Page 11 of By Any Beans Necessary

"Michelle, dear," the interruption came like a thunderclap, shattering the moment.

Mrs. Shomacker. Jeff's internal groan could've echoed in the high rafters. The woman bore down on them like a ship full sail.

"Did you hear about the bazaar?" Mrs. Shomacker clutched at Michelle's arm, her voice shrill with excitement.

"Uh, no, I haven't." Michelle's attention pivoted, the shift leaving Jeff adrift.

"Next Saturday. You simply must bring your delightful scones. The community would be so disappointed without them."

"Sure, Mrs. Shomacker, I'll make sure to—" Michelle began, but the older woman was relentless and didn't wait for her to finish.

"And Jeff, dear boy." Mrs. Shomacker now turned her beady eyes on him. "We need strong men to set up the tables. Can we count on you?"

"Uh, sure, I guess..." Jeff's response was automatic, his brain still scrambling to recover from the lost opportunity.

"Excellent." Mrs. Shomacker patted Michelle's hand before bustling away, a tornado of enthusiasm and mumu dress.

"Looks like you're roped in," Michelle said, her grin teasing.

"Seems so." Jeff tried to match her levity, but inside, frustration simmered.

"It was good seeing you here."

"It was good seeing you, too, Michelle." There was a sincerity in her words that resonated with him, a genuine kindness that he hadn't experienced from her in a long time.

"Anyway, I should go help Mrs. Balster clean up." She gestured toward the back of the church where volunteers were gathering up hymnals.

"Right." Jeff nodded, feeling the moment slip through his fingers like sand. "About what I was going to say..."

"Can it wait? I really do need to go help, but I'll see you around, okay," Michelle told him before turning away, leaving Jeff with a sense that something new was on the horizon for them.

He knew he couldn't let himself get too carried away. After all, they had only just started talking again recently, and the seal on their friendship was only a couple of seconds old. Yet, the way she had looked at him, the way she had reacted when he touched her, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something there, something real and tangible. Maybe he was finally on the path to redemption, and maybe, just maybe, he'd end up patching things up with Michelle along the way.

"Man, you really missed your window there, huh?" Hunter's voice snuck up behind him, ribbing him with a knowing smirk.

"Shut it, Hunter." There was, however, no real heat in Jeff's words. Just the slow burn of hope mixed with apprehension. He'd get another shot. He had to.

Hunter raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. I'll lay off. But you gotta admit, it's good to see you like this. You've been moping around for days."

His friend wasn't wrong. Things hadn't been going exactly smoothly at the academy for Jeff, and it was nice to have something to look forward to for once. "I know. But I don't want to rush things. I don't want to mess this up again."

Hunter clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit. Take it slow, but don't let this opportunity slip away. You've got a second chance, my friend. They don't come around all the time. Don't blow it."

Jeff nodded, feeling a newfound determination. He watched as Michelle moved around the room, helping volunteers and chatting with church members. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was ready to try his best to win her heart back. He wanted to show her that he was a changed man, that he was worthy of her trust and affection. He knew it wouldn't be easy, as old habits die hard, but he was determined to prove himself to her.

Chapter Five

Michelle maneuvered behind the counter like a conductor orchestrating a caffeinated overture, her blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail, hazel eyes sparkling with an energy that defied the early hour.

"Triple shot, extra hot, no foam latte for Mr. Sleepyhead at table four," she announced, placing the steaming mug on the counter with a flourish that earned a chuckle from the groggy recipient. "Maybe I should have made it a quad, though I think the surgeon general might have frowned upon that. Three’s already pushing it."

As the door chimed again, she glanced up to see Jeff Parker stride in, his six-four frame and tousled brown hair impossible to miss. His nose, crooked from tales untold, added character to his ruggedly handsome face—a stark contrast to the delicate porcelain and polished wood of The Coffee Loft. Winston happily trotted right beside him.

"Morning, Michelle," Jeff greeted, his voice a smooth baritone that seemed to stir the air itself.

"Jeff. Right on time," she beamed, tapping her watch. "Your internal clock is more reliable than our ancient coffee grinder."

"Can't start my day without your magic potion," he quipped, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a playful smirk painting his lips. "Make me the special one from the other day."

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