Walking over, I pick up the phone from where I placed it well before the sun came up and glance at the screen, confirming the text is, in fact, from Ella.

  Ella: Greetings, my bestest friend. All is well here. Sold out of the chocolate chunk muffins right away this morning, but we still have a lot of the other flavors. People keep asking for them, so I had to take the featured item off the wall menu. Wanted to let you know, I think it’s rain and things are slower than normal. Don’t rush in. No need to save us from any fires just yet. Go run some of your errands or something after you drop bean off at school.

  Me: Another reason to hate rain—it’s bad for business.

  Ella: I wouldn’t say it’s bad for business, per se. The lull gives me time to catch up on the tasks we don’t always have time for during big rushes. We’re prepping, stocking, and cleaning when we aren’t helping customers.

  Ella: Do you have any idea how many slaughtered trees we had in this shop just from all the old newspapers left behind? I was momentarily overwhelmed with guilt watching one of the guys pile that stack in the recycling canister.

  Me: I’m certain the recycling center is very happy that we have so many murdered trees. I don’t think the old newspapers left behind are supposed to be the biggest impact on your morning and overwhelm you with guilt. Instead, my precious friend should count her lucky stars and relax while you can for once. Maybe ask one of the baristas to make you a super complicated drink to test their skills and keep them on their toes. Then relax with an old paper while you can and enjoy your beverage. ;) See you in about 30.

  Ella: See! Another reason you’re such a rock star. Now I need to think of a tricky order so I can try to throw them off. You know… For training purposes, not to be mean. I guess it’s kind of mean, but justifiable since it’s with good intentions to help them grow and learn and all. Right?!

  Me: Insane. You. Are.

  I toss my phone in my handbag and glance over my shoulder at Riley.

  “Okay, little bean. Let’s shake a tail feather, okay? It’s a short day at school, so let’s get going so I can get back to you. Maybe we can go see Frozen 2 again and avoid the rain?”

  Riley screams, shoving the last bite in, and just like that, my girl is ready to take on the day with a burst of energy I wish she would share.

  Oh, to be young and blissful again.

  “The Bones” by Maren Morris

  Olde Mug by Bean & Co. never fails to give me a massive rush of pride every time I’m walking up Newbury Street and see it in the distance. Each step brings me closer to the little dream I always imagined but never had the courage to break away from the family expectations to build.

  Sadly, it took losing my sister for me to take that step. I needed a purpose other than the one drilled into us. The high-society bullshit was never my thing. I played the part and did what was expected of me, but when our parents died, it was just motions of what I had been conditioned to keep up with.

  My life had no color.

  I’ll never forget the day I bought the building, which had once housed the Cole Haan store. It took an exorbitant amount of money to buy the building from the retail giant to build my coffee shop. The previous owners had been fighting the Historical Society for the changes they wanted to the outside, and it just was my lucky day that I gave them the out they had been looking for. They just moved their store farther down Newbury and knocked out three retail units to give them what they wanted in the end. What their new place isn’t, though, is the gem of Olde Mug.

  It took me longer to talk the sweet old man who owned the unit behind the space to let me buy that as well, giving me not just the shop but also the ability to renovate and add a kitchen and living quarters that took up the whole back end and top level of both.

  Ella has been living above the shop for two years now as part of the perks of being manager and working such long hours. It also helps so that I can be with Riley.

  I wait for a car to pass so I can cross the street, taking me one block closer to Olde Mug. I can see the dove-gray awnings over the outer windows from my vantage point, the glint of the sun shining off the glass intricately designed as a belt, so to speak, wrapping around the whole building between the levels. One more “belt” of copper and then more windows. It was the first thing that made me know it was where I needed Olde Mug—that natural light was a must. But it was the roof that made me crave. I would have paid millions more just to have this building. There’s no other way to describe my pride and joy other than looking like a castle. Two high peaked Victorian-style turrets on either side of the roof, pieced together by some of the finest craftsmanship I’ve ever seen in a gable. Every time I see it, I feel transferred back to the little girl who grew up wishing her prince would steal her away from my life and into one of pure happiness. Which is exactly what I get every time I walk in the door.

  Now nothing about my world is colorless.

  Between the shop and Riley, the only thing that would make it better would be having my sister back. Unless you ask Ella, and then she’d tell you what I was missing was a man.

  With a laugh, I wrap my hand around the iron pull on the door and step into heaven. The first thing that assaults me is the scent. Nothing on this earth is better than the smell of ground and roasted coffee beans. The sweet scent of different foods intermingling make it almost too euphoric.

  I step around the eclectic mixture of couches and chairs I hunted down to fill the vast floor area, each carefully placed to break the room into different seating areas. A variety of tables are sprinkled between. A large area serves as a workspace for those who prefer to relax while working as well as ones that take up a decent chunk of the room on each side, just to the side of the front windows. My eyes flit up, and I smile at the three chandeliers above me. So classy, my coffee heaven castle.

  “You’re late!” someone bellows from farther back in the room, where the bar of coffee machines and food display counters are.

