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It's six o'clock in the morning. On the dot.
I never used to be a morning person but through my early shifts and little sleep, I've been forced into being a morning person. I wouldn't even say it's a lifestyle, it's more like a personal hell. But I have to endure it for the sake of our family business.
Chessman's has been in our family for almost forty years.
It has moved all over England until we settled here for the last five years.
My mother, Hazel, grew up learning how to make fresh coffee and signature drinks. My grandparents were the true owners but they gave it to my mum when the time was right and they were considering retiring.
They've passed now but we keep this legacy to remember them by. It was their livelihood, their passion and I love knowing how proud they would have been of us for what we've achieved in that time.
The shop for Chessman's in which my grandparents ran was up in the North of England. My mother moved us away from her home because of my asshole father, she wanted nothing to do with him anymore so she packed all of our stuff and moved to the south.
Not once looking back.
So we found this nice little space in a quiet town. We could have opted for London but the buildings cost far too much and my mother was adamant we'd buy and pay it off as a second mortgage.
The sad news is, we haven't paid off the mortgage on the cafe or our house. But we still try to get by.
With the cost of living rising, people aren't coming to cafe's as much as people expect. Some days it's like a ghost down and when we see how much money we have in the till after a day's work, it's like we shouldn't have even opened that day at all.
We're not earning as much as we were four years ago, it's like there has been an apocalypse and half the population wiped out. I hate seeing how much it upsets my mother but we have to admit, we're struggling.
I grab the mop and bucket from the backroom and start cleaning the floors. I was too tired to do it last night and now I'm regretting it. My mother stands at the counter, sifting through pieces of paper and then cursing to herself.
"Are you going to the bank again today?" I ask her.
My mum raises a hand to her face and presses it into the skin, a deep, morbid sigh falling from her lips. "For the sixth time in the last two months, yes. No doubt it's going to be the same damn answer. But I have to keep trying, there must be something they can do."
I slant my lips to the side at her words. The bank pretty much refuses to give us a loan to help out with keeping our mortgage payments, otherwise we can say goodbye to this cafe and a second goodbye to our house. That's my biggest fear, having nowhere to sleep.
The unsettling feeling of my stomach twisting together makes me feel heavy and even more exhausted than I was when I first woke up. I try to be optimistic but what other choice is there? We're not going to magically pull money out of our asses.
But I have to be the person that remains positive in this because if my mum cracks, I'll crack and I won't be able to cope with seeing her upset.
"Well let's just see what they say," I keep my voice chirpy. "It might be a different banker today and I know you've got more evidence to prove what we can achieve with the loan and how efficiently we can pay it back."
Her blue eyes float to mine beneath those tortoise print glasses. "But that's not good enough for them, Luca. We've been dropping in profits for months, I don't even know why I'm going to be honest. I know what they're going to say."
I feel my lips twist downwards into a frown because I don't want this to be a reality, neither of us do. To let go of something that is so dearly important to us–God I don't even want to think about it.
With my eyes moving to the floor, I mop slowly and carefully. "Right," my mother says, shuffling the papers into her bag. "I've got to get to work and then I'm seeing the bank at midday."
"Alright," I turn over my shoulder. "Let me know how it goes."
"Will do, have a good day."
"You too."
And then I'm left alone.
The fact my mother has to work a separate job outside of the cafe is crazy to me. I work most days, Demi has some shifts occasionally and Linda who is moody as hell but at least she keeps this place running.
My mother has mentioned cutting back their shifts to save some money, meaning I'll be working all day every day for seven days a week. I know I shouldn't but we don't have any other choice.
When it reaches six thirty, I unlock the front door and turn over the sign to say that we are open. The mornings in the week are usually the busiest, most people grabbing a quick coffee before work.
I enjoy mornings because they mostly go quickly and then it reaches lunch where some people pop in and sit down with their laptops or their tablets and sit in a comfortable silence to work.
As I take a damp cloth and run it across the counter top, clearing away coffee powder and spilled milk. It hasn't been a bad start to the day, only six more hours to go and I can fall into my bed and pass the fuck out.
My eyes dart to the clock and I narrow them at the time. Something feels off.
The bell to the cafe rings and I turn my attention to the sound. Ah yes. That's why.
If I told you the hottest man on earth visits our cafe everyday, you wouldn't believe me but the hottest man on earth visits our cafe everyday. Without fail–apart from weekends which is understandable.
This man could stop traffic by being so damn attractive.
Not only is he tall but he has dark tousled hair and piercing brown eyes. He has light stubble on his jawline that is so sharp and defined that a ruler would be offended. God, he's so damn beautiful.
Some days I get to smell his musky, deep cologne. No doubt it's the most expensive because my friends Demi and River have pushed into my brain that he's rich because he wears Tom Ford suits–one in every damn colour.
The fact he's rich doesn't change anything, he's still super fucking sexy–and probably married with kids and a mansion on top of the hill and six dogs and a swimming pool.
