Page 2 of Wanted By You

Peggy smiles, coming in with a large tray of assorted cookies for the display. “Well, I love it. He’ll probably get a kick out of it. More than the flower cup you gave him last time.”

I scoff. “That flower cup was stunning, one of the best roses I’ve ever drawn was on that cup. And you know what he did? He tossed the entire thing in the trash—didn’t even take a sip from it! Demanded a new coffee, took it, and stomped off in his boots like some caveman.”

“Okay, you really need to let that go. It’s been six months,” Alison tells me, helping Peggy stock the display.

“All the more reason to put this on his cup.” Peggy chuckles. “And as your boss, I’m telling you to do it.”

I cross my arms over my chest, standing my ground. “I’m not doing it.”

Alison giggles as Peggy turns to me, raising a very serious brow. “Cassidy Clark, I gave you a raise to do exactly what I’m telling you to do now. Don’t you sass me, young lady. Now, grab an extra-large to-go cup and Sharpie, and get to fancy writing. I want the ‘A’ in asshole to be capitalized.”

Alison booms with laughter, high-fiving Peggy. “This is going to besogood.”

Like a scolded child, I do as I’m told, grabbing a cup and Sharpie. “Fine, but when he slashes my tires or keys my car, I’ll be blaming both of you,” I say, examining the cup for the bestplace to write this where he won’t notice it until he’s long gone from the coffee shop.

And then it clicks.Ha!

Alison comes back around the counter. “Oh, come on, he’ll never see it there.”

Peggy glances over with a smile on her face. “Always such a smartass, Cassidy.”

I smile brightly, setting the cup off to the side that now hasSmile, Assholewritten on the bottom of it. “Hey, I’m just doing what you pay me to do.” I wink, watching as one of our early morning regulars shuffles through the front door.

“Morning, ladies.” Wade nods toward the counter with his morning paper in hand. “I’ll have my usual.” He takes his time getting to his favorite spot beside the front window.

“Coming right up, Wade,” I call, getting his coffee and breakfast sandwich.

Since we only use the to-go cups for to-go orders, everything here is served in mugs and on dessert plates. So Peggy has me write my messages on a small napkin to be taken with each order.

Gathering up Wade’s order and a napkin from the little stockpile I have going, I walk over and place it down in front of him. He smiles, handing me cash to pay his bill. As I make my way back around to the register, he reads the napkin message out loud.

“It doesn’t matter how slow you go, as long as you don’t stop,” Wade chuckles deeply. “Love it, Cassidy. I’ll tell ya what, I’m feelin’ slow today.”

“Oh, I like that one,” Peggy chimes brightly.

I smile. “Peggy, you say that about all my little one-liners.”

She huffs, giving me a sassy side-eye of her own. “And I mean it. Now quit being such a sass and get me my coffee, please. I’ll be in the back office for a bit this morning.”

I snicker to myself, turning to retrieve her request. Alison heads to the kitchen to finish whipping up the dozens of breakfast sandwiches we go through each day. The early morning rush starts, and it’s not long before I glance at the clock, 6:07 AM. The bell above the door rings, and I don’t even need to look to know it’s him.

Here we go.

Reaching over—and against all my better judgment—I grab the extra-large to-go cup with theloveliestmessage written on the bottom. Turning back to the counter, I place the black coffee down in front of a towering, scowling Butch Montgomery.

With his strong jaw ticking, eyes dark, and brows furrowed for extra scowling flare, you’d think he was in his forties when he’s only thirty-four. The trimmed beard he has is a dark, chestnut brown, matching his shorter, slicked-back hair.

I bet he buys his neon work shirts a sizetoosmall just to get the attention he supposedlyhatesfrom all the women in town.

I hold back a snort at the thought.

“Extra-large black coffee, two breakfast sandwiches, and a chocolate chunk cookie. To go,” he grumbles. His voice comes out deep and dark with a growling rasp. Tossing cash on the counter in front of me, he stares down at his phone without paying me a second glance.

Always the gentleman.Not.

I roll my eyes. It’s not like he’ll see it anyway.

Getting his order, I place it all neatly in a paper bag, putting it beside his coffee. And as he always does, he grabs it and goes. Not even giving me a chance to say his total or give him his change.

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