Page 16 of Love You A Latte

Derek crosses his arms and steps in front of me again.

“I don’t think so. You’re not welcome here.”

“Excuse me?” I say again, this time meeting his beady eyes with my own surprised stare.

“You heard me. I have the right to refuse service to anyone.” He points to the sign on the sliding door behind me. “And I’m refusing service to you.”

“This is the only grocery store in town,” I say. I cannot believe the nerve of this guy.

He shrugs. “Not my problem.”

I look around, not wanting to cause a scene, but there’s literally nowhere else to buy groceries unless I want to drive an hour to the outskirts of Phoenix. I shake my head.

“Come on, man.”

“Youare not welcome here,” he says, then takes amenacing step closer and slowly raises his arm, pointing behind me at the doors. “Get out.”

There’s no one around to witness this incident, which is shocking considering it seems there’s always someone gawking and waiting for the next piece of gossip. Myself included, though I can safely say this is not information I’ll be sharing with anyone. I don’t need or want the embarrassing attention it would bring.

I shake my head again and turn, deciding today is not the day to make a scene. I’ve had issues with Derek for over a year now. It started with him asking me where I source my specialty coffee beans, which I declined to tell him. I did a lot of work curating the perfect coffee blends, and I won’t let an entitled man take advantage of that. He didn’t like that I wouldn’t tell him, of course, and I think that’s what set him on this journey of destruction. He’s one of those men who can’t handle being told no, and when I didn’t back down, it set him on the war path.

Since then, he’s tried to get my business shut down for a number of reasons: not being open during during proper business hours, claiming poor customer service and discrimination, reporting Roasted for cleanliness concerns… all were dismissed because he’s a blithering idiot just making shit up.

This is a new low, though. I wish he weren’t so hellbent on making my life miserable, but I don’t regret standing up for myself. If he continues to deny me entrance, I’ll… Well, I’m not sure yet. Talk to the sheriff? Take it to the town council? I don’t know, but for now, I need to figure out what I can scrounge up from my pantry.

I decide on spaghetti. It’s nothing fancy, but I know Addison likes lasagna, and spaghetti isn’t too far off that. I have some fresh herbs and mushrooms to add to the sauce, but when I go to prepare the garlic bread, I realize that not only do I have no fresh garlic, but I’m down to the dregs of my garlic powder.

“Great,” I mutter.

I stomp into my shoes and run next door, figuring Mrs. Langdon, the crotchety old lady who owns the bookstore, has some I can borrow. I knock on her backdoor, hopingshe can hear it, and soon enough she pulls aside a vomit green curtain to peer out the window. Seeing it’s me, she scowls, then opens the door.

“Hi Mrs. Langdon,” I say. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any garlic I could borrow?”

“Garlic?” she says, narrowing her eyes at me and then darting her gaze in the direction of the grocery store. It’s only a few blocks away, so her confusion makes sense.

I sigh. “Yeah, it’s a long story. But if you have any, I’d appreciate it.”

She harrumphs and gestures me inside as she shuffles down the hall. I step in and close the door behind me, then peek around at what I can see from the entry, hoping for a glimpse of her two cats. They’re finicky little beasts, but one of them let Everly pet it once, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t even up the score. No such luck though, and soon Mrs. Langdon returns with a container of garlic powder and a clove of fresh garlic, pressing both into my hands.

“That bastard still giving you trouble I take it?” she grumbles.

I freeze, my hands still outstretched.

“How did you know about that?” I ask, shocked, because I haven’t said anything to anyone about Derek’s behavior.

“I’ve got eyes,” she says, her voice defensive, as though it should be obvious. “I know everything that goes on in this town.”

“Right,” I draw the word out, still not seeing how she knows so much when she spends her days shuffling between bookshelves.

“Well go on, then.” She shoos me toward the door, effectively dismissing me. “Though I’m not sure garlic is the best choice if you want her to stick around…” she mutters under her breath, her voice trailing off as she wanders back down the hall, assuming I’ll let myself out.

I gape at her back.Howdoes she know about our date?

Then I look down at the garlic in my hands, wondering if she’s right.

Addison

I text Frankie that I’m here and they throw the back door open, ushering me inside and up the stairs to their apartment loft on the second floor. They have a record playing soft jazz in the corner, and it smells divine up here. Like lasagna, actually, and my mouth waters.

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