FriendzonedThe World of True North
Rachel Blaufeld
Copyright © 2021 by Rachel Blaufeld
All rights reserved.
This book was inspired by the True North Series written by Sarina Bowen. It is an original work that is published by Heart Eyes Press LLC.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is dedicated to all the hard-working baristas out there, making sure we reach our daily caffeine intake, preparing skinny-one-pump-this and two-pump-that espresso drinks with smiles on their faces. Thank you.
Contents
1. Murphy
2. Murphy
3. Ben
4. Murphy
5. Ben
6. Murphy
7. Ben
8. Murphy
9. Murphy
10. Ben
11. Murphy
12. Ben
13. Ben
14. Murphy
15. Ben
16. Murphy
17. Murphy
18. Murphy
19. Ben
20. Murphy
21. Murphy
22. Ben
23. Ben
24. Murphy
25. Ben
26. Murphy
27. Ben
28. Murphy
29. Ben
30. Ben
31. Murphy
32. Murphy
33. Ben
34. EPILOGUE
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Acknowledgments
1
Murphy
“Excuse me, but I wanted an iced nonfat latte with one sweetener. This is . . . well, it’s not that. It’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever had. Either way, this isn’t what I ordered and I’m in a hurry. . . so, here.”
Taking a deep breath, I tried to suppress an eye roll as a twenty-something, fairly skinny, long-lashed woman waved the coffee I’d just prepared for her in my face. It was no surprise to see she was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and cutesy hiking boots, her curled brown hair splayed perfectly over the collar of her red-and-navy flannel shirt. It was the exact outfit I could imagine myself wearing if I were on the other side of the counter, living my best life in Vermont rather than slinging coffees for tips.
At that moment, I didn’t have time to wonder about what-ifs as she shouted at me over the noise of the steamer.
Blowing a frizzy strand of my own tangled red hair out of my eye, I said evenly, “That’s what I made. An iced latte with sweetener. Skinny, of course.”
Needing to fill the next order, I grabbed the next mug on the counter—a reusable dark blue Yeti, heavy as a brick, one of those fancy yet crunchy stainless-steel ones.
No surprise. We’re in Vermont, Murphy. A sticker marked americano, extra hot was stuck to its side, and I rolled my eyes for the second time in mere seconds. What’s wrong with one of our paper cups if you recycle it later?
“No, this has two sweeteners,” Little Miss Perfect Nature Lover said, narrowing her eyes. “I can tell the difference. By the way, no need to roll your eyes at me.”
Isn’t everyone in Vermont supposed to be nice?
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m not,” I said as my coworker Roderick hurried behind me, carrying a tray of fresh-baked scones for the pastry display case.
Resisting the urge to snatch a sugary calorie-laden pastry for myself, I tried to catch my breath. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I said, “What I mean is . . . the eye rolling wasn’t for you.” Unable to calm my nerves, I fluttered my hand in front of my face. It was an odd thing to do, and I had no clue why I did it. With Roderick finally gone, I said, “I was thinking about something I had to do later. Here, give me your drink.”
I tried to cover my tracks, hoping that one of my bosses, Zara Rossi, was too busy at the register to hear what was going on. I liked Zara, and I didn’t want to jeopardize this job or her good feelings toward me. She and her business partner, Audrey Shipley, had taken a chance on hiring me with no barista experience.
Little Miss Perfect raised a brow at me. “Well, maybe a little less energy on what you have to do later and more focusing on my drink. How about that?”
Who was this chick? And where did she think she was? Back in Manhattan, I’d expect this type of behavior—sadly, from my old friends or perhaps even myself—but this was the friendly Upper Valley of Vermont.
Reaching across the counter with my coffee-stained hand, I said, “I’ll remake it.”
Back when I’d visited the Busy Bean as a customer, I never acted this way. I’d been taught to always smile like a pretty socialite when meeting new people, to be polite and demure like a woman should be. Most importantly, I was expected to never, ever let my emotions get the best of me. Even when my world had been falling apart, I’d flashed my pearly whites and forged ahead, despite everyone’s best efforts to disparage me.
After a while, the effort to keep up the facade was too much—even for me.
The thing is, I’d been a little sassy in my former life, but I would have never handed the cup over like this girl did. I would have complained to the manager before buying myself a new drink, but the money didn’t used to mean much to me.
Taking the plastic cup from Little Miss Perfect Nature Lover, who obviously wasn’t concerned with the environment like the Yeti drinker downstream, I blew the same errant out-of-control strand of hair out of my face. I’d thought my two weeks of training with Kirk were hard, but manning the coffee bar by myself was a lot harder than I’d imagined. In the meantime, he was probably having a grand time in Costa Rica, while I was sweating it out in front of the mammoth espresso machine.
Without a lot of time to dwell on it, I was mentally going through the steps to make an iced nonfat latte when Zara called my name from across the counter.
“Murphy? Do you have the Americano? We have a doc who needs to get back to patients. I don’t mean to rush you, but hurry this one order.” Her dark hair in a glossy ponytail, tamed and in
