Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sophia

T he scent of strongly brewed coffee and freshly baked cinnamon rolls hits me the moment I push open the door to the coffee shop.

"Welcome to Coffee Loft," a tall drink of cool water calls from behind the counter.

I tear my eyes away and focus my attention on the establishment that's been the talk of the town of late. I can see the appeal of the cozy space, and if the coffee is as good as it smells, it should do well.

Judging by the crowd gathered, it already is.

"What can I get you?" the barista, who greeted me a moment ago, asks. He's at least six feet tall, wearing a dark blue shirt with the coffee shop's logo stretching across his broad chest.

I stare up at the board, dazzled by the choices. "How about a tall spiced vanilla latte?"

"Sure about that?" There's a hint of amusement in his deep voice.

I look into a pair of deep blue eyes that draw me in and have to remind myself to blink. "I'm sure," I say with as much confidence as I can muster.

"Coming right up." He turns, presenting me with an even better view of his broad shoulders and a crop of sandy hair that, under influence of the large ceiling fans, tousles like the dry sea grass in the Atlantic breeze.

I step back, allowing the next person in a long line of customers to place their order. The place is packed.

When a young couple who looks like they've been on a date leaves a small bistro table in the far corner, I practically race over and put down my bag before taking a seat under a bulletin board. Index cards are tacked to it, and a stack of them is sitting in a box on a small table next to mine.

"The Wishing Wall?" I ask no one in particular, reading the words out loud.

Several patrons turn to look at me like I've lost my marbles. I stand up and tug my sweater lower over my hips, stepping up for a closer look at the notecards tacked to the corkboard.

I scan through the handwritten notes, each of them expressing a wish, ranging from whimsical to heartfelt.

"It's something else, isn't it?" An older gentleman walks up and picks up an index card and pen.

"What do you know about it?" I ask.

"Not much. Only that the wishes have a way of coming true." He scribbles a few lines and tacks his card up with a pushpin.

"Do you know how long this has been here?" I point to the board.

The old man shrugs. "A few months? Long enough for word to get around town that this is the place to come if there's something you truly desire." He points to his heart.

"Any idea who put this up?" I ask, hoping for a hint to who might be responsible for the rumors I've heard about this place.

More shrugs. "No one knows."

I watch him walk off.

"He's right, you know." A young woman at the table next to mine turns to face me. "Those wishes have a way of coming true."

"Seriously?" I resist the urge to pull out the pen and notepad that is in my purse.

She nods. "My friend wished for a date with this guy she met at the dog park, and two days later, she ran into him, right here at Coffee Loft."

"Interesting." I'm not sure I believe the story.

"I'm Tracy, by the way." She holds out her hand, and I shake it. "I'm a bit of a regular. Especially since Jake started working here." Tracy points toward the counter where the barista that I placed my order with is busy working an impressive-looking espresso machine. His T-shirt stretches across broad shoulders, accentuating the muscles beneath. The man is in shape.

I turn back. "Sophia. It's nice to meet you."

"I don't think I've seen you here before." Tracy adjusts her chair to face me. "What brings you in today?"

"All the buzz about Coffee Loft, actually." I don't tell her that it's my boss at WILM-TV, the local station, who gave me this assignment. So far, I don't think it'll work as more than a cute little social media post with a picture of the Wishing Wall.

"I know, right?" Tracy grins. "It's been the talk of the town. There was a line this morning when I stopped in for my Lofty Iced Macchiato."

"Lofty?"

"Oh, they have these cute names for their largest drinks." Tracy holds up hers and I have to admit, it's an impressive amount of cold liquid.

"Lofty Spiced Vanilla Latte." The deep voice behind me startles me as it rumbles through my chest in an interesting way.

I turn and lose myself in those deep blue eyes that caught my attention earlier.

"Something wrong with it?" he asks, startling me out of my daydream.

I cough to cover my embarrassment and reach up to take the cup that matches the size of Tracy's. Unlike hers, my drink is hot and there's far more of it than I expected. "I thought I ordered a tall."

"You did. I upgraded you to a Lofty," Jake says with a smirk that does something to my insides. "Let's call it a first-time customer bonus."

"You didn't need to do that." I wrap both hands around the large cup, allowing the warmth to seep into my fingers.

"I know." The man winks—actually winks at me—and strolls off, giving me a nice view of a pair of well-fitting jeans.

"He's something, isn't he?" Tracy sighs before taking a call from her husband.

I sip my latte, which is surprisingly good. And probably a much better explanation for the coffee shop's popularity than this Wishing Wall I keep hearing about. The barista eye candy probably doesn't hurt either.

A few more people stop by the Wishing Wall. Most of them scan through the notes before finding a seat. A shy young woman with her hair pulled back into a ponytail scribbles a few notes on a card before quickly tacking it up and rushing off.

"People really believe in this, don't they?" I turn back to Tracy, who's wrapped up her call.

"Of course we do." Tracy grabs her purse and picks up her cup. "You'll come around when you see a few of them come true."

By the time I'm done with my latte, I have a page of notes about a segment I'm ready to pitch to my producer. I dial his number as I walk out of Coffee Loft and head down the road to my car.

"What did you think?" Thomas asks.

"It's popular, that's for sure." I laugh, tempted to turn back to see if there's a line forming at the glass door. "And you were right. The coffee is excellent."

"What's the story?" Thomas isn't one for chitchat.

I mentally flip through the hooks I've come up with. "They have a fresh spin on all the popular coffee drinks. But I don't think anyone wants another pumpkin spice story."

"Right?" I notice doubt in his tone. The popularity of the cinnamon and clove spice mixture has been hard to beat when the temperatures start to dip after another hot and humid summer.

"I'm thinking this is a human interest piece. A story about community." And a place where wishes come true.