  I shake my head and glance over at our large clock, complete with coffee mugs as number placeholders, and roll my eyes.

  “I’m ten minutes early, just like I always am,” I call back to Ella.

  “Morning, Olivia. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” someone says from my side.

  When I see who spoke, I can’t help the smile that grows.

  “Well, good morning, Mr. W! It’s a wet one, that’s for sure. How are you feeling today? I missed you here last week, but I heard someone wasn’t being a good boy about taking his medication.”

  My favorite customer just laughs, his weathered voice heavy with age and the pneumonia his caregiver, Grace, had told me he had last week.

  “That nosy little girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You know she isn’t even a doctor!”

  I pat him on the shoulder. “She’s qualified enough to know when you need your medication, you stubborn man.”

  “In my day, you just took a few shots of Jameson to get rid of a little cough.”

  “Well, in my day, you still do the same, only you make me hide it here so Grace doesn’t know you’re being a bad boy.”

  He grumbles under his breath, but smiles nonetheless.

  “You doing okay? How about the wee one?”

  “We’re doing just fine. She’s just as energetic and opinionated as ever. Reminds me of someone I know,” I respond with a wink.

  His grin gets mischievous, and he grumbles out a laugh, his face showing every one of his eighty-three years.

  “She reminds me of my beautiful Rachel. So full of life, she was. That little girl is going to take the world by storm one day. Mark my words.”

  “I don’t doubt that for one second. You’ll let me know if you need anything, okay? No rowdy for you today, Mr. W.”

  He gives me another one of his famous winks and goes back to his morning paper. I don’t miss the bottle of Jameson tucked at his hip, the one I keep behind the counter just for him. What can I say? I’m a sucker for his beautiful soul and stories of a life well lived. There isn’t much I wouldn’t keep hidden for him if it keeps him here for hours on end. And Grace, bless her heart, can use the break from her full-time charge.

  “The rush came just as soon as I hung up with you.” Ella sighs, leaning against the counter and tossing the towel over her shoulder that she had been using to wipe off the counter next to the vintage register.

  “Was it bad?”

  “No. Just a little more crazy than normal. It must have been a party night for every damn college kid around us. I’m convinced those Ivy League brats who come in here just to talk about which boy they’re going to sleep with that night pay for their passing grades. No way they can be passing if they party as hard as they talk. One of them looked like she had been ridden by the entire MIT senior class, and if her words were true, she was damn well close to it.”

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” I respond, not even touching the rest. She isn’t wrong for the most part. A few groups of girls are regulars after a long night of partying, and it drives me nuts when they loudly boast about their “conquests” when I have Riley here.

  “I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “You want to talk about it?” I ask, focusing on my friend.

  “Nothing to talk about, just the usual.” She lifts off the counter and straightens her back. “Anyway, look alive. Incoming.”

  I don’t even need to look toward the windows to know what she’s talking about. My body acts instinctively, too. My back straightens, I brush my hands down the front of my camel-colored blouse and slip off the cardigan I pulled on to keep the chill away on my walk to work. Ella laughs under her breath but takes it from me.

  I grab a white apron from the hook, drop it over my head, and move to the coffee machine, the large monstrosity that looks like a work of art. Even as I hear the door chime, my movements don’t stall as I continue the task I set myself to complete. My heart picks up with each heavy-booted step. Even through the low hum of people enjoying their time around the room, I can hear them.

  I feel his energy the moment he’s near. It hits me like a battering ram. If he’s ever felt it, he’s never let on. If he ever noticed my reaction, he’s never let on to that either, though.

  Today, it feels different.

  I peek out of the corner of my eye, using the veiled curtain of my hair, and see he isn’t alone. The order may change occasionally, but it isn’t uncommon for him to have someone else with him. Three men seem to cycle out periodically, but today, it’s Evan. Well, damn. Ella must not have seen him at first. Ella has affectionately nicknamed him the Latin lover. My never-shy friend, she can’t hold her tongue around him either. It helps calm my nerves to watch her around him and to keep from focusing so much on the giant at his side, that’s for sure.

  I finish the coffee, putting the lid in place, and turn to the counter where they’re both standing side by side with Ella. My eyes connect to his dark-green orbs instantly. I’m used to his silence, and I stopped expecting anything, but today, it looks like a storm brews behind them. My hand shakes as I hold out his drink, the one he hasn’t had to order in over six months. There’s another reason I’m never late, and it has everything to do with the blond Viking in front of me.

  He gives his usual nod but doesn’t speak. More normal behavior, but still those eyes rage their silent storm. His fingertips brush mine, and I feel a zap of electricity snake down my spine.

  “You want anything, hunk?” Ella asks Evan.

  “Don’t I always, princesa.”

  “You want anything other than a drink and a muffin?” She leans over the counter, and I feel my lip twitch.

  “Ella,” I warn.

  “What?” she responds firmly but still playful.

  “What did I tell you about offering yourself as part of the menu?” I question, moving my gaze to Evan as he has his own issues holding back his laughter.

  “That it’s illegal if I accept money for sexual services.”

