Chatting with my customers and seeing their smiling faces was also my favorite part of the day. But a girl could have more than one favorite, right?
I brushed the snow from my coat just before walking into the inviting warmth of the coffee shop interior. The scents of butter and sugar hit me as I strode into the kitchen.
Dillon’s broad shoulders hunched over the counter as he scooped balls of dough onto a baking sheet. “Morning, Dillon,” I called out. “It smells absolutely incredible in here. Is that cardamom?”
He looked up and gestured to a cooling rack. “Wait till you try these. New recipe. Here.”
He set down his scoop, picked up a scone from the rack, and held it out to me. I broke off a piece and took a bite. The texture was tender, with bursts of sweetness from dried apricot and the spicy bite of crystallized ginger. Cardamom accented the finish.
“This is dangerous. People are going to start camping outfront before we open.” I took another bite. “Make a double batch tomorrow.”
Dillon smiled and nodded. “You got it, boss.”
I grabbed my apron and started on my tasks for opening up the shop.
Silver Linings had been mine for about five years now, and I still got that little flutter in my chest every time I walked through the door. My pride and joy, second only to Ollie.
Not that the path here had been what I’d planned. Once upon a time, I’d been working on a literature degree, my head full of Joyce and Hemingway and ideas of maybe being a teacher.
Grace had been my college roommate, naturally, the star student of her accounting classes.
While I’d taken out loans to fund my education, Grace had received a full-ride scholarship from an anonymous alumnus of Silver Ridge High, based on her impressive test scores.
I was still paying those loans off, even without the degree to show for it. At least Danny had agreed to move to my hometown, probably because he wasn’t at all close to his own family.
I’d wound up a barista right here. Worked my way up until I took over the place myself while also caring for Ollie, no thanks to my ex.
It had been my idea to add shelves laden with well-loved paperbacks for sale, and to refurbish the old fireplace so we could have a blaze going in the winter months. I’d even come up with the Silver Linings name and hand-painted the wooden sign outside.
Now, I had a half-dozen employees who worked various shifts, plus seasonal help in the summers. About once a week, I helped open up the shop in the morning, but I spent the others with Ollie.
Speaking of my employees, wasn’t there supposed to be another here right now?
On cue, Rina charged in five minutes late and out of breath. Her dark, wavy hair stuck out with static as she whipped thebeanie off her head. “So sorry, Piper! Couldn’t find my ice scraper, and then I slipped on the driveway. My feet were over my head.”
I looked her over, but she seemed uninjured. “You alright?”
“Landed right on the snow-people my little brother made yesterday. Squashed them flat. But I swear, my entire life played out like a movie in my head. Scene by scene.”
Dillon placed a tray of muffins on the cooling rack. “Only you could have this much drama before seven a.m.”
I chuckled and handed Rina an apron. “Glad you’re safe and sound.”
Rina Collins had moved to Silver Ridge last year and always seemed to be skating through the door at the last second. She was far worse than me about keeping to a schedule. But her milk foam artistry was legendary. Seriously, she had her own Instagram account devoted to it. And she kept us laughing.
Dillon Kirby was a former baseball player. Not the most likely type to wind up my best baker. But he was one of those quiet men with hidden depths. He’d been through far too much tragedy and loss already in his life, having lost his father and sister in a fire when he was a kid.
Then he worked his way to becoming a college baseball star before he tore his rotator cuff so badly that surgery couldn’t fix it.
Lucky for me, he’d discovered a passion for high-altitude baking techniques.
Within a couple of hours, we were busy making lattes, boxing up pastries, and chatting with customers.
There seemed to be one topic of conversation on everyone’s mind today: a certain handsome, mysterious, tattooed bad boy who’d just reappeared in town.
It seemed most of Silver Ridge had heard about the drama at Grace’s house. Including the way Ashford had yelled at Grayden and told him to leave.
It was still hard to believe he’d sat at my kitchen table that night, eating my leftovers and throwing out casual mentions of his prison time. And afterward, when I’d walked into the livingroom and found him shirtless, all those muscles and tattoos on display…
