Love is Brewing

Jake

A bell jingles when I open the door to the coffee shop.  The rich and nutty heavenly aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts toward me as I take in the quaint, eclectic space.  Light spills in the large windows, a circular table holding a group of elderly patrons laughing over their morning coffee sit to the left, and a large bookshelf dominates the wall in front of me.  I don’t immediately see the counter to order coffee, but hearing the espresso machine whir, I start walking down the hallway on the right towards the back of the building.  The long, narrow space seems to be broken into rooms by walls of bookshelves.  As I pass each stack, hidden nooks are revealed that hold cozy chairs or small intimate bistro tables.

Being in a college town, I expected the coffee shop to be slow as the fall semester doesn’t start for another two weeks, but this place seems to hum with the heartbeat of this small community.  A young professional sits in a deep leather bucket seat in front of his laptop with a steaming cup of coffee on a side table next to him.  I see a mother with her young children enjoying a breakfast pastry and reading nursery rhymes at one of the bistro tables.  Down another aisle, several girls that look to be in middle school lounge on bean bag chairs reading books.

As I reach the back of the shop,  it opens up into a larger space, and I see a line of people waiting to place their orders at the counter.  The buttery smell of fresh pastries hits my senses, making my mouth water, as I glance around the room.  There are shelves and stands that contain a myriad of things for sale, including spices, coffee beans, cookbooks, and greeting cards that look to be hand painted.  My eyes snag on a bulletin board with a neon green flyer advertising a local running group.  I quickly scoop my phone out of my pocket to scan the QR code.

As I’m putting my phone back in my pocket, a musical laugh fills the air.  I look up and see the barista behind the counter, head slightly tipped back, laughing and smiling brightly at a customer.  Everything around me stops and my breath catches in my throat as I take in this woman -  long chestnut brown hair tied back in a ponytail with a yellow polka dotted bandana, sparkling blue eyes lined with thick dark lashes, high cheekbones, cherry red lips.  She is wearing a simple black tee and high-waisted cut off jeans, revealing slender arms and toned legs.  A cheery yellow sunflower-patterned apron is tied around her slim waist.  My mouth waters even more, and it has nothing to do with the swirling aroma of pastries and espresso.

My eyes follow her fluid movements behind the counter, efficient and effortless as she chats with several customers waiting on their beverages.  I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at her when I hear someone clear her throat and say, “Sir? What can I get you?”

I snap my eyes to the girl in front of the register, frizzy blonde curls trying to escape her braid.  She’s looking at me impatiently, tapping her finger on the countertop.  Shit.  How many times has she asked me that?  Get it together man. 

“Um, I’ll have a large nitro cold brew with sweet cream please.”

“Can we get you anything to eat, or will that be all?” she asks, writing my order on a to-go coffee cup.

“That’s all, thanks,” I say, pulling out some cash from my wallet.

I move to the other side of the counter to wait on my drink.  My eyes wander back to the barista as she places a cup under the steam wand on the espresso machine, humming and slightly swaying to the soft music playing.  I’m mesmerized, unable to tear my gaze away from her.  

“Large nitro cold brew with sweet cream,” she says, walking towards the counter.

“That’s me,” I say, our eyes meeting as she looks up.  Our fingers brush as she hands me the to-go cup and electricity zings up my arm as my heart thrums faster in my chest.  

Still holding onto the cup, she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing, and says, “Are you new in town?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here.”

I laugh.  “Just moved in yesterday, actually.  Do you know most people who live here, or is it that obvious I’m an out-of-towner?”

She smiles in response.  “It’s a small town, and most students have yet to move back on campus for fall semester, so almost everyone who walks in here is a familiar face.  What brought you to Walnut Hill?”

“I’ll be teaching organic chemistry at the university this fall and heading up my own research lab.  I was hoping to get my bearings around campus before meeting with the dean this morning,”  I explain.

“Hm, I should have guessed.  The university is the main reason people come to this town.  Plus your coffee order should have given it away.”

“My coffee order?” I ask, laughing.

“Oh yes.  As a barista, I have learned that someone’s coffee order tells me everything I need to know about that person.  You’d be surprised what your order tells me about you,” she says in mock seriousness.

“Well, now I’m curious.  What does my coffee order say about me?” I ask, smiling.

“Nitro cold brew drinkers tend to be confident, straightforward and practical, and possess  a strong work ethic.  All traits desirable in a professor,” she responds, smiling back.

“Is that so?  It sounds like you have me all figured out already.  What about you?  What’s your coffee order?” 

“Ah, I don’t give my order away that easily,” she winks playfully.  “You’ll have to keep coming back if you really want to know.  I’m Sarah by the way.”

