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“Alright, I’ll think about it,” I grumbled, not wanting to give him too much satisfaction.
“Great. Now, here’s your copy of the lease...” Caleb pulled out a crisp manila envelope from his briefcase, presenting it to me with a flourish. His fingers were steady as he handed me the documents. I couldn’t help but admire his meticulous attention to detail.
The customers at Pebble’s Brew, sensing the undercurrents of our exchange, showed silent solidarity with me, their expressions a mix of concern and quiet defiance. Summoning the full force of my resolve, I met Caleb’s gaze directly, my own eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—fear, determination, and a spark of the old rivalry that once defined our relationship.
“Alright, Caleb,” I said firmly, taking the documents from him. “But if we make changes, they’ll be done in a way that respects the spirit of this place and its role in the community.”
“Deal,” he agreed, offering me a genuine smile for the first time since he’d entered. And as we shook hands, sealing our new arrangement, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was still hope for us to find common ground after all.
“Fine,” I muttered, flipping through the pages. As I skimmed the legalese, I felt a mix of emotions—fear of what Caleb’s influence could mean for Pebble’s Brew, determination to protect my parents’ legacy, and the tiniest spark of curiosity about how our old rivalry might evolve now that we were on the same team.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” Caleb said, his voice sincere despite our banter.
“Will do,” I replied, tucking the lease into my apron pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got customers to serve.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping back with a slight bow. “Carry on, Zoe.”
As Caleb left, I glanced around the room. The customers at Pebble’s Brew, sensing the undercurrents of our exchange, showed silent solidarity with me. Their expressions were a mix of concern and quiet defiance, and I could tell they had my back.
“Everything alright, Zoe?” asked Mrs. Jacobs, her eyes filled with concern as she clutched her knitting needles.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I reassured her, forcing a smile. “Just a bit of business to sort out.”
“Good,” she nodded, her gaze following Caleb’s retreating figure. “We wouldn’t want anything to change around here.”
“Neither would I,” I agreed, feeling a surge of gratitude for their support. It only strengthened my resolve to protect the cozy charm of Pebble’s Brew.
With renewed determination, I returned to the counter, ready to serve another round of lattes and scones. My thoughts, however, lingered on Caleb—his stormy blue eyes, his confident stride, and the way he’d challenged me so effortlessly. That our old rivalry was rekindling something inside me.
“Zoe, do you need help?” said Emily, my part-time barista, breaking through my thoughts.
“Uh, no, I’ve got it. Thanks,” I replied, pushing aside thoughts of Caleb for now. There would be time for that later. For the moment, I had a coffee shop to run and a community to serve.
However much change Caleb Masters might bring, I was going to fight tooth and nail to preserve the essence of what made this place so special.
Chapter 5
Thefollowingmorningrushwent without a hitch until Caleb arrived. I could feel the usual smile I gave to every customer who came through the door, freezing when I saw him.
The usual smile I gave to every customer who came through the door froze when I saw him.
“Zoe,” he said softly, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I could have presented the news more… delicately.”
“Oh, you’ve realized that taking on Pebble’s Brew isn’t just another faceless corporate takeover?” I said my tone steady and unyielding.
“Well… yes, exactly that. And I am truly sorry about my manner,” he said sincerely. “It’s just been a bit weird coming back to Pebble Point again.”
I could tell he was not used to apologizing, and I felt myself softening toward him, just a little.
“Hmmmm. Ok. Maybe I’ll forgive you. But only if you can prove yourself as a trainee barista.”
Caleb’s smug grin was enough to make anyone roll their eyes. “I’ve learned to make a decent cup of coffee during my travels.”
“Really now?” I smirked, refusing to be outdone. “Why don’t you prove it by taking on our antique espresso machine?”
“Deal.”
With a flourish, I handed him the apron I reserved for crucial business decisions—my mother’s lucky apron. As he tied it around his waist, I felt a pang of nostalgia and trepidation, but I shook it off. This was all in good fun, after all.
