Page 66 of A Cup of Autumn
“Can’t break your streak of trying new pumpkin spice drinks.”
“That looks tasty.”
She handed him one. “It’s a Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew.”
He took a sip. “Delicious.”
“One of my favorite pumpkin spice drinks.” And then she remembered. “Have a seat in the living room, and I’ll get the cookies.”
Raine hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the plate, and returned to the living room. Of course, she forgot napkins. But how messy could cookies be?
She placed the cookies on the table and sat, still holding her drink.
He raised his glass. “If you weren’t already a barista, I’d say you missed your calling.”
“Thanks. I used to make my parents’ drinks on the weekends. I’d experiment with Dad’s coffee and Mom’s tea bags. I cut them open to make her special blends. I’m sure some mixtures were truly awful, but she drank every cup.” Raine took a sip. The cream could be a tad thicker but not bad. “Got my first barista job, and there was no looking back.”
“You found your passion early.”
“I did.” She set her cup on the table. “You did, too. A freshman in college is young.”
He nodded. “The thing about teaching is we don’t see the end results beyond the quarter or semester. Some students stay in touch if they think they’ll need a recommendation letter someday but many you never see or hear from again.”
“I get to see my finished project each time. And I can tell if someone likes it or not. Unless it’s a to-go order. But in a small town, people come back if they enjoy something.”
“That would be nice.”
“Your book might be more immediate gratification, seeing people buy it and leave reviews.”
“Unless the reviews are awful.”
“I can’t imagine you writing a bad book.”
He leaned toward her. “Why is that?”
“You put everything into what you do. At least you have with the Boo Bash, so I assume you’re writing would be the same.”
“I hope you’re correct.”
Something told Raine she was. She took another bite of her cookie. “How is the book coming along?”
“Good, except…” He stared at his drink.
“What?”
“I have an outdoor scene. I’m struggling to come up with the right description. Which means I keep writing and rewriting. It’s only a small part but an important one.”
“Where have you been writing?”
“At Margot’s and the coffee shop.”
She thought for a moment. Keaton was intelligent. He probably knew this, but maybe he’d forgotten. “I journaled after I lost my parents as part of grief counseling. When the words wouldn’t come, I would go to the park or lake. Being outdoors inspired me. You might need a change of scenery to find inspiration.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“There are plenty of spots. The park is lovely this time of year with the leaves changing.” She tried to think of other places when the perfect location hit her. “Have you been to Silver Falls?”
“No.” He reached for a cookie. “I meant to when I was here in the summer, but the hike would have been too much for Rex, and I didn’t want to leave him alone when he missed Callie so much.”
