You Mocha Me Crazy (Coffee Loft: Fall Collection)

17. Aurora

Chapter seventeen

Aurora

As Bradley packs up to drive me home—and stay over, apparently—I can’t stop staring at the mug wall . . . of course, it doesn’t hurt that I got to watch Bradley’s arms flex every time he shifted to put it in place.

No one has ever done anything this grand for me before. Sure, my parents bought me gifts, but they were generic for the most part. Things they thought I could use, or the popular thing that everyone wanted.

My dad may be a successful businessman now, but growing up, we struggled just like everyone else in this small town. Which is part of why, while he’s helping me with my business, he’s mostly a silent partner. Only stepping in to offer advice. He believes in hard work, making something of yourself, and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.

“I’m ready when you are,” Bradley says, entering the dining room from the back. “Trash has been taken out to the dumpster, and the back door is locked tight.”

I push up from my seat at the bar, handing him a to-go cup.

“What’s this?” he asks, taking a sip. I watch as his eyes go wide. “S’mores hot chocolate?”

I nod. “I thought you might like that.”

He grins and takes another sip of the sweet concoction. “You need to add this to the menu, it’s delicious!”

My smile turns into a yawn. “I’ll think about it,” I say, rubbing my eyes.

“Okay,” Bradley says, grabbing his toolbox and keys. “Let’s go.”

Bradley takes my elbow with his free hand as we walk out the front door. “You certainly are a gentleman. When did that happen?” I tease.

He smiles. “My mom would be happy to hear you think so.” He steps back and waits for me to lock up. “My dad’s a great example of how to treat the woman in your life. He’s always going out of his way to make Mom smile.”

“That’s nice,” I say, thinking of my own parents. Mom and Dad certainly make each other laugh and smile. Mom’s the only one I’ve seen be able to get Dad to totally relax.

Bradley leads me to his truck and helps me climb inside before closing the door and stashing his toolbox in the bed before going around to get in. “The weather’s really looking questionable. Did you happen to check the forecast?”

I lay my head back on the headrest and sigh as the warmth from the truck’s heater seeps through the coolness of my jeans. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, me neither.”

I shrug. “It’s probably just a cold front. I doubt we’ll get snow this early in November.”

He pulls out of the parking lot and onto the mainly deserted road. “You’re probably right. I hope you have enough blankets for both of us. Just in case.”

I snort. “I probably have more blankets than any sane person should own.” Dad always said I have a bit of a blanket obsession, and it got worse when I learned how to crochet my own afghans.

I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, Bradley’s lifting me out of his truck and carrying me up the steps. “I can walk you know,” I say, burying my face in his warm chest.

“I know,” he murmurs. “But I enjoy holding you.”

His soft words dance on my heart, cracking the thin layer of ice I’d kept in place to protect myself from him. “Oh.” I’d argue that I’m too heavy, but he’s not even winded as he takes the steps to the front door and sets me on my feet.

“Here we are.” He keeps his hand on my lower back, steadying me. It’s comforting. When Jayme used to do something like this, it felt so patronizing. Like he didn’t believe I was capable of standing on my own two feet. I tuck that thought away to examine later.

“Thank you.” I unlock the door and step inside. Seeing the little old house with fresh eyes. The living room, painted the greige color landlords seem to like these days, is small, but clean. The plush couch, a splurge, taking up most of the open space.I'm relieved when I don't see piles of dirty clothes or empty coffee cups sitting out anywhere.

“Relax,” Bradley says, obviously aware of my discomfort. “Your house is perfect. Just like you.”

I flick my wrist in the direction of the couch. “This is the living room, the kitchen is behind that wall, and the bathroom is the first door on the right.” I motion for him to follow me down the hall. “This is the guest room,” I say, opening the door and stepping back. It’s not much. A double bed in the center, with an antique table as a nightstand set between the bed and the wall. A small dresser with a lamp, and a picture of my parents on their cruise on top.

“It’s great. Thank you.” Bradley steps inside and sits on the bed. “Comfy, too.”

Unsure what to do now, I rub my hands up and down my arms. “I’m going to bed. I’ll be right next door.” I point to my own bedroom door. “If you need anything, help yourself.”

He nods. “I’ll be fine. Get some sleep.”

I yawn, letting my eyes close for a moment. “I’ll need to leave here by 4:45. Do you need me to wake you?”

He holds up his cell phone. “Nope, I’ve got it.”

“There should be an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Towels are in the closet in the bathroom, and cups are in the cabinet by the fridge.” I think I’ve covered it. Mostly, anyway.

