to force a grin. She wasn’t at work yet. She paused. “Do you know Jonathan Bear?”
Cassie gave her a questioning look. “Yes, I’m friends with his sister, Rebecca. She owns the store across the street.”
“Right,” Hayley said, frowning. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her. But I’ve seen her around town.”
Hayley was a few years younger than Cassie, and probably a bit younger than Rebecca, as well, which meant they had never been in classes together at school, and had never shared groups of friends. Not that Hayley had much in the way of friends. People tended to fear the pastor’s daughter would put a damper on things.
No one had tested the theory.
“So yes, I know Jonathan in passing. He’s... Well, he’s not very friendly.” Cassie laughed. “Why?”
“He just hired me.”
Cassie’s expression contorted into one of horror and Hayley saw her start to backpedal. “He’s probably fine. It’s just that he’s very protective of Rebecca because he raised her, you know, and all that. And she had her accident, and had to have a lot of medical procedures done... So my perception of him is based entirely on that. I’m sure he’s a great boss.”
“No,” Hayley said, “you were right the first time. He’s a grumpy cuss. Do you have any idea what kind of coffee he drinks?”
Cassie frowned, a small notch appearing between her brows. “He doesn’t come in that often. But when he does I think he gets a dark roast, large, black, no sugar, with a double shot of espresso.”
“How do you remember that?”
“It’s my job. And there are a lot of people I know by drink and not by name.”
“Well, I will take one of those for him. And hope that it’s still hot by the time I get up the mountain.”
“Okay. And a coffee for you with room for cream?”
“Yes,” Hayley said. “I don’t consider my morning caffeination ritual a punishment like some people seem to.”
“Hey,” Cassie said, “some people just like their coffee unadulterated. But I am not one of them. I feel you.”
Hayley paid for her order and made her way to the back of the store, looking around at the warm, quaint surroundings. Locals had filed in and were filling up the tables, reading their papers, opening laptops and dropping off bags and coats to secure the coveted positions in the tiny coffee shop.
Then a line began to form, and Hayley was grateful she had come as early as she had.
A moment later, her order was ready. Popping the lid off her cup at the cream and sugar station, she gave herself a generous helping of both. She walked back out the way she had come in, going to her car, which was parked behind the building in her reserved space.
She got inside, wishing she’d warmed up the vehicle before placing her order. It wasn’t too cold this morning, but she could see her breath in the damp air. She positioned both cups of coffee in the cup holders of her old Civic, and then headed to the main road, which was void of traffic—and would remain that way for the entire day.
She liked the pace of Copper Ridge, she really did. Liked the fact that she knew so many people, that people waved and smiled when she walked by. Liked that there were no traffic lights, and that you rarely had to wait for more than one car at a four-way stop.
She loved the mountains, and she loved the ocean.
But she knew there were things beyond this place, too. And she wanted to see them.
Needed to see them.
She thought about all those places as she drove along the winding road to Jonathan Bear’s house. She had the vague thought that if she went to London or Paris, if she looked at the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben, structures so old and lasting—structures that had been there for centuries—maybe she would learn something about herself.
Maybe she would find what she couldn’t identify here. Maybe she would find the cure for the elusive ache in her chest when she saw Ace with Sierra and their kids.
Would find the freedom to be herself—whoever that might be. To flirt and date, and maybe drink a beer. To escape the confines that so rigidly held her.
Even driving out of town this morning, instead of to the church, was strange. Usually, she felt as though she were moving through the grooves of a well-worn track. There were certain places she went in town—her parents’ home, the church, the grocery store, The Grind, her brother’s brewery and restaurant, but never his bar—and she rarely deviated from that routine.
She supposed this drive would become routine soon enough.
She pulled up to the front of the house, experiencing a sharp sense of déjà vu as she walked up to the front porch to knock again. Except this time her stomach twisted with an even greater sense of trepidation. Not because Jonathan Bear was an unknown, but because she knew a little bit about him now. And what she knew terrified her.
The door jerked open before she could pound against it. “Just come in next time,” he said.
“Oh.”
“During business hours. I was expecting you.”
“Expecting me to be late?” she asked, holding out his cup of coffee.
He arched a dark brow. “Maybe.” He tilted his head to the side. “What’s that?”
“Probably coffee.” She didn’t know why she was being anything other than straightforward and sweet. He’d made it very clear that he had exacting standards. Likely, he wanted his assistant to fulfill his every whim before it even occurred to him, and to do so with a smile. Likely, he didn’t want his assistant to sass him, even lightly.
Except, something niggled at her, telling her he wouldn’t respect her at all if she acted like a doormat. She was good at reading people. It was a happy side effect of being quiet. Of having few friends, of being an observer. Of spending years behind the church desk, not sure who might walk through the door seeking help. That experience had taught Hayley not only kindness, but also discernment.
And that was why she chose to follow her instincts with Jonathan.
“It’s probably coffee?” he asked, taking the cup from her, anyway.
“Yes,” she returned. “Probably.”
He turned away from her, heading toward the stairs, but she noticed that he took the lid off the cup and examined the contents. She smiled as she followed him up the stairs to the office.
The doors were already open, the computer that faced the windows fired up. There were papers everywhere. And pens sat across nearly every surface.
“Why so many pens?” she asked.
“If I have to stop and look for one I waste an awful lot of time cussing.”
“Fair enough.”
“I have to go outside and take care of the horses, but I want you to go through that stack of invoices and enter all the information into the spreadsheet on the computer. Can you do that?”
“Spreadsheets are my specialty. You have horses?”
He nodded. “This is kind of a ranch.”
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize.”
“No reason you should.” Then he turned, grabbing a black cowboy hat off a hook and putting it firmly on his head. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. And I’m going to want more coffee. The machine is downstairs in the kitchen. Should be pretty easy. Probably.”
Then he brushed his fingertips against the brim of his hat, nodding slightly before walking out, leaving her alone.
When he left, something in her chest loosened, eased.