Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2) Page 3

  What a perfect setting for a romance novel.

  I’d read my fair share of mountain romances. Handsome stranger fetches feisty woman from inevitable death in a whirling snowstorm. Forced to stay in the same cabin, they secretly connect and realize they’ve never been so disarmed by someone else before.

  I stared at the ceiling and blinked.

  Odd.

  I’d read almost every romance novel in existence. Dreamt of the day I’d live my own because, frankly, I’d dated almost no one in college. Now I sat in a literal storyline for a perfect romance. And all I could think about was my pale eyelashes. Or the awkward fact that, when I read romance books, I often pictured JJ as the love interest.

  Which just made all of this totally surreal and weird.

  A quick review confirmed it: I was definitely stuck in a cabin, in a storm, having been saved by the one man I couldn’t have but always wanted. Last night should have been far sexier. Really, it had just been terrifying.

  So . . . when would the ultra-giddy romance vibes hit me?

  Soon.

  Maybe after the crushing reality that I’d almost lost my life—and definitely lost my car—faded. Not only the car, but my phone with pictures of little baby Shane. The keys to the coffee shop. Some newly purchased winter clothes. My laptop.

  The surge of panic that swelled in my chest ebbed quickly this time. All of that didn’t matter. The pictures were backed up to the cloud. I could replace my car and laptop . . . eventually. There was car insurance, even if it wasn’t the best because I’d limped by as a college student.

  At least I hadn’t died.

  Regardless, the romance books never covered braless nights and invisible eyebrows. They sped right to the sparks and fireworks. But this? This was crusty reality. My car and accoutrements had just plunged into an icy abyss.

  Besides, the idea of anything between me and JJ was a literal dream. Not only was he nine years older, but a declared perpetual bachelor. He wouldn’t fit anywhere in my ultra-specific, very-much-happening-soon plans.

  After landing my dream job at my favorite social media company, Pinnable, I would have a storybook romance, get married, and have babies. That’s when I’d settle into the sort of magical romance that Bethany and Maverick had.

  The one I craved all the way to my bones.

  I would have marriage and babies while armed with a college degree—because Mama never did care about education, and I’d die before I ended up like her.

  But first, I’d make breakfast.

  For the next ten minutes, I shuffled through cupboards and the mini fridge, tiptoeing around so I didn’t wake the Bailey boys. The open floorplan transmitted sound like an empty cave.

  Finally, I settled on pancake mix made with water instead of milk and the last of a dozen eggs. No bacon, sausage, or OJ in the fridge. Some old, frostbitten breakfast sandwiches lingered at the back of a tiny freezer, but I wasn’t putting my hand back there. Only bachelors would run out of food in advance of a blizzard. I bet they only had one roll of toilet paper, too.

  Pancakes were easy enough, although I really wasn’t into the food scene. But making them on a hot plate in the middle of what should have been a camp office?

  Not my kind of party.

  Still, I endured. Because JJ deserved a light, happy breakfast to counter the intensity of last night.

  The hot plate smelled like burnt iron as it warmed, and I wafted away a few initial fumes while I stirred batter with a plastic spoon. The first two pancakes were a total flop, so I set those aside. The third came out half-decent. Just then, someone appeared from the attic.

  “Lizbeth?”

  JJ languorously stretched his arms above his head, eyelashes heavy against the morning light. My heart gave a little whomp at the adorable, sleepy way he smiled. Why did men always have the biggest eye fans? Mine were so light they were almost translucent. Putting on mascara changed me incalculably.

  “Smells good down here.”

  There it was—the rush of giddiness at the sound of his still-sleepy voice didn’t disappoint. The way his muscled arms reached overhead in taut perfection gave my heart a second reason to race. Romance books had something perfect, all right: there was definite beauty in the male form.

  “Good morning,” I said, gaze averted.

  He paused. His gaze dropped to the semi-chaos around me. I prayed there wasn’t batter on my face.

  “Are you . . .”

