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One.
Cassidy
“Do it, do it,do it.” Alison, my coworker and best friend, bounces beside me as I start the early morning brew.
I shake my head. “I’m not writing that on his cup. I meant it as a joke.”
She laughs. “And it’ll be even funnier when you write it on his cup and give it to him. Youhaveto do it, Cassidy.”
I’ve worked here at Cup O’ Joe for almost three years. The simple, small-town favorite coffee house. Serving the best coffee in Montana, if you ask me. “I’m not writingSmile, Assholeon Butch Montgomery’s to-go cup. It’s not happening. And don’t even try writing it, your handwriting sucks. He’ll know it was you, not me.”
“Good morning, girls.” Peggy sings, shuffling through the front door with her usual morning bundle of baked goods for the display.
Peggy Cup, my boss and owner of Cup O’ Joe, is the sweetest, kindest woman I’ve ever known. She named the quaint place after her late husband, Joe. Unfortunately, he passed away last year, but that’s only meant Peggy’s been pouring her entire heart and soul into her business.
And it shows. Everything here isamazing.
There are three of us lead shift ladies who work for Peggy. Myself, Alison, and Janice—along with a few part-time high schoolers. Since this is Alison’s second job, she only works for the first three hours each morning. Making up a load of breakfast sandwiches and helping me or Janice with the morning rush.
As an old friend of Peggy’s, Janice does this for something to do since her husband got injured working on the mountain. She swears she’s only here to get away from his complaining and their four kids still living at home. But secretly, she loves the town gossip and having a few laughs with all of us.
Peggy’s probably the best boss in the entire world. Shealwaysrotates weekends and makes sure we each receive at least two days off a week. And when we’re open seven days a week, working anytime from 5:00 AM to 3:00 PM, I’m happy for my recovery days.
But what I love most about Peggy is she lets me write while I work. I create and write greeting cards as an active hobby. The artwork, the messages—it’s all me.
I’ve had several greeting card companies purchase my work, but the biggest hands down wasHallmark. I nearlydiedwhen they bought one exclusively from me last year, and I’ve beendyingto make another they’ll love just as much.
So, I practice at work, trying out little quips and messages on the to-go cups. It started as a fun tease I did for Peggy one day when she was feeling down about Joe. She loved it enough toask me to start doing it daily for customers. She even gave me a whole dollar raise and bought me a slew of colored Sharpies.
I love it. The customers read them out loud, smile, and tell me thank you. Some even tell me how the message resonates with them. Everyone loves it.
Well, everyone except one person…Butch Montgomery.
The town asshole.
And that’s not just my opinion, he’s well known for his broody attitude and dire need for anger management. Yet, somehow, every woman wants him—or one of his brothers.
I don’t blame them; they’re allmen.
The Montgomery brothers might as well run this town. Each one of them owns a business here in our small community. They get plenty of respect from everyone—not that their egos need it, mind you. It might as well be changed from Whitetail, Montana toMontgomery, Montana.
But Butch… He’s a man’s man. Standing at six-foot-six with broad, hulking shoulders and large, calloused hands. He’s a wet dream in a deep red button-down flannel, dirty jeans, and work boots. All man and no bullshit—literally.
One morning, when I gave him his routine, extra-large black coffee to-go, I used one that had a few doodled flowers on it. They were just flowers! The man had a bitch fit, saying he asked for a black coffee, not a black doodled flower on his cup.
The audacity of this man, I swear.
I swore right then and there, he wouldneverget a welcome, good morning, doodle, or sweet message on his cup from me again. I can take criticism, but this wasn’t criticism. It was blatant asshole-ory, and I have no room in my life for his Negative Nancy energy.
I’ve got enough of it already weighing me down.
“Peggy,” Alison beams, rushing around the counter to help her bring everything in. “Tell Cassidy she should writeSmile, Assholeon Butch’s coffee this morning. Please!”
Our boss laughs heartily. “Oh, that’s a good one. Very fitting.”
Alison spins around, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “See. You have to do it now.”
I shake my head. “Don’t encourage her, Peggy. I meant it as a joke.”