  “Or that maybe it isn’t appropriate?”

  “Oh, yes. That one.” I look at her, knowing what’s coming because it’s the same every time—almost daily. “I quit.” She smiles, and her eyes are back on Evan. “Wanna go upstairs, hunk?”

  His wide, toothy smile comes out, and bright white teeth bite into his thick bottom lip. I hear Ella make a sound and I elbow her before she can continue.

  “Would you like anything, Evan?” I ask.

  “Just a black coffee, darlin’, and one of those blueberry muffins.”

  “You got it.” I look at Ella. “You wouldn’t quit because you love me too much. Now, go get Evan’s order ready.”

  “Anything else for you guys?”

  “We’re good. Do you mind if we use one of the rooms today?”

  It takes me a second to realize he means one of the two private rooms we have here. Well, private isn’t the best term since the double doors and much of the room’s wall—carved perfectly into the brick surrounding the room—are made of glass. You can see in to the main floor, but they’re perfect for larger groups that need a quiet space for conversation. They’re typically booked during the day by study groups, but luckily for them, they’re both empty today.

  “Of course. I’ll fill up a carafe for you. Anything else?”

  “The other guys will be here soon. They’ll let you know. Thank you, darlin’.”

  “No problem, Evan.”

  I look back up at the silent Viking—Drew—I’ve heard him called. His hair is up today, which is shocking since I’m so used to seeing his shoulder-length dark-blond hair and not the shaved parts on each side of his scalp. You would never know he had such beautiful straw-colored hair if he didn’t keep the top long. His normal wardrobe of all black is in place, his thick muscles carved under his skin making him look not just giant but carved from stone as well. The intricate black tattoos decorate every bit of skin that isn’t covered from the neck down.

  My eyes land on his full pink lips between the blond beard and mustache hairs, willing him to speak. When he doesn’t, I look over at Evan.

  “Let us know if you need anything. With the iPad next to the door, you can send us a text with anything you want to order. We’ll bring it in, or you can have someone come out to get it. Just make sure to settle your bill before you leave. You can pay for these drinks later if you have friends coming. That way, they can just add theirs to the room. Easy as pie.”

  “Thank you, darlin’. We’ll do that if we need anything. Send the boys in when they come?”

  “Just the two of them, or is anyone else joining you?”

  “Just Hunt and Saint.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll send them in. Don’t forget the button next to the painting, center wall, if you want the shades to go down on the windows.”

  “No offense, but they’re kind of pointless with the glass door, darlin’.” His eyes dance, and I have to admit, I get Ella’s obsession with him.

  “I’ll find a suitable solution to install just for you guys next time,” I sarcastically drawl.

  With a deep grunted laugh, he turns and walks to the left of the room, where our two private rooms are tucked next to the bathroom space. I look back over at Drew, who is still looking at me with his silent storm.

  “You need anything else?” I ask, proud of myself for sounding calmer than he makes me feel.

  He’s silent, as usual, and I’m about to turn and clean up the machines before I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

  “Soon.”

  That’s it.

  Just one word.

  The first he’s ever spoken to me in the three years he’s come in here. His voice sounds like he never uses it at all.

  Rusty, deep, and full of masculine seduction.

  I’m so stunned, I didn’t even realize he had left until I feel Ella’s fingertip at my chin, closing my gaping mouth.

  “What was that?” she exclaims on a shocked whisper.

  “I have no idea.”

  What was that, indeed?

  “Please Notice” by Christian Leave

  “What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Ella asks.

  I stop restocking the clean mugs and look toward the room for the hundredth time since the other two men arrived.

  “I don’t know. Sports, maybe?”

  “Have you ever seen men need to go into a private room to talk about sports?”

  “Have you ever understood why men do a lot of the things that men do?”

  “Fair played, my friend. Fair played.”

  “Why don’t you go top off Mr. W? He should be leaving soon, and you know he doesn’t like Grace to know he’s been sipping Jameson all day. Don’t forget to get the bottle so he doesn’t try to take it home again.”

  Ella laughs and walks toward Mr. W. His face lights up the second she sidles up and places her butt on the arm of his chair, rubbing her hand over his bald head.

  I look down at the mugs, each one unique and funky, and feel another rush of pride for Olde Mug. Even all these years later, I still feel like it was the first week I opened the doors, and I pray that feeling never leaves.

  I’ve always had an affliction for beautiful old mugs. The older and unique, the better. It started from my grandmother, who had an extensive collection, but she never minded that I wanted to play with her expensive mugs like they were nothing but a cheap doll. She was, without a doubt, the kindest adult that I ever had in my life growing up. I knew when I opened Olde Mug that I wanted that part of her—and the happiness those memories gives me—into this place. The rest of the hippie meets Victorian era design was all me and Riley. Of course, she was too young at two to really understand what she was doing, but I purchased any couch or chair she gravitated to during our estate sale hunting. It didn’t take long for the place to come together, and the result is nothing short of flawless—the perfect mix of old historical Boston, a reformed socialite, and a sassy little girl.

  Bean & Co.

  Riley and me.

  Forever.