Chapter One

“I am spending entirely too much time with you, my dear.” I caressed the smoothness of my new love’s side. “People are going to say we’re an item.” I’d waited years for this moment, and now all I had to do was try not to screw things up. It would be a heartbreaking loss.

“You really are way into that new coffee roaster, aren’t you?” Glen, my single employee, barista extraordinaire, stood in the doorway between the front of the coffeehouse and the back. “I mean, I know you love it, but maybe try to take things slow or you know, just hold hands.”

“Funny.” I stepped back from my new acquisition with all the dials and buttons and ugh. “She’s a classic, you know. Not like all those new ones that you can operate from your phone.”

“Do they really work like that?” He seemed skeptical.

“Probably. I mean, I don’t know.” I walked around the roaster, examining it as if it could tell me what to do. “But I wanted this one.”

“The new ones come with things like manuals,” he pointed out. Why I ever hired this snarky kid…oh yeah. He came on time most days, didn’t mind doing any job around the place, and made great coffee. Also, he kept me from taking myself too seriously.

“Who needs instructions,” I intoned.

“You do.” Pulling out his phone, he tapped some keys and gave a nod. “Yep, turns out, this one had a manual too, and some nice person made a TikTok and a YouTube video. I sent a link to your email. For the YouTube. You can follow a link, right, boss?”

“Yeah.” If he wasn’t such a lifesaver, I’d have had something to say about his disrespect. “Thanks.”

“Mmm-hmm. I’m going back up front and wipe down the tables.”

“Good idea. I think I’ll go in the office and check out that video.” Unlike my barista, I preferred to watch videos on my laptop because of the larger screen. On the phone, I’d have needed my readers.

“Holler if you need help.” He disappeared before I could insist I would not need any help. It was pretty much a lie anyway. I probably would. “I’ll watch the vid too, when I get a minute.”

Really good idea, but his ego was big enough already. He didn’t need me to add to it.

I left the door open between the back kitchen, roastery area, and the office, preferring to be able to hear if things got busy. One of Glen’s few faults besides snark was thinking he could handle everything without help, and a few times, that had gotten him into trouble with customers. He was good, but not perfect.

Not quite as inept with technology as my helper implied, I brought up my email and clicked on the link he’d sent. A glance at the channel showed the guy who owned the manual had several old roasters, although he was more of a hobbyist than a professional. Still, his videos looked interesting, so I subscribed. At this point, I’d lost the vid I wanted and couldn’t remember what it was called. JavaJoker had hundreds of them, and I panicked before remembering I had the link and could simply backtrack and click on it again.

Maybe Glen was right about my Neanderthal tech skills.

I managed to get the video going and was watching the nice man make the behemoth roaster that took up most of one corner of my small kitchen look easy to operate. He even had an available download of the manual if I wanted it. I did. About three quarters of the way through, when I could almost smell the roasting beans, the sound of the bell over the front door cut through my concentration.

Every time it did, I tensed in reaction. I’d like to say the reason I believed my mate would walk in the door was because a wise woman or fortune teller or heck, even a fortune cookie told me he would. But this belief was not bestowed on me by anyone. I believed from the day I walked into this storefront and envisioned the coffeehouse it would become. Something about the cozy space, even when it was just walls and an expanse of faded carpet, held magic, and my bobcat was just as convinced. Like that baseball movie, if I opened a coffeehouse, they would come. Okay, not a perfect analogy.

I was often in the front of the house, but if not, that belief had me darting to the doorway to see who was there and if it was him. Or her. In the past, I’d had relationships with males and females, although none serious. And I’d stopped dating when I set up my business because it was so unfulfilling. At this point, it was a waiting game. One of the few friends I’d told about it thought it might be more a wish than a promise. But I had faith in Fate.

Also, if my cat believed, it wasn’t just me on my own.

Once again, the bell tolled, so I stood up and went to see if this time would be it. My mate. My other half arrived from somewhere far away to complete my half-life. The visitor was looking at a shelf of travel mugs, facing away from me. I held my breath.

And then he turned and approached the counter where he ordered a latte.

My cat rumbled in disappointment.

Again.