Coffee Shop Girl (Coffee Shop #1) - Katie Cross Page 0,66

outdoor theme they come here for. That antiques store in Jackson City? We could refurbish from that with less than two hundred dollars. I’d bet my position as romance queen on it.”

Maverick pointed at her as if to say, Check her out?

“She’ll be unbearable after this,” I muttered as Lizbeth studied the glass windows peering out on a hideous parking lot.

“We can do all that,” Maverick said.

“With what money?” I cried.

He ignored me.

“Will you help, Lizbeth?” he asked.

She tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You can’t afford me, Mav.”

Maverick laughed again.

Lizbeth rolled her eyes. “Um, yes, I will help you! This could be my big break into the interior-design space. Plus, then I can show all my Pinterest followers. They have ads there, you know. I could haul in some cash.” She gazed at me from under thick, pale eyelashes. “Besides, we owe you, don’t we?”

Before I could counter, she started prattling again, bouncing around the room. I let her live in it while I staved off the utter panic scalding my throat. It wasn’t just the money—although that was part of it. It was the change. The shift. The loss of control as this all moved forward.

The total erasure of Dad.

We were getting rid of everything that made this place Dad’s. The fish. The colors. The not-so-organized feel of clutter and coffee. It certainly wasn’t impressive, but it wasn’t a hole, either. Besides, I made great coffee, and that’s all anyone cared about.

Right?

Maverick watched me carefully. I forced the thoughts back. I’d sort through them later, on the motorcycle.

No, I wouldn’t do that, either, would I?

Panic squeezed my chest like a vise. I fumbled for my purse. Was it time to touch up my lipstick? Take a break?

Run away?

“Well,” I said, my voice a little too bright, “let me think about this for a day or forty.”

“You okay?” Lizbeth asked, studying me.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“That means—”

“I’m fine!” I snapped.

“Ookaaay,” Lizbeth said, “while you have a mild panic attack, I’ll get to work. But we’re going to do two lists.” She reached for my laptop. “One of things we can do right now, and one that will take some time and money to build out. I might be able to draw up a budget for draperies and—”

“Are you all right with this?” Maverick asked, moving to stand next to me. He propped his hands on the counter behind him, though he didn’t take his eyes off Lizbeth as she honed in on the computer. Clearly, she didn’t expect a response.

Lizbeth was a verbal processor. Instead of the quiet, she needed the chaos. Right then, I could have made do with a long stretch of highway and the rumble of the bike beneath me.

“Fine,” I said.

“You’re pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“And your knuckles are white.”

A glance downward confirmed I was clutching the counter with a white-knuckled grip. Every muscle in my body felt like it was ready to spring. “It’s . . . a lot.”

“A lot of what?”

“Of . . . unexpectedness.”

That wasn’t a word. Or maybe it was. I didn’t care, but I did try again.

“It’s a lot of letting go.”

He nodded slowly, seeming to roll that idea around his mind. “Or a lot of embracing the future. However you want to look at it.”

My brow furrowed. I hated it when he acted like my mentor or pulled out some nugget of wisdom I didn’t really want. I didn’t want to be functional. I wanted to feel. Especially when I just wanted to rip the glasses off him and throw myself back into his chest. The temptation to send Lizbeth skittering upstairs with her ideas was nearly overwhelming. I held back because I didn’t quite know where I stood with Maverick.

Strictly speaking, we were friends who would part as soon as he felt the need. We just happened to share a strong sense of attraction and kisses that would melt the panties off any woman.

“It’s okay to feel, you know,” I muttered a bit too sharply. Defensiveness, Dad always said, means something is very wrong, Bee.

Maverick grunted.

“I just . . . I feel sad. And not ready. To let go of all of this is to . . . kind of . . . you know . . . erase my dad from the coffee shop. And if he’s not here, then he’s nowhere, because this was literally all he had left.”

“Not all.” He kicked the side of my foot gently.

I frowned up at him. “You mean me?”

He nodded.

To that, I had

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