Monday (Timeless Teaser)
E. L. Todd
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Monday
E. L. Todd Copyright E. L. Todd 2016
Smashwords Edition
CHAPTER ONE
Francesca
On my first day working at The Grind, a coffee shop in Myrtle Beach, the constant sound of the running blender gave me a headache. Just when it would stop spinning for a damn second, it started up again. Taking orders from customers was a hassle because I couldn’t hear a word they said. And just when I raised my voice so they could understand me, the blender shut off and I looked like a screaming lunatic.
But now that blender reminded me of home.
I’d been working at The Grind for nearly three years. It was a great college gig. It was flexible with my class schedule, and when I wanted to blow off work for a party, it was easy to change shifts with another worker.
It wasn’t my dream job, but it was okay for now.
The shop was dead that afternoon, so I opened my jar of homemade batter and beat it with a spoon until it was fluffy again. Then I poured it into a pan and shoved it into the oven.
“What are you baking now?” Marie, my roommate and best friend, grabbed her apron and tied it around her waist. She reeked of smoke, so I knew she lit one up in the back alley. I tried getting her to quit a few times, but that just made her addiction worse.
“Apple cherry muffins.”
“Hmm…sounds good.”
I was notorious for my love of baking. We had an oven at our house, but it wasn’t as nice as the one at The Grind. I took advantage of it whenever I could. “They’re not super sweet so at least they won’t give you diabetes.”
Marie popped a few breath mints into her mouth to cover up the stench of smoke. “I’m not worried about diabetes.”
“Just lung cancer?” It was a mean jab but I didn’t care.
Marie rolled her eyes. “I smoke twice a day…sometimes only once.”
“If it’s so seldom, why do it at all?” I put my hand on my hip and narrowed my eyes on her face. I wasn’t a judgmental person, but I wanted my best friend to be around as long as possible.
“Shut up and keep baking.” She walked around me and headed to the front of the café.
I rolled my eyes even though no one was around to witness it. Then I set the timer on the oven.
***
“Damn, these are good.” Marie picked at the muffin right at the counter. A few customers were sitting at tables in the lobby, but no one was in line. Fortunately, our manager was pretty lenient with all the crazy things we did. One time, a customer complained that Marie was on her phone, but our manager didn’t seem to care.
“Thanks.”
“Are they made with real apples and cherries?” She spoke with her mouth full.
“Yep. Natural is the only way to go.” I tried not to eat everything I made otherwise I really would get diabetes.
“We could probably sell these for two bucks a pop.” She finished the muffin then sucked the crumbs off her fingers.
“Two bucks?” I asked. “Maybe ninety nine cents.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Our chocolate croissant is $3.50.”
“Still sounds like a rip off to me.” I noticed the crumbs around her mouth but I didn’t say anything because I knew she would get there eventually. Right now, she was focused on her fingers.
The bell over the door rang as someone walked inside. That bell was a lifesaver when we were doing things we shouldn’t be—like right now. I set the tray of muffins on the counter then smoothed out my apron without checking who the customer was.
“Oh my god.” Marie lowered her voice so only I could hear her. “That’s him.”
“That’s who?”
“That super hot guy that comes in here all the time. He works on homework or something. But he looks too old to be in college…” She immediately straightened her hair then checked her breath.
I peeked over the counter and saw the guy she was talking about. She wasn’t exaggerating about his looks. He really was hot. He had dark brown hair that was a little messy, but he obviously did it on purpose. It was full and thick, and it was clear he ran his fingers through it when he was deep in thought. He wore slacks and a collared shirt with a dark blue tie down his chest. He had to be over six feet, and he filled out his clothes well. Even in a sleeved shirt, the muscles of his arms were obvious. His chest was wide and his stomach was tight. He stood at the end of the line and stared up at the menu as he tried to decide what he wanted.
He was definitely a looker.
“Ask him out,” I whispered to her.
“Are you crazy?” she snapped. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s lame,” she said quickly. “Girls don’t ask out guys.”
“Says who?” I demanded. “If he says no, whatever. Move on. But if he says yes…take him out for a drink.”