Pumpkin Spice Read online

  Pumpkin Spice

  C.L. Ryder

  Contents

  SUMMARY

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Thank you for reading!

  Preview: Listen to my Heart

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  FREE BONUS CHAPTER

  Copyright © 2017 by C.L. Ryder/Cody Ryder

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This story has been adapted with permission from a book previously published as A Cup of Joe by Cody Ryder

  SUMMARY

  “You’ve never had a chance to explore yourself.”

  Bethany LeFlorette is the owner of a struggling boutique coffee shop, the business passed down to her by her late parents. With the family legacy on her shoulders, she’s had no time for romance, especially now that a big corporate cafe has opened up down the block. Her only respite from the stress of her failing business is by blowing off steam at her local boxing class.

  “In this game, there’s only room for one to win.”

  Jane Pumpkin, CEO of the hottest new chain of coffee shops, is back in her hometown following the opening of her store’s newest location. The success of her business has been her life’s dedication—but recently she’s started to find herself wanting more.

  “I don’t do anything half-assed. I get the feeling you’re the same way.”

  When Bethany meets Jane at her boxing class, the two hit it off fast—especially when Jane finds herself no match for Bethany’s fast fists. After a hard defeat, she just can’t stop thinking about the fiery younger woman. The attraction between such passionate souls is undeniable—but what will happen when they discover they’re one another’s biggest rival?

  Prologue

  Bethany LeFlorette still hadn’t gotten used to the sterile, clinical odor of the hospital ward, despite the many days spent by her mother Callie’s bedside during her month fighting a losing battle to cancer. The claustrophobic scent of medicine and disinfectant was what immediately got to her. Such a stark contrast to the warm, comforting aromas of the family coffee shop. And beneath it all there was a presence that Bethany really couldn’t stand.

  For someone with a palate as sensitive as hers, it should’ve been easy to identify any smell or flavor, especially one as strong as the one she detected in the hospital air, but Bethany just couldn’t pin it down. She racked her mind trying to figure out what it was, an exercise which helped to stop her mind from going to dark places during those long hours while her mother was asleep. She scratched a list in her notebook, as she usually did when trying to breakdown an especially complex mix of aromas and flavors.

  She started to wonder if she might be going a little crazy. Was whatever she thought was there actually just her imagination? It took her several days to realize that wasn’t so far from the truth. She wasn’t sensing some regular physical presence, like the tartness of fresh lemonade or the brightness in the body of a cup of coffee, and she understood that she’d have to look deep if she wanted to figure out what this was.

  Bethany was frowning at her notebook and tapping her pen against her chin when her mother’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.

  “Whatcha doing there?”

  She looked up, surprised. “Mom!” She set the notebook down and scooted up to her bedside. Mom typically didn’t wake up so early. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Fantastic, as usual.” Her frail smile scrunched into a tight frown. “You weren’t up all night, were you, Bethany?”

  Bethany tried to hide a sheepish smile by getting up and pulling open the curtains. Bright San Diego morning sunlight beamed onto her face and into the hospital room. For a moment, Bethany thought it felt cozy and almost like home. Then she was struck with a sudden crushing realization: home would never be the same again. She wouldn’t just be picking up where they left off, with her mother getting back to work managing the café and her working her magic behind the bar counter. Bethany would be in charge.

  Mom wasn’t going to be coming home.

  Bethany had known it subconsciously for a while now, but hadn’t been able to fully come to terms with it until that very moment. She stared out the window at the sprawl of hospital parking lot down below, and watched as a couple carried their newborn baby out to their car. Up in the sky, an airplane trailed a thin white wisp across the clear blue vastness. Her heart was pounding.

  Life goes on, she thought numbly. Mom is dying, and the rest of the world goes on its way.

  “Honey.”

  Bethany blinked and turned around, putting on her brave face. “Yeah, Mom? Do you need anything? Are you thirsty?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Come here,” she said, patting the side of the bed. Bethany pulled the chair up to her bedside and sat down. Mom took her hand and squeezed it softly. “You need to stop worrying about everything so much, Bethany.”

  “Worrying? I’m not...”

  Mom tapped her wrist with her palm, too weak to the do the playful slap she always used to do when reprimanding her. “Don’t bullshit me, Bethany. You know I always know when you’re bullshitting me.” She gave her a wry smile and squeezed her hand again, her voice turning serious. “I want you to know that I’ve lived a good life. I have no regrets.”