“I’ll be fine. Promise. Go sleep.” He slips his shoes off and sets them neatly by the bed. For some reason, I’d expected him to kick them off and toss them across the room. His neatness makes me smile.

“Goodnight,” I say, before turning on my heel and walking a few steps to my own room. Once inside, I shut and lock the door. I kick off my jeans and pull my dirty shirt over my head, leaving them in a heap on the floor. I wonder what Bradley would think about that.

I glance at my dresser across the room and decide to forgo pajamas. The door’s locked, and Bradley promised no funny business, so I drop into bed and let sleep come.

The buzzing of my alarm cuts through the perfectly good dream I was having. I’d been in Bradley’s arms as he carried me through the street with a coffee cup on my head. I could examine what that particular imagery meant, but I’d rather stay focused on the feel of his strong arms around me. I snuggle into the warm sheets and sigh.

“Aurora?” Bradley’s voice carries through the closed door. “Are you awake?”

I grunt. “Yeah, I am. Do you need something?”

He chuckles. “Not a morning person?”

“Uh, no. Not really.” Sighing, I throw back the covers, and immediately regret it. Goosebumps cover my arms and legs. “It’s freezing in here!”

“Yeah, about that . . .” His tone doesn’t sound promising.

“What?” I ask, hoping that it’s something simple. I don’t have much extra for a costly heating repair or anything like that.

“It looks like we’re snowed in.”

The reality of his statement hits me, and I start to panic. “Here? Now?”

“Yeah, here and now. I turned on the news. They are canceling schools today, and advising people to stay off the roads until they’ve been cleared.”

Fabulous. How am I going to open the Coffee Loft? Wait, he said they’ve advised everyone to stay home. At least there won’t be a line of people waiting for me. “I need to call Ashlan.”

“I figured,” he calls through the door. “I’ll start a pot of coffee and see about making some breakfast.”

Grabbing my phone, I punch in her number and wait.

“Hello?” Ashlan answers, her voice thick with sleep. “Is everything okay?”

“Shoot! I’m sorry. I should have waited for a later time to call. We’re snowed in, and I can’t get into the Coffee Loft.” I hear her yawn and my guilt ramps up even more. “Don’t worry about it. Call me when you’re up and we can assess the situation then.”

“Okay,” she says. “Will do.”

I hang up the phone and stare at myself in the mirror above my antique dresser. Now what?

A few minutes later, wearing the warmest sweats I could find and wrapped in my turquoise and tan afghan, I walk into the kitchen to see Bradley’s behind poking out of the fridge.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bradley says, when he realizes I’m standing there gawking at him. “I found some eggs.” He grins and holds up the carton. “Unfortunately, it looks like you don’t have any bacon . . . or bread for that matter.”

I slip onto the bar stool at the counter. “Nope. I’ve been at the Coffee Loft so much I’m hardly here for meals.”

He nods. “I see that. Looks like you could use a day off. But today, hopefully they’ll have the roads cleared soon and we can get you back to work. Or at least get to the grocery store.”

He pulls out a skillet and sets it on the stove. “In the meantime, how would you like your eggs?”

The afghan slips off my shoulders, and I haul it back up. “How are you so cheerful so early?” I glance at the full coffee pot. “Especially before coffee?”

He steps to the cabinet and pulls down two mugs. “Cream and sugar? All I could find was powdered creamer.” He raises an eyebrow in question.

“Like I said, I’m hardly ever here. The Coffee Loft has all the coffee and creamer I need. The stuff here is just in case of an emergency, or company.” It really has been a long time since I had a full day at home. Hopefully with Ember nearly trained, and Ashlan taking over as my assistant manager, we can hire a few more part-timers and I can actually take some time for myself.

“No worries. I can drink just about anything.” He pours two cups and doctors them up. “How’s this?”

“Thank you,” I say, taking a deep inhale of the rich aroma. “It’s perfect.”

He takes a drink from his steaming mug and grimaces before hiding it with a smile. “Delish.”

I laugh, a deep belly laugh. “Liar.”

He joins me. “You’re right, but it beats no coffee.”

I slide off the stool. “How about I make the eggs since you made the coffee?” I reach into the fridge and pull out the small container of butter.

He takes it from my hand and points back to the bar stool. “Nope. I’ve got it. When’s the last time you let someone take care of you?”

“I, uh . . .” I honestly don’t know.

“That’s what I thought.” He shakes his head. “Let me make breakfast. We can argue over who makes lunch later. Deal?”

Mentally running over what I have left in my pantry, I cringe. “Deal.” Hopefully the roads are cleared by then, because unless he wants tuna and crackers. I’m not sure I’ve got anything to feed him.