Not a good thing anyway.
But I can’t shake the sense that this isn’t nothing. Whatever is budding between Jake and me, it’s definitely something, even if I can’t quite name it.
Or don’t want to, as the case may be.
“Everything okay?” Jake asks, holding the door open for me. “We can stay here if it makes you more comfortable.”
I give him a weak smile, struggling with the words, and marveling at how patient this man is. How thoughtful and kind.
“Just hungry,” I manage, hoping he doesn’t see my inner struggle. There’s no reason for him to know he has me feeling off-kilter. He’s only being himself, after all.
I think.
Maybe I need a bigger sample size to be sure.
He shuts me into the car like a perfect gentleman, and as he rounds the hood, smiling, I can’t help wondering what it would be like to be that carefree. To wear your heart on your sleeve for the whole world to see and know, without fear of having it shattered into smithereens.
There is definitely something for me here with Jake. Some lesson and invitation in this situation. In this meeting. I’m too addled to process it properly right now, but I keep coming back to thoughts around not making mountains out of proverbial molehills.
Jake smiles at me before putting the car into gear, and my heart melts even more, making me wonder all over again about the portent of this moment.
Maybe it really is nothing.
Then again, maybe it’s everything.
On Beans & Blooms
Jake
I’m back in the roastery, working on some orders, but I can’t stop thinking about earlier with Holly. Lunch was definitely a good idea, and not just because we’d both needed to eat.
Although she’d obviously had doubts about joining me, I’m glad she did. I took the long way to and from things, showing her around town from the comfort of my Bronco, while wishing she were on the back of my motorcycle, snuggled up against me.
I know there’s plenty of time for that later though, when we know each other better and she’s learned she can trust me.
Lunch was that mix of uneventful and thoroughly thought-provoking I’m coming to associate with Holly, as we chatted about nothing and everything over sandwiches and fruit. I got the food to go and took her to the springs, where we sat at a picnic table near a stand of pines and aspens. I still thinkthat was one of the best damn decisions I’ve made all day, initial greetings aside.
With the way Holly came alive in the open air and early spring sunshine, surrounded by trees and sky and water, I felt like a king. Like I’d finally done something right with her. I still do.
I hated having to tell her goodbye when we got back to work, though. And since returning to my coffeehouse, I’ve fought the urge to go next door and check on her more times than I’d like to count.
We just met this morning, and already she’s become my whole world. I wish I could help her with whatever other setup she has at her shop, but these beans won’t roast themselves, and I have some online orders to fill.
Light roasts.
I prefer drinking a darker roast, but my light roasts are buoyant and bright and in demand. They’re particularly crisp and clean, showcasing the incredible fruit, which is why people enjoy them.
And damn, I love coffee, too.
Even the light roasts.
As the beans reach first crack and I monitor their rate of rise, I wonder what Holly’s coffee preferences are. I may have given her a little grief about stereotyping me earlier, but in a way, I did the same for her. I made her a sweet, milky latte this morning, reasoning that most women tend to like drinking those. I mean, statistically, they do. I certainly sell more lattes and mochas to women than to men.
And she certainly seemed to enjoy the coffee. The way her eyes lit up at the first taste is something I’ll never forget. Maybe I’ll bring her another one tomorrow. Or maybe something else.
Tipping the beans into the cooling unit, I marvel at how much more efficient my fluid bed roasting setup is than the drums I initially learned to roast with. There was definitely a learning curve, but between the two styles, air is by far my favorite now. More control of the flavor profiles that way, and less chaff jostling around with the beans. It’s more environmentally friendly too. Or, it will be when I can figure out how to get all of my electricity completely cleanly.
Thoughts of Holly’s greenhouse with its solar panels flit in, and I’m reminded of how vibrant and alive she’d been by the springs earlier.