  “Mom…”

  “Having you as my daughter is my proudest achievement. And having you run the café with me… I want you to know how thankful I am for that. I know how much you sacrificed to help run the business. Which is why when this is all over… Bethany, I want you to shut down LeFlorette’s.”

  Bethany’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t expected to hear that. Her mother and father had opened the shop years before she was born. It’d been their passion. Some of her fondest childhood memories were of watching with fascination as Dad deftly worked the levers and valves of the espresso machine with practiced precision, while Mom grilled and prepared their renowned sandwiches for salivating regulars. Her parent’s dream became her dream, and when Dad passed, Bethany stepped up to the plate to help Mom keep the café running. The café was home. It was her life.

  Shut down the café? Bethany wondered if Mom was delirious from the cocktail of medications she was taking. There were days when she definitely hadn’t been all there, but when she looked her in the eyes now, she saw that Mom was completely lucid. In fact, she hadn’t seen her with such a spark in a long time.

  “Mom, you can’t be serious. I’m not going to shut down the café.”

  “Honey, you’ve never had a chance to explore yourself. The café is all you’ve ever known. It’s all you’ve ever had a chance to know. You deserve to see what else this world has to offer.”

  “I don’t understand. Mom, you know how I feel about the work we do. I love it, it’s my passion. It’s as much a part of me as you are or Dad is. And when you’re—” The words caught in her throat, and when she found her voice again it didn’t qu
ite match the voice of a young woman of her strength and fire.

  Bethany was twenty-one-years-old. Everything about her, from her gym toned body to her sharp and perfectly put together image, showed her discipline didn’t just lie in the art of making coffee. People sometimes called her intense, and she prided herself on her focus and strength, but at the moment she felt like a frightened child.

  She swallowed, and was finally able to get the words out. “When you’re gone, it’ll be all I have of the both of you.” She had to look down to hide the tears that were pooling up in her eyes.

  Mom gently stroked the back of her arm to reassure her, in the same way she’d done ever since Bethany was a little girl. It might be the last time I ever feel this, she realized painfully, and she couldn’t stop the tears that were now dotting the fabric of her jeans.

  “I love you so much, Bethany,” she told her.

  Bethany nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I love you so much too, Mom.”

  “I want you to make me a promise, okay?”

  “I can’t promise you that I’ll shut the café down.”

  “Now wait,” she said. “Let me finish. The world can be a lonely place, honey. If you’re going to manage the café alone, things will be hard. You know that. I want you to promise me that you’ll find someone to have by your side. That you’ll balance your life with your work, and that you’ll keep yourself open to starting a family and meeting someone. Promise me that you won’t go through your life alone and that if it ever seems like you’re giving up your life for the shop, that you will close it.”

  Bethany sat silently absorbing what her mother had just asked of her. It seemed to have come completely out of nowhere. Mom asking that of her was like asking a singer to quit singing, or an athlete to stop playing their sport.

  “Where is this coming from, mom?”

  “It’s been on my mind,” she breathed, staring off into space. “You’re like your dad. You get so involved in your work that you forget to take care of yourself, and sometimes you shut others out. I don’t want you to go through your whole life so stuck in work that you let everything else this world has to offer pass you by. And I worry, because I could see it happening to you, honey.”

  Bethany knew she was right. She was content when she worked the café. She could run it day and night if she didn’t have to sleep or eat.

  “I’m not alone though, Mom. I’ve got Jackson and all the other workers at the café.”

  “We’ve been lucky to have someone like Jackson working for us, and you’re lucky to have him as a friend…but you know that’s not what I’m talking about. You haven’t dated anyone since that girl in high school, and that only lasted, what, a month?”

  “Two…”

  “Two months.”

  A tightness gripped her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs. “Alright, Mom,” she said finally. She leaned in and kissed her softly on her forehead, and as she did, another tear danced down her cheek. “I promise.”

  She wondered if she would be able to keep her word when it came down to it, but for the sake of Mom’s comfort, she knew she had to say it. She hoped she believed her.

  Mom relaxed back into her pillow and closed her eyes, her expression content. “Okay. It’s settled then.”

  Bethany kissed her forehead again, then walked over to window. Whatever the future has in store, she thought, I can handle it. Even if it’s on my own. I’m not a weak person. I’m perfectly happy with what I’m doing right now, and I would be if it were the only thing I ever did in my life.

  She repeated the thought several times like a mantra, trying to quell the nagging feeling of doubt that waded around deep in her mind.

  “So… how about some breakfast, Mom? Or a cup of water?”