  “Making you breakfast. I guarantee nothing. But I . . . I wanted to do something nice for you. It’s poor thanks but . . .”

  “It’s amazing.”

  He blinked several times. His mouth parted as if he were about to say something, but then he stopped.

  “I’m not great with a hot plate.” I grimaced. “But I think they’re edible.”

  “I bet they’re the best I’ve tasted. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone else cooked around here. Did you sleep okay?”

  “Better than in a freezing river.”

  Mark’s barking laugh broke the still morning. “Good one,” he called from the attic. Footsteps thundered down the ladder.

  He appeared, hand shoved through his shaggy hair, with a growl of frustration. His eyes were bright, face darkly stubbled. The usual intensity of his bright, ever-changing expression wasn’t dimmed by the early hour. Mark was quite handsome . . . if you could get him to stop moving.

  “Morning,” he sang in a grating operetta.

  “You look like a bear,” JJ said.

  Mark threw something at him as he walked past, clad in flannel pajama pants and an old race T-shirt that said, Tough Mudder. His broad shoulders filled it out. He disappeared into the bathroom.

  Concern filled JJ’s expression. “You sleep all right?” he asked me.

  “Yeah. Yes. I mean, in the light of day, it’s not all quite so overwhelming. And I’m alive, right? So I’m definitely okay.”

  JJ glanced outside and grimaced. “The sort-of light of day.”

  He pulled back repurposed pillowcases that doubled as drapes to reveal another foot of snow. I could just make out the Zombie Mobile coated so thick with white that it almost blended into the forest. Flurries whirled around it.

  “Pretty cool storm, isn’t it?” he asked.

  I had other opinions about extreme winter weather. “It’s something,” I muttered.

  JJ laughed and stepped behind me, setting a hand on my shoulder as he pulled a cup out of a high cupboard. Was he always so touchy? I’d take it seven days a week. My heart woke up again at the heavy heat of his hand.

  “It’s supposed to last through the day,” he said, “but without as much wind. I think it’ll taper off in the night. I bet the canyon opens back up in the morning if there aren’t any avalanches. Coffee?”

  “Already going.” I pointed to the Keurig across the way. “Now that is one food I can make.”

  “You’re a godsend.”

  He squeezed my shoulder, then turned to the machine. There was no frisson of electricity that slid between us. No unreadable frown on his face as his skin touched mine. No small gasp that I tried to hide at the unexpected fireworks of his touch. But his firm hand on a cold winter day was comfort without words.

  Mark hurried upstairs to the attic, phone already to his ear, while I finished the pancakes. JJ set out some faded plates and camping utensils. When we finally settled at the table with my almost-pancakes-mostly-crepe-looking-concoctions, Mark slid back down the ladder again and into the kitchenette with a whoop.

  “I am the literal master of the universe. I figured it out, JJ. I did it!” Mark punched the air once, his expression taut with energy. “I know what I’m going to build on that lot I bought in Pineville last year.”

  “What?”

  “A spa.”

  Mark stopped for a second to take in JJ’s reaction. When JJ’s face scrunched, Mark started to pace.

  “A spa?” JJ asked.

  “A full-service day spa. Mani.
Pedi. Hair. Fingers. Meditation. Whatever it is people do in places like that, I want in.”

  “Mark, that’s . . . insane.”

  Mark rolled his eyes in the most dramatic fashion I’d seen since Ellie turned eight. “It’s not insane, JJ! It’s good business. Crazy people are hated all the time for their progressive ideas.”

  “A spa? In Pineville? Population 100?”

  “It’s a business idea, not a cultural revolution.” Mark threw himself into a chair. “The people in Pineville are way too wound up. They could use a few massages. Pineville is adorable, right? A cozy little mountain town. What better advertising is there for a place to relax? This could create more traffic, which would boost the economy. It’s so close to Jackson City that we have a guaranteed funnel from . . .”

  Mark trailed off as he jogged to his desk in the other room and grabbed a piece of paper. Then he came back to the table to frantically scribble on it. There was more space to be agitated behind his desk, but he seemed glued to JJ. I tilted my head to the side, a syrupy piece of pancake on the end of my fork.

