Lovesick (Coffee Shop Series Book 2) Page 6

  “No.” She scoffed. “They’re too unrealistic. Like a good mother of four, I watch animated animals through a streaming service. At the end of the day, I try to pretend like I’m a single woman and go to bed at seven thirty after a glass of wine.”

  “Sweet baby pineapple, Leslie. Give me something here.”

  She spread her arms. “I am, Lizbeth. This is the most romantic my brain gets. This is the most I’ve thought about romance in . . . years. My life is not like yours. I don’t have the mental space to prioritize it.”

  My shoulders slumped. While not ideal, it still all helped. I couldn’t let JJ ever talk to her, though. They’d agree on far too much.

  “Well,” she sighed as she stood. “Good talk. I need to go root through my laundry and find where I misplaced my life.”

  “Best of luck.”

  She snorted. “I need it. Also.” She pointed dramatically to the porch. “I almost died on that ice.”

  “I’ll fix it.”

  After she left, I stared down at the paper with a frown. I wasn’t naive. I knew romance wasn’t a priority for some people, and I knew a lot of people thought it was frippery. Silly. A way to escape troubles. Which it was.

  But it was also more.

  How do I get JJ to see that? And, of course, there was a deeper question: Why does he need to?

  That was the question I didn’t want to answer.

  I straightened with a sigh. A slightly acrid smell filled my nose, then disappeared. I glanced around, saw nothing, and sniffed again. Must have imagined it.

  My morning had consisted of making coffee and creating this binder. Using my brain to reduce romance to a ledger had been a fun challenge. Programming required far more creativity than most people realized. Organization was important, but so was flexibility when it came to data. Today felt good.

  Hopefully, work at Pinnable would feel equally good.

  I took my binder upstairs, set it lovingly on my bookshelf, and studied the titles. Sometimes, I just liked to look at them. When I lived with Mama and Dad, we never had money for books. I’d grasped onto them at the library like they’d save my life.

  And they had.

  I wound down the stairs and headed out the back door and into the storage shed, where I searched for the bag of ice salt. After almost ten minutes, I located the bag, plus a trowel and shovel, and headed carefully to the front with Leslie’s words ringing in my mind. In the breeze, snow had drifted back onto the porch and stairs in front of the store.

  The strange smell came again, like . . . burning tires.

  “What is that?” I murmured.

  A quick glance around Main Street revealed nothing. I set the salt down and reached for the shovel. The snow on the stairs thawed quickly, so I stepped up onto the porch. My eyes caught a flicker inside. When I turned to peer through the window, my heart dropped to my stomach.

  Flames consumed the far wall of the shop.

  10

  JJ

  The scent of snow and fresh apples lingered in the air as I wheeled around the grocery store in Pineville, trying to not think about Lizbeth. Her quick-to-smile lips. The light that carried her around. She had alabaster skin with freckles I found a step beyond charming.

  And distracting.

  I stood in the middle of the vegetables and frowned at a rutabaga for who knew how long. A quick glance confirmed no one seemed to have noticed. I shoved it into the cart and moved toward the dairy section. Maybe it was time for Mark to try out a new chocolate mousse recipe. Still, I needed some cheesecloth and cake flour.

  Ten minutes later, I wheeled my squeaky cart out of the store, stopped at the Zombie Mobile, and shoved all the groceries inside. Then I spared myself a glance across the street.

  Then another one.

  Was that smoke billowing out of the back of the Frolicking Moose?

  The bright flicker of orange flames was visible through the windows. With a sinking feeling in my chest, I abandoned the Zombie Mobile and dashed through the parking lot and across the slushy road. The smell of burning wood filled the air as I approached, running past an old woman who had stopped on the sidewalk to stare.

  “Call 911!” I barked. “Now!”

  She fumbled in her pocket, eyes wide. Heat rushed out of the shop as I leapt up the stairs and slipped inside.

