for her in the lobby.

  “Wow. That’s great news. That was fast. Let me think about it and get back to you, okay?”

  “Okay. Call me tomorrow.”

  Ana said her goodbye and hung up the phone, holding it for a long moment before she dropped it into her bag. That was . . . odd. Not just the invitation, but the timing. He knew she was going out with Adrian tonight. Had he wanted to be the one to break the news that the deal was going through ahead of schedule? Or was he just nervous about spending a chunk of not-yet-verified change on a roaster?

  She was still turning over the matter in her head when she rode down the elevator and emerged into the lobby. Adrian stood there in the corner, hands in his pockets, looking out the window. Rachel had been right: he was wearing slacks, but with an untucked button-down and a pair of very expensive shoes. Just dressy enough for a date, just casual enough for their destination. He turned at the sound of her heels clicking across the marble floor and smiled.

  Well. He was definitely handsome, she’d give him that.

  He approached her and leaned down to kiss her cheek in greeting, giving her a whiff of a recognizable, high-end cologne. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.” She waved goodbye to the doorman as she preceded Adrian out the glass doors to the busy LoDo street.

  “I’m just down there.” He pointed to a black Tesla Model S parked down the street, and Ana almost laughed. Of course he drove a $130,000 electric car. She shouldn’t have expected anything less. At least her instincts about him were right—the virtue play had definitely been the right one. He probably bought wind energy credits for his house to offset his electricity usage.

  He opened her door for her, and she climbed into the sleek, leather-scented interior. When he joined her, she half expected him to start talking about the car, but instead he shifted directly to the restaurant. “Have you been to the Cellar?”

  “I haven’t, actually. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been out in ages. Besides, it just opened last month. Reservations have been impossible to get.”

  He smiled. Ah, there it was. It wasn’t the restaurant that was meant to impress, but his connections.

  The restaurant itself was moody and dim, modeled after a wine cellar with brick walls and rustic furnishings. Candles at each table. Ana began to feel uneasy as they were led to a two-top in the back corner, private and romantic. The host held out the chair for her and draped her napkin into her lap, while Adrian seated himself to her left.

  “What do you think?” he asked, looking suddenly eager to please.

  “It’s nice,” she said. “Interesting ambience. What kind of food again?”

  “Rustic continental, I think. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering us the tasting menu in advance.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Tell me, Ana, how did you end up in publicity? I understand the media studies, but not the MBA.”

  So Ana gave him the rundown of how she’d made her way to Denver: she’d stayed close for her undergraduate studies so she could live at home, then gone to Berkeley because of their stellar MBA program. She didn’t say that she’d lived with her Aunt Belen the whole time to save money, both in college and after. She’d gone to work for a boutique publicity firm in San Francisco, where she’d worked for several years.

  “That’s actually how I met Melody,” she said, before realizing that Adrian had no idea who Melody was. “One of my best friends. She’s a pastry chef. She and my other friend Rachel own Bittersweet Café on Old South Pearl.”

  “Ah, I’ve been in there before. Good croissants.”

  Ana smiled. “They’re Melody’s specialty. Anyway, it was total coincidence; we met through a mutual acquaintance at a party. We became friends, and when she mentioned she was thinking about moving back home to Denver, I thought it sounded like a good time for a change since my boss was refusing to promote me. I hired on with Massey-Coleman and the rest is history.”

  “Except for the leave of absence part.”

  “Oh yes.” Ana took a drink of water. “That was just politics. I go back in thirteen weeks.”

  “You seem pretty confident.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I don’t know. Call me cynical, but I’ve seen too many of these temporary leaves turn permanent. It’s hard to jump back in.”

  It was exactly what she had feared, but she wasn’t going to let on. “I’
m secure there. The fact I didn’t get fired is a positive sign.”

  “It is,” he said.

  “So how about you? I don’t know many little boys who want to be venture capitalists when they grow up.”

  Adrian laughed. “No, probably not. You know the routine for us VC guys: undergrad at Wharton, MBA at Harvard, used family connections to talk my way into an analyst position at a first-tier firm in Boston. Where I would still probably be languishing had I not stumbled on a promising start-up and convinced the partners to invest.”