  How interesting.

  “Is he always like this?” I whispered to JJ.

  JJ nodded with a sigh. “It’s worse when he’s cooped up like this in the winter, though. Mark very spontaneously bought a lot on his own last year. Normally we’ve done our business ventures together, but this time he used his own cash. He’s trying to figure out what to do next.”

  “Obviously any good spa has a salon—” Mark continued, this time slashing lines across the piece of paper. A few scrawled numbers came next, then something that wasn’t legible. Perhaps a list.

  “It won’t turn a profit for years, Mark,” JJ said. “You’ll have a steep build-out.”

  “True. Good point. Heavy build-out.”

  “You sound like you’ve done this before,” I murmured.

  JJ nodded. “He always has ideas.”

  “Okay, fine,” Mark muttered. He scribbled something on the next page. “What if I start it as a hair salon and eventually grow the offerings? Reduces the build-out and decreases time to profit. Millie Blaine has been looking for a new space since the previous salon owner shut down and left town.”

  “You’re going to build a three thousand square foot building for a salon?” JJ asked as he peered at Mark’s scribbles.

  “No, a spa!”

  JJ muttered something unintelligible in response while he scooped a few pancakes onto his plate. The smell of butter and syrup lay thick on the air now. The banter bounced back and forth between them like a ping-pong ball.

  Fascinating. So this was the Bailey brothers in their natural habitat. I chewed on a piece of pancake as I watched. For having been made on a hot plate, these were delicious.

  “Opening a spa would seriously cut into your plans for next year,” JJ said.

  “I won’t run the spa,” Mark mumbled, deep in thought. “Someone else will. I’m just funding and giving the initial push. I’ll need a manager.”

  “He wants to go full mountain man,” JJ said to me as an aside. “Beard, attitude, flannel, everything. He said it was his goal next year to finally realize it. He just needs a little more guaranteed income to make it happen.”

  “A man can only dream,” I said wryly.

  JJ waved Mark back to his seat. “Mark, eat breakfast. Keep thinking on it. You’ll have to round up some investors, anyway, so let the idea simmer.”

  Mark rubbed a hand over his scruffy face. He tossed the pen away and shoved the papers under a plate JJ had set out for him. “Fine. You’re right. But keep thinking on it. I’m willing to bet the idea grows on you. You survived the night, Lizzy?”

  “Thanks to your hospitality, yes.”

  “You can stay with us anytime you drive your car off a cliff.”

  I snorted into my coffee.

  Mark winked. Several minutes passed in companionable, hungry silence. Mark flipped through his phone, muttering under his breath, spitting out details on the weather. JJ seemed lost in thought as he stared at the top of the table. The pancakes disappeared quickly to their wolfish appetite.

  Mark swore at his phone when the internet failed, then stood up. “Thanks, Lizbeth. Breakfast was delicious. We’ll see how the weather does later today. I might be able to take you home. More likely I’ll take you tomorrow when I leave for a business meeting.”

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  He stalked out of the room, cursing the gods of mountain internet. I watched JJ slowly unwind in the aftermath.

  “When did you guys get internet, anyway?” I asked.

  “A couple months ago,” said JJ, still shaking his head. “It’s actually not too bad. Faster than I expected it to be when Netcast announced they were expanding out here in the canyon. Does seem to be hit-or-miss in bad weather. But it’s really letting Mark go full steam ahead with his expansion plans.”

  “Oh, is that why you guys haven’t been in the Frolicking Moose as much lately?” I teased with a grin. “I was afraid you’d found a new favorite coffee shop.”

  He shot me a quizzical look, like he was surprised I’d noticed, and I scrambled to change the subject.

  “What do you do while Mark does . . . all this?” I asked casually. My coffee mug half-covered my face. Not only was I hesitant to ask, but I didn’t have a book to hide behind. Coffee was the next best thing.

  JJ froze. I held my breath.

