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KING
Running into Juliet tanked my damn morning. Besides ruining my shirt, she spoiled my mood. The only thing that could make errand day worse is a full-blown panic attack in the middle of town.
Mission accomplished, Jules. Thanks a fucking lot.
After I finish hyperventilating, I somehow manage to make it to Seaglass Supply and load up on stuff I need for the ranch: horse feed, meds, shampoo. I have a standing order, so it takes less than an hour. Good thing, because my head’s still pounding. Missing out on the caffeine fix from the gas station, I guess.
Even though fancy, overpriced coffee’s not really my style, I reluctantly hit up Coastal Coffee. I don’t think I can make it all the way until lunch without caffeine.
The door jingles as I push into the airy café. They have to overcharge for their brew just to afford the carrying costs here. The location’s prime—right in the center of town square—and the furniture’s beachy chic. Real designer.
Stalking up to the counter, I wait for the barista to take my order. She’s engrossed in her phone—probably some social media bullshit.
I clear my throat and her head pops up.
“Oh, hey, sorry.” She shoves her cell into her apron pocket and sidles up to the register.
“I’ll have a large coffee. Black, with room for cream.”
“Dark roast, light roast, medium roast, or special blend?”
“Uh ...” I stare up at the menu board, debating. “Medium’s fine.”
“Regular cream or plant based?”
“Regular.”
“And you said gargantuan, right?”
“Is that a large?”
“We have mini, midi, grand, and gargantuan.”
“Oh. Grand is fine.”
“Cool. That’ll be five fifty.”
“Five fifty. Freaking ridiculous,” I mutter, rifling through my wallet and pulling out a ten-dollar bill.
She makes change and then sidles away to grab the coffee.
Jingle, jingle.
“King! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to town today?” My sister rushes over, squeezing my waist in a tight side hug.
“I come to town every two weeks, Pops. Didn’t know I needed to get on your calendar.”
“I’m surprised to see you here. You don’t drink lattes.” Her brows raise, and I shake my head.
“Yeah. Prices here are outrageous. But it’s a long story.”
“Does that story have anything to do with one Juliet Capelli?” She scrunches up her nose, her eyes locked on mine. I squirm, heat flaming my cheeks.
“What? No, not really. Why?”
Poppy chucks me in the arm. “You’re a terrible liar, big brother. I have it on good authority that the two of you had a run-in at the gas station this morning.”
“What the—how’d you hear that?”