“Jake,” I respond, grinning.  At this moment, I realize we are both still holding onto my cup of coffee, and there is a line of people behind me waiting on their orders.

She seems to notice this at the same time and quickly drops her hand, stepping back.  “I should get back to work.  It was nice meeting you Jake.  Hope to see you around.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Sarah.”  I stare at her retreating back, the intoxicating moment we shared slowly dissipating.  I should get going so I’m not late for my meeting with the dean.

***

Sarah

Breathing heavily, my legs burn with effort as I pick up my pace.  Half a mile to go.  Even though the sun only started rising about twenty minutes ago, the air is already thick and heavy with humidity.  I try to distract myself from the discomfort by letting my mind wander to the newcomer who showed up at the trailhead this morning.  Every Tuesday and Thursday, the Walnut Hill Running Group organizes group runs, which are open to anyone who wants to join.  I try to make it to as many as I can, depending on my work schedule at the coffee shop.  I love this running community.  They have always been so welcoming to runners of all skill levels and offer unwavering support and encouragement.

When Jake showed up for the run this morning, I think he was as shocked to see me as I was to see him.  After he left the coffee shop yesterday, I spent the remainder of my shift daydreaming about him.  Dark brown hair, shorter on the sides and longer on the top, warm chocolate brown eyes, chiseled jawline, neatly trimmed beard.  He towered over everyone else in the shop, easily standing over six feet.  His soft gray v-neck t-shirt stretched over his broad chest that tapered to a trim waist, and dark denim jeans molded to his long legs.  I have never seen a more beautiful man.  

As I near the end of the trail, I see Jake standing with two other guys from the group and nearly trip over my feet as I take in his perfect body.  Since I first saw him this morning, his t-shirt has been removed.  Sweat glistens on his chest, every muscle carved with the precision of an artist.  Who knew someone could have so many abdominal muscles.

My watch signals that I’ve completed four miles, so I slowly come to a walk, gulping in air, finding I’m not just breathless from my run.  Get it together Sarah.  He’s not the first attractive man you’ve ever been around.

As I approach the group, my breath finally evening out as my heart rate returns to normal, our eyes meet and hold.  Unable to break his stare, I find myself walking right up to him as his lip quirks and says,  “Let me guess.  You drink black coffee since you’re fitness-oriented.”

“Ha! Sorry, but I’m not a black coffee drinker,” I answer.  “What do you think about the Walnut Hill Running Group?  Will you be a regular, or did we scare you off yet?” I tease.

His eyes crinkle when he smiles back at me.  “I’ve always been an avid runner, and it’s awesome to find people to run with.  I’m sure I’ll try to make most group runs.  What about you?  Are you a regular?”

“I try to join most of them depending on my work schedule at the coffee shop,” I answer.  “Running is where I find serenity.”

“I feel the same way about running.  It’s my outlet.  When I hit the trails, my stress melts away,” he responds.

He follows me over to the parking lot where the rest of the group is gathering.  “So if black coffee isn’t your drink, will you give me a clue as to what it might be?” he teases, eyes sparkling.  “I’d love to get to know you more, and a pretty barista once told me a coffee order can tell you everything you need to know about someone.”

I feel my cheeks warm at the compliment.  “Any other guesses?”

“Vanilla latte,” he smirks, “because you’re so sweet.”

“Oh my gosh - that’s terrible,” I laugh.  “People who order vanilla lattes do like simplicity and tend to be reliable, but that is not my drink of choice.”

He looks over at me thoughtfully.

“We typically go to breakfast at the coffee shop after our runs if you want to join,” I say, holding my breath, hoping he will come so that I can get to know him more.  

“I actually have to get back.  I need to get my office set up and take an inventory of the lab before the semester starts.  Maybe next time,” he replies.

Disappointed, I lift my chin and force a smile.  “Of course.  I’m sure you are busy with the upcoming semester.  Hope to see you around soon!”  I attempt to say as brightly as I can.

“Seeing as how I’m both an avid runner and coffee drinker, I can guarantee you’ll be seeing me soon.  Besides, I’m determined to figure out my favorite barista’s coffee order,” he says with a smile and a wink.  

Oh dear God.  I try not to swoon as I watch him walk away.

***

Jake

Exhausted after a long day of working in the lab, I drag myself into the coffee shop.  I still have so much work to do to prepare for the start of the semester.  I’m hoping to get a few more hours in today before calling it quits, but my body requires caffeine if I’m going to keep my eyes open.  I slowly make my way toward the back of the building, the familiar whir of the espresso machine leading the way.  I pull out my phone as I wait in line, reading through a mountain of emails all demanding my attention.  I fire off a few quick replies, when I hear a familiar voice.