  “What deal was that?”

  “Ever heard of a little company called ProjeScape?”

  Ana’s eyes widened. Everyone knew ProjeScape. It was a productivity app that had exploded practically overnight and was used by half the businesses in America. Including Massey-Coleman. “That was you?”

  He nodded. “Got lucky. I went to school with the founder and he came to me first. I could tell it was going to go big, but trust me, it wasn’t an easy sell.”

  “But once it did . . .”

  “I could write my own ticket.”

  “So why come back to Denver?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I grew up here. I like the city. Better quality of life, great outdoor activities. There really was no comparison for me between Boston and Denver.”

  Ana leaned forward, frowning. “So, if you went to school on the East Coast, how do you know Bryan? I assumed you went to college together.”

  “Ah. You know those family connections I mentioned? My dad and his dad did business together. We spent many evenings playing pool in Bryan’s basement while the adults talked business.”

  “You should have spent a little more time practicing then.”

  Adrian grinned, but he didn’t reply because the first course arrived.

  The food was just as good as Ana expected it to be, and the conversation downright pleasant. Adrian definitely had the touch of arrogance she’d come to associate with finance guys, but he was also personable and easy to talk to. By the time they left the restaurant more than two hours later, she had to admit to herself that she’d had a nice time.

  They chatted easily on the way back, and when they entered the lobby of Ana’s building, he paused. “Can I walk you up?”

  Ana considered. There was her one-month rule, but she was pretty sure that Adrian was neither an obsessive stalker nor a rapist. She hadn’t yet decided whether she wanted to see him again. She hadn’t decided whether she wanted to kiss him either.

  He rode up the elevator with her, keeping a respectable distance, and followed her out onto her floor, where they stopped in front of her door.

  “So,” she said.

  “So.” He smiled down at her. “Can I see you again?”

  She smiled back. “I’ll think about it.”

  The moment stretched, their eyes locked, and she could feel the instant he decided to move in for the kiss. She waited, curiously unmoved, while his hand slid to her waist and his lips met hers.

  It was nice. He was a good kisser. Not too aggressive, not too passive.

  And she felt absolutely nothing.

  He must have picked up on her lack of interest, because he pulled back and placed a solid foot between them. “Just be straight with me, Ana. I have no chance here, do I?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, and when she opened them, she knew the truth. “No. And it really has nothing to do with you.”

  “I figured as much when you hesitated on Tuesday.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and gave a resigned shrug. “Tell Bryan I authorized the wire transfer this afternoon. The money should be in his account first thing Monday morning.”

  Ana studied his face. “You’re really going to invest that fast.”

  A faint trace of amusement colored his expression. “You think I shouldn’t?”

  “No, of course you should. I just . . . I was planning on weeks if not months.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not a lot of money in the scheme of things, Ana. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. Sometimes you’ve just got to take your shot and see what happens.”

  She had the feeling that he wasn’t just talking about Solid Grounds now. She couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Adrian. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled back. “Me too. Have a good night, Ana.”

  She waited until he disappeared around the corner, then let herself into her condo and released a long sigh.

  There was nothing wrong with Adrian. He was handsome, successful, easy to talk to. Maybe slightly self-congratulatory, but she was used to that by now. All in all, it was the nicest date she’d had in a very long time.

  And yet when his lips touched hers, she knew something she’d known all along but hadn’t wanted to admit.

  She pulled out her cell phone and tapped out a text message to Bryan. Okay, I’m in. What time do we leave?

  Chapter Fifteen

  ANA’S UBER DROPPED HER at Denver International Airport at the yawn-inducing time of four fifteen on Monday morning. Bryan had gotten a deal on tickets from Denver to St. Louis, but the hitch was that the flight left at a quarter to six. No wonder it hadn’t been filled. The sun wasn’t even thinking about peeping over the horizon yet.