  “Lizbeth!” I called. “Get out!”

  “No!”

  She stood behind the counter, a fire extinguisher in her hands. Several white patches already coated the far wall, but the crackling flames had ascended to the ceiling. I grabbed her by the coat and yanked her back. Heat blazed over us.

  “It’s too late!”

  “It’s not! Grab the hose at the sink. We can still put it out!”

  “We can’t. It’s already on the ceiling. It might even be on the next floor.”

  She stumbled back with a cry, fighting me at every step. The fire extinguisher still spurted at random as she flailed, attempting to hit any part of the flame.

  “It’s not worth your life!”

  “This is my life, JJ!”

  Thankfully, she was small. I hooked an arm around her and carted her outside without an issue. Choking smoke burned my eyes. I coughed. She gasped, dropping to her knees when I released her into the snow a safe distance away. When she looked back at the burning building, her mouth opened wordlessly. Not far away, the old woman spoke frantically into her phone.

  “Fire at the coffee shop,” she stammered. “It’s a bad blaze!”

  Flames consumed the back roof, vaulting over the top in a terrifying dance. How could it move so quickly? Then again . . . in a building so old, with planked wood on the outside and a non-metal roof, how could it not?

  Lizbeth let out a cry. “My books!”

  With a quick hand, I grabbed her shoulder before she could move again. There was no real fight in her. She collapsed back to the ground with an unintelligible whisper.

  A few things lay in the snow, and I realized she’d had the presence of mind to gather the money out of the register and a few binders. Probably pitched them outside before attacking with the extinguisher.

  For several shocked moments, I waited to hear sirens. Pineville was too small for a full-time fire department. The 911 dispatch would have to page volunteers, who would have to leave their lives, get to the station, and then come here.

  It could be too late by then.

  It almost was.

  The three of us stood there in a silence interrupted only by the crackle of flames and the hum of cars creeping by. All of Pineville’s Main Street seemed to spill outside to watch. A warm body appeared at my side. Mark.

  “What happened?” he asked, breathless. “I saw the flames and ran over from the bank.”

  I shrugged helplessly. “Don’t know.”

  Mark glanced at my hold on Lizbeth, then back to the coffee shop.

  “Everyone out?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  What felt like an eternity later, sirens broke the weird quiet. The fire truck approached, lights blazing. I pulled Lizbeth off the ground and kept her propped up by an arm around her shoulders. A hose appeared. Then came the sound of gushing water and organized shouts. Smoke lay acrid in the air.

  “Call Maverick,” I said to Mark as I handed him my phone. “His number is in my texts from when Lizbeth messaged him. He needs to be here. If Bethany answers, don’t say anything to her.”

  Mark nodded. “Of course.”

  He stepped away as I grabbed Lizbeth’s arms and forced her to look at me. Her gaze was surprisingly clear. Emotion-free. She stared at me with wide eyes glazed by shock.

  “Everything is going to be all right, Lizbeth. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

  “Everything is gone,” she whimpered.

  “But you aren’t.”

  She crashed into me with a little sob.

  11

  Lizbeth

  How did fire move so fast?

  This was my fau
lt.

  No, they said it was likely old wiring.

  What if I’d been asleep?

  Hours later, my thoughts whirled in a frenzy. A warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders and jerked me out of the spiral. Ellie stood behind me. Her dog, a gentle but massive Rhodesian Ridgeback named Thor, trailed on her heels.

  Ellie sank down on the nearest chair, studying me with a concerned look while Thor settled at her feet. Nursing pads and a breast pump littered the table. I scooted them aside, propped my elbows on the flat surface, and leaned my face into my palms.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “Fine. I promise.”

  “Can you stop almost dying, please?”

  Her plea wasn’t humorous at all. I looked at her helplessly.

