“He ran in,” Jameson said. “That’s Ace, and the bookstore is his home, well, home base anyway. He kind of comes and goes as he pleases along this block. It’s his turf.”
Sue released a big sigh and stared at Ace through the window. “I was so sure I was going to be in trouble.” She leaned closer to the glass and tapped her finger toward the cat. “You almost made me break into a bookstore, little rascal.”
“Meh,” Ace answered, indifferent.
“Well, I’m happy I happened to be around,” Jameson said. “I saved you from a life of crime.”
What were the odds? Sue glanced at the red sedan, realizing it was his car. She hadn’t put that fact together until that moment. Red sedans weren’t exactly rare.
“Did they ever get the bus fixed?” he asked.
“I assume so.” Sue didn’t mean for her answer to sound annoyed, but even to her own ears, that’s the tone she detected. Forcing some control over her nerves, she said, “I took your recommendation and found that hotel. Thank you for pointing me in the right direction.”
“If it were me, I’d call the company and demand a refund.” Jameson smiled. “And ask for reimbursement for the hotel room. It’s the least they could do for stranding you in the middle of the night. And if they say no, they say no.”
“Yeah, thanks, I’ll think about it.” Sue stayed near the bookstore door.
Jameson appeared to notice and stepped back on the sidewalk to give her space.
“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” she asked, trying to think of anything to fill the growing silence.
He gestured to his left. “Inventory. I could ask you the same thing.”
“Exploring,” she answered. Sue took a step forward to look at the store he indicated. “You work at the coffee shop?”
Jameson nodded. “More or less. I own it.”
“Own?” Sue glanced at the shop again and inched closer to peek inside.
The window read, “The Coffee Shop in Freewild Cove.” Sue looked at the bookstore. That window read, “The Bookstore in Freewild Cove.”
“Um, clever shop titles,” she said.
“It’s been great for internet searches. They say what they are,” he said.
“So, do you own the bookstore, too?”
“Just the building. Melba owns the shop.”
“And Ace?”
“I don’t think anyone can own Ace. He’s a free spirit.” Jameson chuckled.
“What made you decide to join the barista arts?” she asked, trying to sound clever.
“As a young lad, it was always my wish to remain highly sugared and caffeinated,” Jameson joked. “This gave me the perfect excuse.”
Sue couldn’t help but laugh. “Living the dream, huh?”
“Exactly.” He gestured toward the door. “Want to come in?”
Sue started to shake her head in denial, but the ring sent a little jolt up her arm, and she found herself saying, “Yes, as long as I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all. You can watch me count tea boxes.” Jameson held open the coffee shop door for her. “It’s fascinating work.”
Sue glanced at Ace, who paused to look at her from where he licked his erect back leg.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can go at any time,” Jameson said. “I understand if you don’t want to be alone at night with a stranger in a strange town.”
Instead of answering, Sue pointed toward the bookstore and said, “Should we try to lock that door, so no one breaks in?”
“Melba doesn’t always remember to lock up.” He motioned upward. “I have a camera that covers both entrances. If something happens, we’ll see it.”
Sue looked up to see the small camera. “That’s how you knew I was out here?”
He nodded.
“Is there a lot of crime here? I noticed the theater had security cameras too,” she said.
“Not really. Usually, drunk tourist stupidity and most of that is closer to the beach. I got the camera more so I could make sure the morning shift shows up on time. Stu’s a great guy but often imbibes in drunk local stupidity. He’s plays gigs down at the beach, then comes in here and works the morning shift.” Jameson chuckled. “Ah, to be young again.”
“Did you just imply that we’re old?” Sue arched a brow at him as she walked into the coffee shop.
Was she flirting?
“Never.” He grinned. “You don’t look a day over eighteen.”
“Please tell me that isn’t true,” she said. “You couldn’t pay me to be a teenager again. I’ll accept a day over thirty, which is a lie, but a nicer lie.”
“Thirty it is,” he said. “I’m forty-seven, by the way. So I guess that makes me the old man.”
“Hardly.” She paused to look around the shop. A light came from a back room. He flipped on a light switch. “I’m forty if we’re disclosing.”
Saying her age made her think of her birthday. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I love the smell of this place,” he said, misreading what she was doing.
His comment turned her attention back to the shop. The smell of ground coffee permeated the air. It was a great smell. Wood plank walls enclosed the narrow space, or at least from what she saw of the walls from behind the paintings. Almost every inch was covered. Rows of homemade jelly had been stacked into a kiosk next to a matching display holding tea tins. Pyramids displays towered higher than most customers could reach and showcased coffee cups with the store logo and soy candles. Handcrafted jewelry had been set up by the register.
“It’s a great shop. You have a little of everything,” Sue said.
“Thanks. I can’t take credit for everything. Most of it is here on consignment. The paintings, jewelry, and candles all come from local artists. A lady makes the jams to supplement her retirement. On busy days, she sells baked goods. A ceramist outside of town makes the mugs for me. A kid at the High School screen-prints the t-shirts.” He smiled. “I love that it’s become a sort of artistic beacon for the town. We even had a hand-drawn greeting card vending machine out front for a time, but the guy who owned it moved and took it with him.”
Maybe it was the smell of coffee and candle wax that gave the impression of coziness, but the shop felt homey and safe.
“Sue?”
Sue blinked and turned to him, realizing she hadn’t been listening. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted some coffee. Nothing fancy, but I have a pot on,” he said.
“Coffee at midnight?” Sue thought for a moment and then smiled. “Why not? We’re adults, aren’t we? We can do whatever we want.”
Jameson grinned as he went around the counter and poured her a cup. He set it down.
“Oh, I don’t have—” Sue didn’t bring her wallet.
“It’s a gift.” He lifted his mug toward her. “To living dangerously and drinking coffee at midnight.”
“To living dangerously.” Sue placed the keys on the counter and then lifted her mug to take a sip. At the last minute, she stiffened, worried that it might taste like liquor. Thankfully, it didn’t. For a moment, she’d been able to forget who she was. “Delicious, thank you.”