. The hallway eventually opened up into the living room and then the kitchen.
I sighed dreamily when I saw how extravagant the kitchen was. It had beautiful hardwood floors, the cabinets were black with silver handles, and the countertops were this beautiful matte grey color, similar to concrete, but prettier. Maybe it was concrete. A few empty spaces lingered, and I knew it was for the dishwasher, stove, and refrigerator. The sink was installed though and right next to it was the coffee pot. It was always dark when I snuck in before. With all the tools lying around, I had always assumed it was just another unfinished part of the house and didn’t bother looking up from the ground. I decided then, that was a habit I needed to break.
The sink itself was stainless steel with a faucet that curved at the end. A medium-sized dog could fit in that sink, and then I thought about bathing a cute puppy in it with Logan. I was thinking of the future, assuming I’d be here with Logan, building new memories. It was a dream, and I had no right to place myself here in Logan’s home. If there was one thing I learned in this life, it was that no one knew what the future held.
The coffee pot was still in its packaging, so I picked at the tape at the end of the box and unraveled it, yanking it across. Once the flaps were undone, I dipped my hands inside and grabbed onto the Styrofoam as I pulled the pot out. The foam fell off one side, hitting against the counter, and white dust went everywhere. I tugged the side free and studied the pot.
Alright, it didn’t look too difficult to figure out. If luck is for me right now, muscle memory would take over if I ever made coffee before.
But the longer I studied the red pot and all the buttons; the more my muscle memory laid dormant. “Crap,” I muttered, grabbing the pot by the handle and pulling it out. The black lid on it popped free, and I inspected it. Obviously, the coffee filled this, but how did I get there?
This was aggravating. I spun the machine around, looking for another hole of some sort, and I clicked down on the top, and it slowly lifted.
I called this progress.
“How’s the coffee coming?” Logan shouted from the bedroom.
“Great,” I answered back, hoping he didn’t come into the kitchen for another ten—okay—fifteen minutes. A container that said Folger’s sat in the corner along with some white thingies that said filter on it.
I could do this. Instructions had to be somewhere, right? The ones that belonged to the coffee pot explained how to set it up, so I did that and plugged it in. The clock flashed blue, and I filled the pot up with water and poured it in the back of the machine. Next, I lined the inside with the filter and scooped coffee into it.
How many scoops?
Did I eyeball it?
Two scoops for twelve cups? That didn’t seem like enough, so I added two more and pressed start.
Steam rose out of the back, and I had to admit, it smelled good. I watched in awe as it started to fill, but it seemed a little light. I wasn’t worried about it. It smelled good, so I had to have done it right.
“Baby? Are you dressed? The guys texted me and said they were going to be here in about ten minutes.”
Uh, no, I was not dressed. Not even close.
Chapter Eleven
Logan
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the coffee didn’t look right. She looked so cute and proud holding that damn coffee cup in her hands as she handed it to me, a big smile on her beautiful face, her eyes lighting up like the damn sky from a lightning storm, and I knew by the way she looked at me, she had no idea how to make coffee.
And I wanted to say it made it taste better, I really did, but no matter the amount of love and effort that went into it, it still tasted fucking awful. I was going to drink it anyway, and my men were going to drink it, and they weren’t going to say one fucking word about it or so help me, I’d fire them for making my girl feel bad about something she tried to do.
It was just coffee, but I was proud of her for trying and figuring it out.
“Hey, Mr. Green!” Jacob shouted as he shut his driver’s side door. Mark. Matt, Doug, and Sam were right behind him, looking worse for wear. All of them looked hungover.
“Where’s the Joe? I need the biggest fucking cup there is,” Mark grumbled and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.
“Late night?” I teased. “Can’t slack today. The house needs to be done by Easter.”
“Not a late night for a good reason,” he said, slapping my shoulder. “And that shouldn’t be a problem. We can get it done. There isn’t much left to do.”
“Everyone grab a cup of coffee and don’t take a sip of it until you’re out here with me. We have a visitor today. And before you fuck-wits say anything to her, I want to talk to you first,” I warned, staring down each and every one of them.
Jacob gulp.
Doug grinned, nodding slowly like he knew what I was hinting at.
Matt was curious, typical. I could tell he wanted to ask questions. He was the only one out of the group that was nosey.