  Bethany slipped into the room in a pair of obnoxiously pink slippers. “Shane finally fell asleep.” She yawned. “My arm is numb and both my nipples almost cracked, but that child is quiet, so I’ll take it.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “Bethie, do you—”

  “No, I don’t hate you.” She sat down next to me. Her gaze softened. “I could never hate you, Lizbeth.”

  “But it’s your dad’s shop. I was there. It—”

  “Wasn’t your fault.”

  She reached across the table and laid a hand on mine. Her touch instantly soothed me. I relaxed beneath the warm weight of the blanket. The world had turned upside down in the space of a breath again, and the realization startled me.

  Ellie let out a long, slow sigh and slumped back against the chair. Her gaze darted outside. Devin must be on his way over.

  “I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” Bethany murmured with a little shake of her head. As if she, too, couldn’t believe it. “Actually, I feel terrible. If it’s old, faulty wiring, how could I let you live there?”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “Maybe we should have had it checked before now. Cause is not confirmed, of course, but I have little doubt it’s the wiring. That shop is so old . . .” She trailed off, then shook her head again. Her bloodshot eyes met mine. “I’m just glad you’re okay. If this had happened while you were sleeping, or if you hadn’t been able to get away, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

  The minutes before I’d noticed the fire replayed through my head again. “I smelled something but couldn’t figure it out. It . . . smelled sharp. I was only outside like ten minutes, but . . .”

  “Long enough for it to get going. They think the fire began in the back and then moved up the back wall. Everything there was so old, the wood so dry, that it burned fast.”

  “Everything is gone from the attic, isn’t it?” I asked.

  She hesitated.

  “That’s what they reported to Maverick,” Ellie said softly, casting a pained look my way.

  Car. Home. Job. Computer. Clothes. Phone. All wiped out within days. All my books, most likely. How could they have survived? The fire climbed that wall.

  Tears filled my eyes. What next?

  Where next?

  I literally had the clothes on my back. That was it. It seemed so ridiculous, I couldn’t even fathom that it was real. Of course I could stay with Bethany and Maverick. Would have to. But for how long?

  They had a new baby, plus Ellie and her dog, chickens, and a goat. Could I move back here after living on my own?

  Did I have a choice?

  In the background, Maverick spoke to the insurance agency on the phone. Bethany wore a pair of his sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Her silky black hair was pulled away from her face in a messy knot. I’d never seen her this tired. Despite the humming chaos of a baby-filled house, she still wore a light swipe of lipstick. Her power shade.

  We sat in the silence for several minutes more before Maverick joined us. He ran a hand over his bleary face and muttered, “Stupid insurance companies,” as he sat down next to Bethany. He put a hand on her shoulder with a questioning glance. She nodded as if to say she was fine. He didn’t move his hand.

  This was the second call in the space of forty-eight hours he’d made that involved some major accident and me.

  “Sorry, Mav,” I said, “I don’t know what to say. I swear, none of this was intentional. The car, the store. I’m a walking disaster.”

  He sent me a sharp look. “Don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault.”

  “Still . . .”

  “Are you okay?” he asked me pointedly. “I haven’t gotten a chance to check on you in all this. JJ said you were fighting it with a fire extinguisher until he pulled you out.”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  “That shop doesn’t matter at all,” he said. “Only you and Ellie, got it?”

  Unable to speak for fear of sobbing again, I simply nodded. Bethany leaned toward him, bags under her eyes as she yawned. He scooted closer to let her rest against his chest.

  “What did the insurance people say?” she asked sleepily.

  “They’re sending an adjuster out next week.”

  She murmured something, eyes at half-mast. “’Kay.”

  Maverick squeezed her shoulder. “Go lie down, Bethany. Lizbeth, Ellie, and I will take care of the rest.”

  “I need to make dinner.”

  “I already started it,” Ellie said.

  “I didn’t do the laundry.”

  “I’ll fold it,” I said.

