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I messaged her, asking if she had time to stop by the shop in the morning to discuss the photos. I fully intended to talk to her about what happened. I had to share it with someone. Pulling on the silky lingerie for evenings when I wanted more, I slid between the cool sheets. My mind instantly replayed the moment Ben walked inside, intent on me.
My hand drifted down my stomach and under the waistband of my shorts. With a few firm strokes, circles of my clit, and a dip of my fingers, I was falling over the edge. The rush of pleasure washed over me. It had been a long time since I’d allowed myself to feel a release. I was usually too tired, too focused on other things.
Only after I’d come down and relaxed on my pillow did I realize that I’d said Ben’s name in the middle of my orgasm. My eyes popped wide open, and my heart raced. I was so fucked.
After a fitful sleep, I woke up earlier than usual for my morning run. I ran through some stretches while watching the news, then quickly showered, trying to forget last night.
I was a professional. I didn’t go around kissing the competition. Walking inside Java Coffee, my morning barista, Angelina, was already behind the counter, and the register person, Caitlyn, was smiling at the first person in line.
I tried not to panic when I noticed the line was half the size of normal. On a weekday, we were crazy busy from opening until around nine in the morning, and then we got the rush of people who didn’t stop by until they’d clocked in for work. Then it was sporadic until the afternoon caffeine pick-me-ups. In the evenings, the crowd was younger than the college students who came in for a study jolt or to socialize. On Sundays, we were busy from open to close. Normally, I’d hop behind the counter, offering a smile to my usual customers, but my staff didn’t really need the help.
I didn’t want to acknowledge that things were different, so I smiled and waved on my way to the office. Sitting at my desk, I rested my head on the seat back.
So the morning crowd wanted to try the selection of beans at Ben’s shop. I tried not to fall into the trap of self-pity. I needed to dust myself off and decide on a plan.
Firing up my computer screen, I knew it wasn’t just opening day we needed to play for. It was every day thereafter. How were we going to successfully counter Bean Rush’s opening? Draw customers back and keep them returning for more.
Hailey walked in, throwing a newspaper on my desk. With a flutter, it settled in front of me, already open to the front page of the Life & Style section with the headline,“Childhood Rivals Back in Action with Competing Coffee Shops.”It had a smaller italicized headline that read,Which one will come out on top?The article started with, “Competitors since they were kids…” And then I stopped reading. The top picture was Bean Rush. Then there were two small pictures, one of me behind my lemonade stand and the one with Ben.
I swallowed hard. “This is bad.”
“Is it?” Hailey asked, her head tilted.
I looked up at her. “Yes.”
Though I hadn’t read the rest of the article, I could only imagine what nonsense the reporter was going on about. Rivals. Competitors. Childhood Nemeses. Kissing on the counter after closing. Competitors by day, lovers by night. I’d given her all the material she needed last night.
“What’s with you? I thought yesterday went well. You had a ton of customers pick up free coffee, and you’re in the Sunday paper.”
I shook my head, lowering it to skim over the article. It wasn’t anything new exactly, and I breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t bring up the chemistry between Ben and me or the kiss. Hopefully, no one had seen it.
I let out a breath. “It's not as bad as I feared.”
Hailey smiled encouragingly. “It’s great publicity. It might even bring in new people who haven’t tried your store yet.”
There was a summary of each of our stores, which was nice. But I didn’t like that small headline asking which one would come out on top. That implied there’d be a loser. And a loser in business meant failure, giving up, and closing shop.
I’d been luckier than most businesses, enjoying little to no competition. Some customers got their coffee from one of the bakeries or the numerous hotels and bed-and-breakfasts, but it wasn’t as good as my coffee. But Ben using a large selection of quality whole beans had created a niche for himself. Something different and new. He might draw in the suits from the courthouse and surrounding businesses and the plentiful snobby college kids at St. John’s College, which was a short walk north of his shop.
Caitlyn popped in with my usual drink. “I thought you might like this since we were slow.”
That statement pierced my heart. “Thank you.”
Hailey waited for Caitlyn to leave before asking, “What’s with you this morning?”
I sipped my coffee, wishing I could inject it directly into my veins. I was exhausted and wracked by guilt for my behavior last evening. “I didn’t sleep well.”
Her expression morphed into sympathy as she nodded toward the newspaper. “You’re stressed about this.”
“How can I not be? You heard Caitlyn. It’s slow on a Sunday.”
“It’s like you said, Bean Rush is the new, shiny thing. People will try it out and come back to you.”
“How can you be so sure?” A rare bout of uncertainty had latched on to me, and it was reluctant to let go. Instead, it only tightened like a band around my chest.
Disbelief flitted over her face. “I can’t be, but I like to think you’ve built a strong business here. You connect with the customers. Will Ben?”
If he connected with his customers as he had with me last night… “I’m not sure.”