“Nitro cold brew with sweet cream?”

I look up into a pair of sparkling blue eyes that are quickly becoming my favorite color.  Remembering how she looked this morning on the trail in her biker shorts and sports bra, my heart rate ticks up.  “If you remember my coffee order, I must be making an impression on you,” I say, grinning at her.

She rolls her eyes, smiling.  “That cocky response is exactly why you are a nitro cold brew drinker.”

“Not cocky.  Confident,” I respond, my smile growing wider.  “Are you going to tell me yet what your coffee drink is?”  

“What’s your guess tonight?” she asks playfully.

“Hm, I’m guessing a cappuccino,” I flirt back.

“Cappuccino drinkers tend to be more adventurous.  It’s a good guess, but that’s not my order.”  She smiles back at me as she starts making my drink.  “So what brings you into the coffee shop this evening?”

“I have some work to do and need a break from the lab.  I was hoping to snag one of the bistro tables, and it looks like I’m in luck.  It’s not as busy as the other morning when I was here.”

“Just wait until the students move back on campus for fall semester.  This place will be swimming with people.  It pays to know the barista if you don’t want to wait in a long line every morning,” she says, throwing a wink over her shoulder at me.  “Why don’t you go set up at one of the tables so you can get started, and I can bring your coffee out when it’s ready.”

“Ok, that would be great if you don’t mind,” I say, pulling out my wallet.

After I pay for my drink, I wander back down the hallway and find an empty nook with a bistro table.  Sitting down, I pull my laptop out of my leather bag and get to work.  A few minutes later, Sarah softly pads into the nook with my drink and sets it on the table along with a chocolate croissant.

“I made a fresh batch of croissants a little earlier, and thought you might want one.”  She surprises me by sitting down at the table and looking wistfully at the bookshelves.  “I love it here in the evenings when it’s quiet like this.  Sometimes it’s just me and the books.  Running is one of my escapes, but reading is my first love.  I love to get lost in a story and experience the ups and downs, the hopes and thrills, right along with the characters.”

I stare at her, enchanted by her words.  I can picture her snuggled up on one of the chairs with a blanket and book in her hand.  I love the little things she reveals about herself, and I find myself hungry to learn more about this woman.  “What are your favorite books to read?”

“Romance, of course,” she answers, looking down at the table with a shy smile.  “Since it’s dead in here, I’m actually going to close up the shop early.  But feel free to work here as long as you want.  If you need anything, just let me know,” she says, and then walks towards the front of the shop.  I smile to myself, pleased that she feels comfortable enough around me to let me stay in the shop with her while she closes up.

Forty-five minutes later, my eyes are starting to glaze over as I run my hand through my hair, pulling slightly at the strands in an attempt to keep myself awake.  I attempt to read my document again, but find myself reading the same two sentences, unable to keep my attention on my work any longer.  Calling it quits, I shut my laptop, put it back in my bag, and wander towards the back of the shop.

Sarah is wiping down the counters when I walk in the back room.  “Hey, is there something I can get you?”

“No, I’m done with work for the day.  There comes a point when you’re just not going to get anything productive done anymore, and I think I reached that two hours ago,” I reply, yawning.

She laughs, the sound sending tingles down my spine.  “I’m all done here.  If you give me a minute, I’ll grab my bag, and we can walk out together.”

When she ducks into the office, my eyes snag on the greeting cards again.  I look a little closer and notice they are signed.  Sarah walks out from behind the counter before I can linger on the cards any longer, and I follow her out the side door.

“Will I see you at the coffee shop tomorrow morning?” I ask, desperate to keep seeing her.

“I’ll be here,” she answers with a smile.

***

Sarah

A prickle of awareness tickles my spine.  Even though my back is facing the entrance to the cafe as I prepare a drink, I somehow know Jake is here.  I glance over my shoulder, and there he is standing at the end of the line studying a display of greeting cards wearing black joggers and a white henley.  He looks absolutely edible this morning.

“Nitro cold brew with sweet cream?” I ask, smiling at him when he reaches the counter.

“Please.  I’d also like to order an iced chai latte for my favorite barista,” he smiles shyly.

My smile widens as I ask, “How’d you figure it out?”

“Well, people who drink iced chai lattes tend to be creative and romantic, at least from what I learned online.  I noticed these hand-painted greeting cards the first day I was in here, and realized they are signed by you.  Given your artistic talent and that you also love to read romance novels, I’m guessing that’s your drink,” he says, now staring at me intently.  

“I’m impressed,” I respond, held spellbound by his fiery gaze.

“Would you like to have a coffee date with me this morning?” he asks quietly.

“I’d love to.”