  Silence greeted her, and when she turned around, she saw Mom was sleeping again. A faint smile crossed Bethany’s lips, and she suddenly felt a level of peace come over her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She looked down at the green notebook on the desk by the window, and an epiphany suddenly struck her. She knew what that elusive, hidden presence was.

  She picked up the notebook and scribbled a single line at the bottom of the page.

  “Our fragile mortality.”

  Maybe I am going crazy, she thought. But it’s really there. I can taste it here, it’s so strong. Life can be taken in an instant, and I don’t plan on wasting a single day.

  A week later, Mom was gone.

  One

  Three Years Later

  Bethany worked with the deft speed and muscle memory that came with thousands of hours of practice and experience. She threw a dash of roasted coffee beans into the grinder, which she had personally calibrated to her exact preference for coarseness, then dispensed the grind into the portafilter and locked it into place on the machine. After hitting the button to start the brewing process, she quickly moved to the stove and flipped the spicy chicken melt sandwich that was grilling there.

  “How are those tomatoes coming?” she called over to Jackson, who was leaning over a cutting board and slicing up a pile of fresh tomatoes for the sandwiches. Jackson had been Bethany’s classmate in high school when he’d been hired for a part time position at the café, and his energy and friendly attitude had endeared him to Mom, who was always flexible with Jackson’s hours when he’d gotten into university. He became Bethany’s closest friend and her biggest support when Mom passed away.

  “Just about finished,” he called back. “How many orders of spicys do we have now?”

  “Seven more orders after this. Got three iced teas, two capps, and a vanilla latte. It really got busy today!”

  “Hey, you’re all doing a fantastic job back there,” said Frank, a squat older man who was both one of the café’s regular loyal customers and a boxing instructor at the local gym that Bethany attended. “For having to cut down on the staff, seems like you’re doing well.”

  “If only it could be this busy every day, Frank,” Bethany said. “It feels like it’s been a while since we’ve had a lunch rush like this.”

  Marcos, the café’s remaining full-time employee asides from Jackson, was manning the register. He’d been hired when Bethany’s father was still alive and she was just a little girl, and he had experience doing nearly every job there was in the place.

  “Thank you, sir, self-serve water is right over there, we’ll have your coffee and sandwich out to you in just a few minutes,” Marcos said. He turned and slapped the order sheet onto the board and shouted, “Another spicy chicken melt and one Americano.”

  “Thank you!” Jackson and Bethany returned in unison. Bethany glided back over to the cappuccino machine and frothed up a cup of milk with the steamer. In a motion so precise and smooth it seemed like the cups were floating through the air, she dashed the milk into the coffee, purged the milk frother with a quick blast of steam, and then clapped a cover onto the cup.

  “Your cappuccino, Frank,” she said, setting the hot paper cup onto the counter. “And…” she went back to the stove and flipped the sandwich onto a paper plate. “Your sandwich. Have a great day.”

  “You too, Bethany,” said Frank, wrapping the counter with his knuckles. “Will I be seeing you at boxing tomorrow? You’ve been out of the gym the last couple weeks.”

  “I’m gonna try to make it,” Bethany said with a guilty smile. “Things have just been a little crazy, with everything changing so fast here…”

  “Hey, I understand. Taking care of your business comes first. But you can’t put a price on the stress relief that comes from beatin’ the bag, you know? And I can see it. You could use it.”

  Bethany gave him a nod and a little salute. “I really could. I’ll do my best to make it in.”

  Frank pointed at her with a look that said, “you’d better,” before heading to his usual table. Bethany laughed and turned back to the coffee machine after taking a quick glance at the order board. It felt fantastic to be going at full steam again, o
r what Jackson liked to call “hyper-tasking”. Over the past six months, LeFlorette’s had been experiencing a steady decline in patronage, and Bethany had noticed that even some of the café’s regulars had stopped showing up for their usual coffee. The reason for the slump was no mystery. Four months ago, a hip, brand new coffee “atelier” named The Standard had opened up a location in the neighborhood just a few blocks down.

  The Standard was a fairly new company, formed only six years prior in San Francisco. Through a perfect storm of exposure through clever marketing and online viral hype, the small shop exploded in popularity, and there was lots of eager anticipation about when and where they’d be opening their second branch. When they announced it would be in San Diego, even local news stations reported on it. Bethany had heard about The Standard when they were first finding success through several interviews with the company’s founder and CEO published in some of the coffee and entrepreneur websites that she frequented. She’d read them with a mild interest in what people were calling “the newest contender in the ‘third wave of coffee’”, a movement focused on producing high quality, artisanal options of the drink.