Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,21

savory scents. Chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, salt, nutmeg. It all smelled glorious.

Breathing it in, I looked around.

The coffee bar sat right smack in the middle of the shop. The front portion was all tables and chairs, seating for the cafe customers. Behind the bar was a lounge area of rich brown leather sofas. Blankets and pillows were draped over all of them and books lay scattered across every surface. On the far wall behind the sofas were floor-to-ceiling shelves of books, and to the right was a winding wrought-iron staircase that led up to a loft where there were yet more books to peruse and purchase.

“Wow,” I breathed.

There were two women working the coffee bar. One had silver hair that was shorter on the sides and longer on the top. The longer section was basically a curly mohawk and the ends were neon pink. She had big black plugs in her earlobes, floral tattoos on her neck, and a hoop through the middle part of her nose.

The other woman was younger, probably in her early twenties. She had brown hair that she wore in a ponytail and wasn’t wearing any makeup that I could see. She had rosy cheeks and worked fervently at the espresso machine, making drinks called out by her co-worker.

I got in line behind two other people and made my way to the front. When it was my turn, the woman with silver and pink hair flashed me a confident smile.

“Hey, newbie,” she called to me. “What can I get you?”

I licked my lips and looked down at the folder in my hands that contained my resumes. I pulled one out and put it down on the counter before speaking as clearly and confidently as possible. “Hi, I saw your hiring sign on the door and wanted to throw my name in the hat. My name is Briar and I’d really like to work here.”

She spun my resume to face her, plucked a pen from where it was clipped to the pocket on her black apron, and scanned my resume. “Waynesville, hey? Where’s that?”

“North Carolina.”

“That’s where you were born?”

I nodded.

“What are you doing out in New York?”

“I needed space to do my own thing and figure my life out. My town felt smaller and smaller with every passing day and I couldn’t be the woman I wanted to be there. But I think I can be her here.”

“And my shop will help you do that?”

“I think so.”

“And what will you bring to the table that will make it worthwhile for me?”

I swallowed. This woman wasn’t playing games. She watched me like a hawk, her gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth like she was watching for my expression to betray me.

“I’m a valuable asset,” I started. “I’m punctual and have excellent communication skills. I believe in positive work environments where colleagues respect each other and support each other. I want to be part of a team, not just a staff member. And I love books and coffee,” I added.

The woman tapped the end of the pen on the counter. “That’s it?”

She’s not buying it. Just be honest with her.

I sighed and looked her in the eyes. “Look, I really need someone to give me a chance. If you’re looking for honesty, here it is. I needed a fresh start because I knew if I stayed in Waynesville, I’d become exactly what every other woman in that town became. I’d marry a local guy and work an unsatisfying job until I started popping out his kids, and then my ambition will become my family. Which is all fine and good. But I don’t want to start that there. I want more. And in order for me to get more, I need someone like you to take a chance on me so I can afford to get out of the shitty motel I’m staying at and find a real place to live.”

She chuckled. “Your honesty is refreshing. A little much, to be honest, but refreshing.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be. You want a chance? You’ve got it.”

My eyes widened with surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She held out her hand to me. “My name is Margaret, but you can call me Mare. Can you start on Saturday?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes absolutely!”

“Good. Be here at six o’clock sharp. The shop opens at six thirty on weekdays. Eight o’clock on weekends. Can you do four to five shifts a week?”

“The more the better.”

“We’ll go over everything together on your first morning. Now