winked at him. “A little touch of heaven on her way home, si?”
“My coffee heaven?” Rafe let a broad grin spread across his lips. “Si,
hermana
. I’ll agree with that.”
Olivia flounced past him. “Not your coffee, you! Ooo, you make me crazy when you do that.”
He held up his hands, still laughing. “I’m not trying to annoy you,
mija—
”
She planted her hands on her slim hips. “Oh, don’t give me that. You love annoying me. And all I’m trying to do is help you.”
Rafe fought hard against the laughter. He really did. But there was no holding it back.
Olivia tossed back her long black hair, pressed her lips together, and glared at him.
“¿Qué?”
He stood, going to slip his arms around her. “Sorry, mija. I don’t mean to laugh at you. You just look so much like
Mamá
when you scold.”
Olivia’s frown melted into a warm smile. “Look like her, si. But not sound like her. Mamá scolded in
Español
.”
“You do too. Sort of.”
Olivia went back to the glass display case she’d been stocking. “Spanglish, Rafa. You know Mamá hated Spanglish.”
“She didn’t hate it. She just chose not to participate in it.” Rafe set his coffee cup on the counter. “I miss her.” Hard to believe their parents had been gone for five years. Killed in a car crash when he was twenty-eight and Olivia had just turned thirty-four.
A soft hand came to rest on his shoulder. “They would be so proud of you, Rafa. Of all you’ve done here. That you didn’t let your injury destroy you.” She waved her hand at the shop. “That you used all you’ve learned, all you are, to make this.”
Rafe couldn’t say he was sure about a lot of things. But this place? He’d known the day he opened Cuppa Joe’s that his coffeehouse would be a success.
Oddly enough, he owed that to the military—prime territory for coffee addiction. Especially in his Force Recon team. Now, Rafe had always liked coffee. Good, strong coffee, the way his
abuela
made it. He smiled. Nobody made coffee like his grandmother, but these guys … just the smell of the stuff put a gleam in their eyes and a blissful grin on their faces. But it was watching them consume the liquid that opened his eyes.
True coffee lovers didn’t just drink the stuff. They lived for the whole crazy experience.
It was the one thing that Thales, Monroe, and Green shared. Those three were hooked, big time. A fact proven the day Thales came back from a street market with a package stuffed with bags of coffee. It wasn’t long before the three men disappeared. When they showed up again, it was with one of those fancy coffee makers—the kind that makes coffee and espresso.
Thales and Monroe handled the machine with a reverence usually reserved for their weapons. Sabada watched over their shoulders. “How much did that thing cost you guys?”
Monroe’s eyes went wide. “Who cares, man. It’s coffee!”
Rafe frowned. The kid might have problems keeping his temper, but he was a pro at not letting his money get away from him. “You can get coffee free at the mess.”
Green opened the bag of beans like it was some sacred, long-awaited treasure. He held the bag beneath his nose and inhaled, drawing the fragrance in like it was purest oxygen. Monroe held out the grinder as Green poured beans in, then pressed down the button. “That’s not coffee, Asadi.” Monroe held up the grinder. “
This
is coffee.”
“Not just coffee, Farm Boy.” Green took the grinder and dumped the grounds into the holder and tamped it down. “We’re talkin’
great
coffee.”
As black liquid flowed into a mug, Thales poured milk into a small pitcher, stuck it over a protruding tube, and turned a knob. The machine responded with spitting and hissing.
Rafe sat back, torn between laughter and amazement. There were these three big Marines, men he’d seen take fire with total calm, acting like little kids waiting for the go-ahead to tear into the gifts beneath a Christmas
“My coffee heaven?” Rafe let a broad grin spread across his lips. “Si,
hermana
. I’ll agree with that.”
Olivia flounced past him. “Not your coffee, you! Ooo, you make me crazy when you do that.”
He held up his hands, still laughing. “I’m not trying to annoy you,
mija—
”
She planted her hands on her slim hips. “Oh, don’t give me that. You love annoying me. And all I’m trying to do is help you.”
Rafe fought hard against the laughter. He really did. But there was no holding it back.
Olivia tossed back her long black hair, pressed her lips together, and glared at him.
“¿Qué?”
He stood, going to slip his arms around her. “Sorry, mija. I don’t mean to laugh at you. You just look so much like
Mamá
when you scold.”
Olivia’s frown melted into a warm smile. “Look like her, si. But not sound like her. Mamá scolded in
Español
.”
“You do too. Sort of.”
Olivia went back to the glass display case she’d been stocking. “Spanglish, Rafa. You know Mamá hated Spanglish.”
“She didn’t hate it. She just chose not to participate in it.” Rafe set his coffee cup on the counter. “I miss her.” Hard to believe their parents had been gone for five years. Killed in a car crash when he was twenty-eight and Olivia had just turned thirty-four.
A soft hand came to rest on his shoulder. “They would be so proud of you, Rafa. Of all you’ve done here. That you didn’t let your injury destroy you.” She waved her hand at the shop. “That you used all you’ve learned, all you are, to make this.”
Rafe couldn’t say he was sure about a lot of things. But this place? He’d known the day he opened Cuppa Joe’s that his coffeehouse would be a success.
Oddly enough, he owed that to the military—prime territory for coffee addiction. Especially in his Force Recon team. Now, Rafe had always liked coffee. Good, strong coffee, the way his
abuela
made it. He smiled. Nobody made coffee like his grandmother, but these guys … just the smell of the stuff put a gleam in their eyes and a blissful grin on their faces. But it was watching them consume the liquid that opened his eyes.
True coffee lovers didn’t just drink the stuff. They lived for the whole crazy experience.
It was the one thing that Thales, Monroe, and Green shared. Those three were hooked, big time. A fact proven the day Thales came back from a street market with a package stuffed with bags of coffee. It wasn’t long before the three men disappeared. When they showed up again, it was with one of those fancy coffee makers—the kind that makes coffee and espresso.
Thales and Monroe handled the machine with a reverence usually reserved for their weapons. Sabada watched over their shoulders. “How much did that thing cost you guys?”
Monroe’s eyes went wide. “Who cares, man. It’s coffee!”
Rafe frowned. The kid might have problems keeping his temper, but he was a pro at not letting his money get away from him. “You can get coffee free at the mess.”
Green opened the bag of beans like it was some sacred, long-awaited treasure. He held the bag beneath his nose and inhaled, drawing the fragrance in like it was purest oxygen. Monroe held out the grinder as Green poured beans in, then pressed down the button. “That’s not coffee, Asadi.” Monroe held up the grinder. “
This
is coffee.”
“Not just coffee, Farm Boy.” Green took the grinder and dumped the grounds into the holder and tamped it down. “We’re talkin’
great
coffee.”
As black liquid flowed into a mug, Thales poured milk into a small pitcher, stuck it over a protruding tube, and turned a knob. The machine responded with spitting and hissing.
Rafe sat back, torn between laughter and amazement. There were these three big Marines, men he’d seen take fire with total calm, acting like little kids waiting for the go-ahead to tear into the gifts beneath a Christmas
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