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Julie
Hearing the bell attached to the door jingle for the umpteenth time this morning, I try my hardest not to let the sound drive me up the wall.
It’s been three years since Atomic Roast came to the small town of Fairland and despite all that time passing, we’re still as busy as we were on opening day.
I guess when you come to a small town that barely has anything, I can’t be surprised that every tired citizen wants to come to say hello before starting their day. If only they weren’t all a grumpy bunch.
“Boss, one of the machines is leaking again,” Riley warns at my side, appearing out of thin air. She’s got a plastic cup marked with ice already inside. “We’ve already almost had two nasty slips.”
So much to do around here, sometimes it feels like I can barely keep up. As always, I keep a smile on my lips and do whatever I can to keep my head above the water.
The bell jingles again, and two more customers come inside. Workers rush around me to get orders out as quickly as possible. While they all chant the usual welcoming, they all look as tired as I feel.
Just gotta get through the morning rush and the rest of the day will be a breeze.
Leaving my team, I put my attention on the leak. I really need to replace the machine and one day, I will. Until the fix isn’t an easy one, I’m going to pinch pennies until I’m forced to spend thousands on a new machine.
Grabbing the tools tucked away in the corner of my office, I get right in the middle of the rush of employees trying to keep up. Water soaks my knees and palms as I take a look to see if the problem is the same as last time. I’m not surprised when I see where the water is dripping from the piping.
All it takes is repositioning the pipe and tightening up some pieces. Thanks to all the vibrating equipment, this kind of thing happens at least once a week. Maybe if I call a plumber…?
“Julie, we’re running low on tea bags,” another voice calls from above.
Leaning up, I smack my head on the table and curse. Rubbing the sore spot, I look up at the wincing employee. Bre looks apologetic for catching me off guard.
“We’ve got more coming tomorrow morning,” I tell her, forcing a smile while pretending that I’m not going to get a raging headache from that bump here soon.
After fixing the leak, I wipe my hands off and return everything back to the office. In there, I take a moment to breathe. Stress like this is not good for the heart, that’s for sure. I can’t let my hardworking team go seeing me break down either.
Three years is a long time and I have quite the golden record of keeping up a positive attitude, even if it is a bit forced at a few times.
Leaving the comfort of my office, I wash up and join the team once more, helping them get drinks out as another rush of orders comes in.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m ready to lock the front door and refuse any more sales. I think those I work with wouldn’t tell me it’s a bad idea either.
The bell jingles again and another person steps inside. Kill me now.
“Boss,he’shere again,” Riley whispers under her breath. There’s a particular look in the teenager’s eyes and I already know who she’s talking about.
Sawyer, the mountain man. Better known as the man who took over running the rescue joint on the other side of town.
It’s my normal head-jerking reaction that gives away my very small infatuation with the man. My team likes to poke fun and tease, so I’ve learned to not immediately look the moment someone mentions his arrival.
The guy comes every day, sits in the corner of the cafe, sucks down a latte, and eats one of the random foods we offer for his lunch. Yesterday was a cinnamon roll. Today, the order screen tells me he’s hungry for a sandwich.
It takes strength to hold myself back from being the one to make his order. Still, I can’t help but very slowly turn to look toward the front. Ignoring Riley’s soft giggle, I look at the man who makes our front counter look small.
He’s wearing one of those red shirts, the same ones that all the rescuers wear. The mountain logo is deliciously stretched across his chest and now I’m blatantly staring. It doesn’t take long for me to get caught either.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but it always feels like our eyes meet at least once per shift. Even if I try to sneak a glance, I can’t go unnoticed. Sometimes, I even catch him looking at me.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but that’s got to mean something, right? He could always think I’m the crazy owner who just stares at him. Who knows? I’ve never held a long enough conversation with the guy to find out. My poor tongue ties up in a knot at just the thought of talking to him.
I’d choke on my words if I actually spoke any words outside of the usual ‘Have a good day’.
When Sawyer notices my sneaky glance, I swear he smirks. My poor heart aches at the sight and I try to casually look away. As casual as I can when I’ve got an employee at my side grinning as she watches the whole scene unfold.
Working with teenagers is the worst. They don’t understand how complicated this mess is. Love’s not easy, not even for a woman approaching her thirties.
