the trail of cars exiting the drop-off zone and headed toward job number one: Kisspresso Café.
All people who lived in Kissing Creek would come to understand an important thing about their hometown. A place with the word “kissing” in its name can’t not capitalize on romance. Because aside from sex, there’s no greater marketing tool than love.
That’s why almost three-quarters of the stores in town either had a romance-themed pun for a name or featured some kind of kiss mark and/or heart in their business logo. There was the fancy donut shop with the kiss-themed flavors: chocolate smooch, raspberry snog, and frenching vanilla. They’d even had a limited edition one called ‘too much tongue toffee’. Then there was Italian restaurant Mille Baci (a thousand kisses) and the auto repair shop with the slogan: kiss-proof your car!
For someone who didn’t believe in the whole happily-ever-after thing, it was a daily reminder of what Audrey saw as false advertising. But she’d never considered moving away. Kissing Creek was her home, and she had a duty to make sure each and every one of her siblings had the best possible trajectory in life. Which ultimately meant donning the cutesy pink polo shirt with the Kisspresso Café's logo, complete with embroidered red lip print, and tying a red waist apron over her jeans several days a week.
Truth was, she liked this job. Audrey had little time or budget for personal passions, but one she did indulge in was coffee, so her job as a barista ticked both the passion box and the money box. Plus, the Kisspresso Café was right at the edge of Harrison Beech College, which meant, for a few hours each day, Audrey could pretend she was a full-time college student without any worries in her life.
“One vanilla latte, one cappuccino, and two pink passion white chocolate mochas.” Lana called the orders in her usual singsong voice from the front counter as she slid the empty takeout cups along the bench toward Audrey. “And a puppyccino for Ralf.”
“Ralf is here?” Audrey peered around the pastel-pink espresso machine to look out the front window. Ralf was a Saint Bernard who loved the staff at the café. His owner, Andy, was a retired professor and a regular customer.
“Yep, and don’t even think about running that drink out to him. It’s my turn today.” Lana folded her arms over her chest, and Audrey pouted. “I need to live vicariously, okay? The only pet I’m allowed in my dorm room is of the chia variety.”
Audrey snorted as she picked up the single-shot portafilter and set it under the grinder with one hand while reaching for the milk jug with the other. “They still make those?”
“Sure. I have one shaped like Groot.” She grinned.
Despite there being only five years’ age difference between them, it felt more like a decade. Or two. At twenty-six, Audrey wasn’t like most people her age—she worked two regular jobs, took odd jobs where she could, cared for her siblings, made sure the household bills got paid, and took night classes at the college to stop her mind from going to goop. Lana, on the other hand, worked a scant fifteen hours a week, often came into work hungover, and thought that trying to budget for a pair of Lululemon leggings was life’s greatest challenge.
“Also, Jamie told me to mention that we have to crack down on people fraudulently using the college staff discount,” Lana said. “If they look too young to be a professor, then we have to ask to see their faculty card.” She hovered by the espresso machine, waiting for Audrey to finish making the puppyccino so she could take it outside. “Apparently we’ve been scammed on multiple occasions.”
“Really?” Audrey wrinkled her nose.
She totally understood that many college students didn’t have much spare cash. But if that was the case, why order coffee at Kisspresso? They could go to Dunkin’ Donuts and get a coffee for two bucks instead. Or use the facilities in the student lounge. And Audrey might have been raised poor as dirt, but stealing was stealing…even if it was only a dime. Scamming a local business run by someone who gave plenty to the community was not cool.
“Yeah,” Lana said, bobbing her head. “Jamie told us yesterday and asked us to fill in everyone who wasn’t rostered.”
“Duly noted.”
Audrey waited for the espresso shot to finish and tapped the portafilter against the edge of the knock box, releasing the used grounds. Then she poured milk into