  She pulled her roller case through the glass doors, rummaging through her shoulder bag for her driver’s license, which she would need immediately for going through security. Like she normally did when she traveled, she’d split the difference between polished and comfortable: dark jeans, a lightweight sweater, and ballet flats. Nothing with any metallic parts, nothing to hold her up in security. Even the sticks thrust through the bun on top of her head were wood.

  “Ana!”

  She turned at her name and saw Bryan jogging toward her, a large backpack on his back. “Hey. I was waiting for you near the check-in desk.”

  Ana held up her phone. “Checked in online.”

  “Of course you did.” He smiled. “Ready for an adventure?”

  She laughed as they fell into step together, bypassing the escalators that led down to the security lines in favor of bridge security—a local traveler hack that shaved dozens of minutes off the wait. “I’m not sure I would call this an adventure.”

  “We’re flying eight hundred miles to look at a twenty-thousand-dollar piece of used equipment, which we may or may not be bringing home in a U-Haul. How is that not an adventure?”

  “This coming from a man who routinely flies around the world and hitchhikes in foreign countries?”

  He winked at her. “They’re not foreign if you go enough.”

  Ana just shook her head and tightened her grip on her suitcase. He was awfully chipper for this early in the morning, even if he looked rumpled enough to have just rolled out of bed. Jeans, T-shirt, wrinkled canvas jacket, Converse. He clearly hadn’t shaved in several days, because the beard was starting to make a comeback. It was such a far cry from the polished professional who had showed up to the meeting with Adrian, it was hard to believe he was the same person.

  And she was hard-pressed to say which version she preferred.

  She cleared her throat. “So, how is this going to work exactly?”

  “The seller is expecting us late this morning, so we’ll go straight to his warehouse and check out the roaster. If we like it, I get a cashier’s check, and we go get a U-Haul to drive it home. It’s a twelve-hour drive, so I figured we’d stay overnight in St. Louis and drive home tomorrow morning. We should be back in Denver by dark.”

  “Okay then.” She threw him another glance. “How sure are you that this is what we need?”

  “Absolutely sure, assuming it’s in good condition. And he’s including the ventilation system, which saves us thousands. I’ll just need local installation and we’ll be good to go.”

  “Wow.” This whole time, the business had been somewhat abstract in her mind, an exercise to keep her busy while she was on leave from her real job. Maybe that was because her job was abstract. After all, she routinely dealt with thin
gs like publicity and reputation, which were completely mental, not physical. But in two days, Bryan would have four thousand pounds of green coffee beans from a farm that he owned in Colombia . . . and hopefully something to roast them in.

  That was about as substantial as one could get.

  “What’s wrong?” Bryan picked up on her musings as they approached the TSA officer at a little stand. Ana moved forward, handed her license to him, and set her phone facedown on the scanner. It beeped when it accepted her boarding pass QR code. He nodded and waved her through.

  Ana waited for Bryan on the other side while he went through the same procedure with a paper boarding pass, then picked up the conversation again. “I just started to think about how much work is actually ahead of us. I mean, once you get the roaster and the beans, we have a physical product. We need to be able to sell it within a reasonable amount of time, right? Beans don’t stay fresh for that long.” She plopped her suitcase onto the belt for the X-ray machine and toed off her flats.

  Bryan followed suit, revealing gray socks emblazoned with penguins. The funky design barely registered through her sudden anxiety. “I’ll just be doing test batches for now—we’ll foist them off on our family and friends until I’m done fine-tuning the roast. But yeah. We need distribution. Like, yesterday.”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay. Then that’s what I’ll focus on. That means as soon as we get back, we’ll need at least some basic marketing collateral. And I’ll need samples to take around to interested coffee shops and restaurants. Half-pound bags should do it. Or at least that’s what all the internet forums tell me.”

  “You’ve been reading those too?” Bryan grinned at her. “There’s some really bad advice in there.”

  “But some good advice too.” Ana went through the scanner without a beep and then waited at the end of the line for her suitcase and handbag.

  Bryan found a place next to her to wait and glanced down. Then he smiled. “You have flowers on your toes.”

  Ana looked down quickly, inexplicably embarrassed by the white glittered flowers on her pink toenail polish. “Yeah, I got a pedicure on Friday.”