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look back at me. “Ah . . . stuff here and there.”

  “Oh. Prep for summer campers?”

  “Sort of.”

  Silence fell around us, which gave me ample time to study him. His hair was tied out of his face. He wore a pair of workout pants and a T-shirt with a picture of a climber on the back. Sleep lingered in his eyes.

  Why was he so weird about such a simple question?

  What did a man like JJ do to stay busy in the wilds of Adventura? Maybe nothing. Maybe he was bored out of his mind. But something in his response told me there was a hidden layer here. This seemed like the perfect world for him. He and Mark fit together like twin puzzle pieces that fed off one another.

  JJ took a deep breath. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Mark breezed back through the room like a hurricane.

  “Internet is gone-zo, bro. Hate these storms. Had a text from Justin last night, though. He got snowed in after his date with Meg. Said he’ll be back when the roads open. He took Atticus with him.”

  “Glad he’s safe.”

  Mark grabbed something from his desk, then returned to the attic.

  “Climbing is my world,” JJ said to me then. “But it’s not easy to live off money from climbing.”

  “So you and Mark came up with Adventura?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But in the winter?”

  He shrugged. “I have a . . . few things in the works. For the most part, I make a lot of food, do a lot of hiking, and help Justin with maintenance if it’s needed.”

  Sounded . . . like not much.

  “Oh,” I said, because what else was there to say?

  JJ leaned back in his chair. “Mark and I have only ever known life together. Born together. Grew up together. Graduated high school together. Moved to college together. We’ve traveled the world . . . together. Started several other stupid companies that failed. Eventually, we bought Adventura together. We’ve pushed through our parents’ bad marriage and nasty divorce. Ex-girlfriends, broken bones, you name it. We’ve experienced it. Together. We’ve never been apart for more than a few weeks at a time.”

  The picture slowly became clearer. “You want a chance to be on your own, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.” He hesitated. “But maybe not. I know I want to climb, but that doesn’t pay the bills.”

  “Mark seems to have endless ideas.”

  He grinned. “Yes, he has that. But I don’t want to keep investing in businesses. That’s his thing, which is why he’s doing this . . . spa . . . without me. He’s a brilli
ant man. Energetic. Full of ideas. He’s not really afraid of anything. Since our parents’ divorce, he’s sort of been the glue that’s kept me, Megan, and him together. But that’s not who I am or what I want.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  He hesitated, gaze on me. “Not sure yet. Still working that out.”

  I could sense that JJ had opened up as much as he ever would. He yanked his hair out of its bun and ran his hands through it. I jerked my gaze back to the pancakes to avoid an awkward open-mouthed-drooling encounter.

  “Anytime you need to talk about it,” I said, “I’m here.”

  His mouth cracked a half smile as he grabbed the empty plates from the small table. “You mean you didn’t expect to do therapy while you were here?”

  “Naturally, I did. It’s being Mark’s therapist that scares me the most.”

  His laugh rang through the snowy cabin, warming me all the way to my bones.

  6

  JJ

  Lizbeth had curled up like a cat on the couch. Unexpectedly, having someone else in this house had been . . . nice. Despite being a contented bachelor who loved the quiet, I didn’t want her to stop talking. I only knew her as the barista at the Frolicking Moose. Mark and I bummed Wi-Fi off there all the time. She had a green tea ready whenever she saw me coming and seemed happy enough, if occasionally quiet. But I’d never really noticed her.

  Now I couldn’t stop.

  “Liz,” I called, “you up for Scrabble?”

  Snow was still collecting rapidly outside, but the wind had calmed. Within the hour, I’d start unburying the truck and shoveling the worst of it away from the door.

  Lizbeth set aside Robinson Crusoe with a cheery expression. “Anything but this, please.”

  “You don’t like the classics?”

  “Not those classics.”

  “Ooh, do tell.”

  “Truthfully, I mostly read romance, but for every five romance books I read, I venture into a different genre. It’s a rule. It keeps me from getting too jaded.”