Page 35 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
“Romeo, you’re a vampire now,” I said. “You’re going to have to tell your mom eventually.”
“If I tell her, she will say I’m going to hell, and then she’ll have a heart attack and die.”
“Then tell her to stop putting garlic in the spaghetti,” said Shayla.
“That would be the same result, although she would probably beat me with a wooden spoon first. What would that even be? Who would want to eat that?”
“Romeo, you swell up like a real housewife who got a sweet deal on filler. It’s not healthy!” Shayla had a point, but I thought it was a losing battle. Cat Shifters didn’t seem too worried about religion, other than to perform the periodic ritual of pushing a mug onto the floor. Shayla was never going to understand the chokehold of Italian Catholic guilt.
“As long as Maddie keeps making the Deadly Nightshade potions, I will be fine,” said Romeo. “And my mother will not be able to say that she told me not to go to any goth events before having a heart attack and dying.”
Shayla chuckled, but I checked the clock again.
“You’re really excited about Mr. Yummy?” asked Romeo.
“Felix,” I corrected him. “And I’m notreallyexcited. I’m just hopeful that he’ll be able to help.”
Romeo looked over at Shayla, and their skeptical look was entirely mutual. Romeo’s was just a bit puffier.
“That’s if he shows up,” I said, looking at the clock again.
“He’ll show,” said Romeo confidently.
“You can’t be sure,” I said. “Maybe he regretted making the offer.”
“Not after you gave him a pumpkin spice pat down,” said Romeo. “I’m sure he’ll be here.”
“That is a reasonnotto show,” I said. “No one likes having coffee poured on them.”
“No, but I’m pretty sure he liked the clean-up all down his aisle five,” said Romeo, and Shayla laughed.
“Would you two stop? This is just a friendly meeting to talk business. There’s nothing romantic going on. It’s business.”
“Uh-huh,” said Romeo. “Business.”
The bell over the door jangled, and I straightened and tried to catch my breath as I saw a familiar broad-shouldered frame fill out the doorway.
Business.
It was just business.
FELIX
Outside was cold and blustery, but inside Deja Brew was warm and a little muggy. There was some sort of international jazz playing, and the air smelled of roasted coffee, fresh plants, and the delicious peachy smell of Maddie.
Maddie was talking about how she’d joined a coffee-buying co-op that allowed them to leverage their shared buyingpower to offer farmers rates competitive with the big chains. I nodded along. Her commitment to ethical fair-trade practices was great, and I ought to be paying attention to more than the delightful way her lips moved, but I knew about coffee co-ops and thought I could zone out for another minute or two. Today was a messy bun day, and I loved the way tendrils of hair floated around her face.
I’d felt like an idiot this morning as I tried to pick out an outfit that didn’t scream eithertrying too hardorcorporate jerk. As a result, I’d felt flustered when I arrived, but Maddie had seemed equally at sea, and that had somehow made me feel better.
Her folder of paperwork was thick, color-coded, and contained about ninety-eight percent of what she needed. She just didn’t know it. She was suffering from imposter syndrome and a couple of holes in her research that I knew we could fix. She needed to record her processes and make decisions about franchising or maintaining ownership, but expansion was easily within her grasp.
“I’m sorry,” said Maddie. “I’m getting on my soapbox. I just hate big corporate coffee like Cometcents. They offered to buy me out last year. I turned them down. But they still put in a franchise on the corner.”
I froze, then frowned, puzzled.
“There isn’t one there now.”
In the ten years I’d spent working for Cometcents, I’d made location longevity one of their brand hallmarks. Not that I wanted to mention that portion of my resume to Maddie.
