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“A little,” I answer. I had a soft opening last weekend just to see how it would go, and we sold out of pretty much every baked good, and my coffee flew out of the store in recycled cardboard cups.
Even Dawn came in and, after thirty years of having the same terrible coffee in her own diner, demanded that I give her the name of my supplier for my standard coffee bean. We worked out an agreement that I would place the order of beans for her, grind them, and then drop them by her diner for a small fee since she’s not set up with an industrial size grinder, nor does she have the patience to order one, learn how to use it, and install it in her own space.
I made the mistake of trying her coffee one morning about two months back. Our coffee pot broke, and I had to wait a full two days for a new one to be delivered. Desperate, I swung into the diner, and after one sip my tastebuds nearly leapt from my tongue in offense.
That was the first and last time I drank whatever she was brewing in her pots over there. But now she has a very flavorful brew to offer her customers that won’t send them running for the hills.
After ousting the acidic brew she offered to customers, I pretty much became a town hero. There wasn’t an empty seat in the shop for my soft opening, and everyone was patting me on the back, telling me how excited they were for the place to finally be open.
“It’s going to be amazing. You know that?” Boone says and I take comfort in the words. Ally encouraged me to chase my dreams for years, so the support isn’t foreign, but from Boone it just feels like more. He spent weeks in his brother’s shop helping to design and build the tables for my store. Days with a paint roller in hand when I couldn’t decide if I wanted the warm-champagne color or forest-green on my walls. Hours with the espresso machine, appliances, and electronics to help me ensure that I stayed on track and under budget for my doors to open on time.
“I know.” I nod, though I’m still nervous. I’ve been trying to shake the feeling all morning, and I just haven’t managed it yet.
Boone pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks across the screens, and a soft crooning voice fills the coffee shop.
Another one of the perks of having a tech-savvy boyfriend and his brothers help me set up shop? Recessed speakers and a Bluetooth radio give me full control of the music that’s played in here.
Boone reaches out and tugs my hand to pull me toward him. His arm comes around my waist and he pulls me into him.
My arms thread around the back of his neck, playing in his nearly too long hair. I lean up and press my lips to his, the tickle of his beard on my cheeks familiar and wonderful.
“Better?” he asks when we break apart.
I nod. “We’re dancing together in the early morning on the day that my dream is coming true. What could be better than that?”
He smiles down at me. “How about me telling you that I love you. Would that make today better?”
I pull back and my eyes widen. His own gaze is warm and loving.
“You love me?” I whisper.
He nods and presses a small kiss to the corner of my lips. “I do. I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you, but nothing felt right, not until right now.”
“Oh my God. I love you so much.” My head meets his chest, and I hide my face in his shirt, tears heavy in my eyes.
“Are you crying, Buttercup?”
I nod, a sobbing laugh bursting out of me. I’m so happy.
Leaning back, my lips find his in a less than chaste kiss. I gasp into his mouth and dip my own tongue in to tangle with his. He tastes like home. Like forever and safety and happiness rolled together in something that belongs solely to me.
A knuckle rap against glass pulls us apart, and glancing over, I see all five of his brothers standing at the door grinning at us like fools.
Boone unlocks the door and opens it. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We couldn’t let baby sister think that we weren’t going to support her.” Rhett sounds offended that he even asked.
About a month ago, Harlan called me his sister when he and Duke were helping me with something at the shop. I cried. They looked horrified, but then it stuck.
They treat me like a sister, or what I think a sister would be treated like. I never have to gas up my car or mow the lawn. If Boone doesn’t take out the trash for whatever reason, one of his brothers will do it since at least one of them is at our house every day.
“He loves me,” I say through a smile that goes watery when I think about it again.
The five of them look at me with the same “duh” expression on their faces.
“You just got that? What, are you blind?” Finch asks.
I shake my head. “No. But he just told me today.”