  “Lizbeth needs to talk this out. I—”

  A mega yawn cut off the rest of her response. Before she could refuse again, Maverick picked her up off the chair and carried her out of the room, his prosthetic leg thumping on the floor as he moved. I stood, arms filled with dirty baby bottles. After shoving the bottles in soapy water, I gathered up the rest of the dishes and pushed them in too.

  A gentle growl came from Thor seconds before Ellie said, “Heads up.”

  A knock sounded at the door. I glanced out the windows to see Mark and JJ standing on the porch. Even after all that had just happened, my stomach flipped.

  They were the last people I wanted to see right now.

  I motioned for Ellie to stay put and answered the door myself. Relief crossed JJ’s face the moment our eyes met.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” A cold brush of air accompanied them, so I immediately pulled the door open wider. “Come on in.”

  They stomped their heavy boots off before trekking inside. Mark waved toward Ellie. She didn’t reciprocate.

  “We came to check on our new damsel in distress,” Mark said with a wink.

  “Thanks,” I said wryly. “She’s fine.”

  I motioned them farther into the room, closer to the roaring fire in the hearth that Maverick had installed himself a few years ago. He’d inherited this house from his grandfather and had been doing renovations ever since he moved in. Before they could settle onto a couch, Maverick returned.

  “Greetings, gentlemen,” he said in his rolling baritone. The three of them shook hands in a gruff, manly way. Then Maverick turned the full power of his gaze on JJ. “Thank you for rescuing my daughter twice, JJ.”

  Maverick ignored my dramatic eye roll.

  “I didn’t rescue her this time,” JJ said. “Just helped her out.”

  “How much of the shop is gone?” Mark asked.

  “Over half, I think.” Mav ran a hand over his head. “The main area is fine except for smoke damage and some floor that got eaten up, but the area behind the counter is scorched.”

  “Adjuster coming soon?”

  “Yeah.”

  JJ studied me while Mark and Mav fell into business talk about the fallout.

  “Sure you’re all right?” JJ asked quietly. Concern filled his gaze.

  I nodded. “Thank you again.”

  He smiled in a gentle way that made my heart catch, like someone had just pulled a string through it.

  He shook his head. “Rough week, right?”

  “Yeah.” I managed a wobbly smile. “Very.”

  The lo
ss hit me again. Not only my car, which was mostly inconvenient, but everything else. My job. My ability to pay my student loans. The people who came in for coffee every day and had become my friends.

  My books.

  Tears clogged my throat every time I thought about it.

  Maverick motioned us onto the couch once their chatter died, and I realized I’d frowned at the floor for an awkward amount of time. JJ and Mark sat together, across from us.

  Mark leaned forward and looked right at me. “Lizbeth, I’m glad you’re all right. But that’s not the only reason we came.”

  “Oh?”

  Mark’s gaze flickered to Maverick before returning to me. “I know everything is crazy right now, but once it settles down, I want to offer you a job.”

  “A job?”

  “I need help in the worst way.”

  After a moment of astonished silence, I asked, “What kind of help?”

  “Today I pitched my spa idea to some local investors, and they’re excited about it. But I need a little more backing. The bank may be willing to make up the leftovers if I can’t pull enough support, but I want to try a different route first. I need to be able to focus on that while . . . other things are taken care of.”

  It didn’t take a degree in computer programming to know what he needed. “You need websites.”

  And a live-in maid. A hairdresser would be welcome, and so would an interior designer, but I’d tack that on later.

  “Among other things,” he said.

  “What other things?”

  “I need everything I have now organized online. Up until today, I’ve lived and breathed paper because I like to feel and see it. My mind remembers contracts and information better when it’s tactile.” He put a hand to his head. “If I can see something and touch it, I never forget it. But . . . well, let’s say the fire at the Frolicking Moose made me realize that our own building isn’t so young and I have nothing backed up.”

  He shrugged as if to say, What do you do?

  The disaster that was his desk flitted to mind. If all his business records were there, only on paper, he absolutely could lose everything.

  “Okay.”