Page 1 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
Chapter 1
The grinder hums to life,shattering the pre-dawn silence as I measure beans for the first batch of the day. Outside, Angel's Peak is still dark, the mountain silhouette barely visible against the navy sky. Inside Mountain Brew, copper pendant lights cast a warm glow across polished wood counters and gleaming espresso machines—my sanctuary, my promise, my next potential financial disaster.
I inhale deeply, letting the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee center me. Five a.m. has become my favorite time of day, these quiet moments before the world intrudes, when it's just me and the perfect chemistry of coffee.
The grinder stops, and I tap the grounds into the portafilter, tamping with precision. Thirty pounds of pressure, perfectly level. In coffee, as in life, precision matters. One mistake and everything turns bitter.
I should know…
Steam hisses as I stretch milk for the first latte of the day—mine. The microfoam swirls into the espresso, creating a perfect rosetta pattern without even trying. My hands remember even when my mind wanders.
And wander it does. Two years in Angel's Peak, and I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to walk through that door and say, "Hey, aren't you that girl from the BrewTech scandal?"
So far, it hasn't happened.
I take my latte to the front window, watching as the first hints of pink touch the mountain peaks. Angel's Peak is nothing like San Francisco. No fog. No tech bros talking loudly about disrupting industries they know nothing about. No ex-boyfriends stealing your life's work and then framing you for corporate espionage.
Just mountains, clean air, and people who don't Google everyone they meet.
A sharp rap on the front door startles me from my reverie. I check my watch—five forty-five, fifteen minutes before official opening. Through the glass, Marie from High Country Farms is bundled against the morning chill, breath fogging in the air. She balances a crate of produce on her hip, waving with her free hand.
I unlock the door, letting in a gust of mountain air along with Marie's cheerful energy.
"Morning, Lily. Thought I'd catch you early." She sets the crate on the nearest table, unwinding a knitted scarf from her neck. "The greenhouse is producing like crazy this week. Brought you some extra mint for those chocolate mochas everyone's been raving about."
"You're a lifesaver," I say, inspecting the vibrant green leaves. "The last batch was gone by Tuesday."
Marie's family has farmed in Angel's Peak for three generations. When I first opened Mountain Brew, she was one of the few locals who immediately offered support, insisting I use her herbs and produce rather than ordering from distributors.
"How's business?" She asks, her expression softening with concern.
I busy myself transferring the mint to a storage container. "Oh, you know. Surviving."
"That bad, huh?"
"Just the usual seasonal dip. It'll pick up once the summer tourists arrive." I force brightness into my voice, not wanting to admit how dire things actually are.
Marie places a weathered hand on mine, stilling my movements. "Lily, half the town knows you got that rent increase notice. Ruth's been on a rampage at The PickAxe about 'corporate vultures swooping in on our small businesses.'"
I suppress a sigh. Of course, everyone knows. In Angel's Peak, privacy is more theoretical than actual.
"Thirty percent is robbery," she continues, indignation coloring her tone. "Have you talked to Lucas Reid about it? He owns half the commercial property in town, maybe he could?—"
"I'll figure it out," I interrupt, more sharply than intended. "I always do."
Marie studies me for a moment, then nods. "Well, consider this delivery on the house. Call it my investment in keeping the best coffee shop in Colorado running."
"Marie, I can't?—"
"You can and you will." Her tone brooks no argument. "Besides, my kale is growing faster than I can harvest it. You're doing me a favor taking it off my hands."
I know it's not true, but I accept the kindness for what it is. In the city, such gestures would come with expectations. Here, they're simply the mountain way—neighbors helping neighbors through hard times.
"At least let me pay you in caffeine," I offer, already moving to the espresso machine.
Marie smiles, settling onto a stool. "Now that's an offer I won't refuse. Got any of those cinnamon scones from Margie's?"
As I prepare Marie's cappuccino and warm a scone, I mentally adjust my ledger. The savings from the free produce delivery won't make a dent in the rent increase, but every little bit helps. I need to increase business by at least forty percent to absorb the new costs, in a town with a permanent population of just over a few thousand.
