“Just today. You always treat me to a coffee, and I just want to… Please let me pay for my drink today.”
Her brown eyes searched my face, then she nodded and a hint of her smile returned.
“Okay.”
I tapped my card to the reader and slipped a ten crown note into the tip jar.
“No ifs and buts,” I interrupted her before she could protest. “I’ll see ye later.”
Two guests entered the cafe and I took it as my sign to leave.
I floated out of the cafe, got into my car, and only came to my senses when I was in my workshop.
What’s happening to me?
I barely managed to set up the first batch for roasting before my phone rang.
Gods, I hated phone calls. I had to ask Autumn to practice those, too, even though the idea of having to fake a phone call with her made me actually cringe.
“Wild Bull Roast, Ross Graham speaking?” My voice came out way too gruff. “What can I do for ye’?” I added in what I hoped was a kinder tone.
“Hi, Ross, it’s Maeve.”
Ah!
I straightened my spine. I liked her almost as much as Autumn.
Well, no.
I grimaced at myself in the small mirror beside the door. Nobody moved me as much as Autumn did.
And there was no way I’d ever get in between two Dragonborn. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to ask you if you had time for a meeting this morning?”
A meeting? “Nah, yer not disturbin’ me, lass. I am free this mornin’. I just have something after lunch.”
“Great! It shouldn’t take that long. Can we meet in Gillam Park?” Maeve gave me an address that I jotted down on my notepad. “There’s a lovely restaurant there, opposite Frostfire Real Estate.”
She described the company’s car park and how to get to the restaurant on foot.
“Perfect. I’ll see ye there.”
An hour later, I approached Frostfire’s building. It was a square four-storey red brick building with large windows and a construction site at its top.
Maeve already waited by the door. She beamed when she spotted me, and waved.
“Ross, it’s so good to see you.” She dashed over, pulled me down by the sleeve so she could reach, and pecked me on the cheek.
“Good to see you, too,” I told her.
“Come on, are you hungry? I’m starving.” Without letting go or waiting for my reply, she pulled me across the square to a door in a large window front. The Breadfather, the sign read.
“You haven’t been here, have you, Ross?” Maeve pushed open the door.
“Uh, no.” Her enthusiasm and energy overwhelmed me for a moment.
Maeve led me towards a table by the window. “I always sit here,” she added with an apologetic shrug. “Pick whatever you fancy. My treat.” She threw back her purple hair and waved a hand at the menu.
“Good morning, Gavin,” she greeted the server, a slender, sandy-haired guy of about 25.