So I let my crush sink into my chest because it is never going to happen. Not in a million years and I accept this one sided rejection because it's best to be smart than make an absolute fool out of yourself.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on him, I thought heaven had dropped one of its angels because I knew my jaw was on the floor when my eyes collided with his.
Fuck, I don't believe in magic, but that shit felt like a full blown magic show.
But right now, he strolls up to the counter as I drop the rag in my hand to the sink and flash him a smile. No matter how many times he's walked into the cafe, I still feel like a giddy teenager to be in his presence.
"Hey," he smiles at me.
"Hi, Declan," I return the favour. "Usual?"
"Of course. Thank you."
The only reason I know his name is because Demi was sick of having to refer to him as 'mystery man' when we spoke between us. As soon as she asked I remember my face going up in flames and pretended as if I wasn't interested in what's his name.
But I felt relieved to be able to put a name to a face. Especially his face.
I nod and get to making his coffee. The back of my neck begins to prick with heat, always the same reaction when he's standing so close. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye and he's glancing down at his phone.
He's not smiling or scowling, he's simply just looking.
But Goddamn, I want to touch that face.
As I look away for literally two seconds, the piping hot black coffee that pours over the edge of the cup and onto my hand has me hissing. I drag my eyes away from Declan before he notices me staring and I step back, wiping the burning liquid from my thumb.
"You good?" He asks with that husky voice that would make most women's panties wet.
I hum and ignore the way I feel like I've got a hole burning through my hand. "Just spilt a bit, sorry."
"It's all good," he shakes his head.
For a few moments I prepare his drink and make sure that I don't spill a drop, wiping the white cup from the coffee stains I just made. I place the coffee down onto the end of the counter as Declan hands me a five pound note, always paying in cash.
I take it from his fingers and open the till. "Keep the change." He tells me.
My eyes flick up under my fair lashes and I tilt my head. "You always tell me to keep the change," I say. "And trust me, that coffee is definitely not worth a fiver."
Declan's eyes flicker with amusement in my direction as he takes the mug. "Well I think it is," he says before he walks towards the end of the cafe.
I chew on my bottom lip. "Well alright, thanks."
No one comes into the cafe for the next thirty minutes which gives me the perfect opportunity to clean up the counters and refill what needs refilling. I keep taking peeks over at Declan as he sits with his MacBook directly in front of him.
I've always wondered what he does for a job because he's here most days for a few hours, where was he before... Where does he go after? Then realisation hits me, his wife most probably.
This crush is the stupidest thing ever.
I told myself that I need to focus on my own happiness, on myself rather than finding it from a man. I know I've been desperate for love in the past. When Alex walked into our friendship group and I acted like an immature boy who didn't know how to deal with asking someone out.
But then Alex and River got together, Demi and Troy have been together for years. It's hard being the single friend when they're all loved up and I've been left behind.
In the past I've been prone to throwing myself at anything with a heartbeat–male only though. All I've wanted is to feel that love I see people experience everyday and I'm wondering why am I not good enough for that?
Most guys don't like me back in the same way, say that I'm too overbearing and too much to handle. What does that even mean? I already know when I find the right person, I will love hard. I will love so fucking hard that I won't be able to contain myself.
Except I need to find a person who will take me for me and not get overwhelmed by my personality. I can dream.
The bell to the cafe rings again and I glance over to find Demi's dark curls bouncing towards me. I frown. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello to you too," she laughs as she meets me behind the counter. "Your mum rang me, asked if I could come in and sort the back room because it's a mess."
I scoff. "A mess is an understatement."
She removes her jacket and bag and hangs them up in the backroom. I watch as she begins to make herself a drink which we're all allowed to do, sometimes Demi sneaks money into the till but I tell her not to.
Once her coffee is made, she leans against the counter and we look over the fairly empty cafe. "Oop, there he is," she mumbles and I already know who she's talking about. "Looking dreamy as ever."
"Yeah, at least I can stand from afar and admire."
Demi breathes out a breath through her nose. "You'll be gutted when one day he stops turning up everyday and you'll never see him again."
I whip my head to her voice. "Don't say that."
She shrugs simply. "It's your life, Luca. You choose how to live it."
Then she walks away leaving her voice floating around my head.
It is my life, she's right. But I'm damn scared to do anything that involves going anywhere near Declan to ask him a simple question. It could mortify me for life.
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Read the rest of the book, bonus chapters and the first 9 chapters of the third book in the series!
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Author's Note
WELCOME TO THE FIRST CHAPTER!🤩
What did you guys think? I'm so excited to share this with you!👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼
I love being in Luca's head, there are a lot of things we don't know about him and I can't wait to dive right in!
Also I made a list of micro-tropes for this story and I think it might get you guys excited:
- 'you're drunk, I'm coming to get you'
- jealousy
- adorable, sassy niece
- 'let me take care of you' scenes
- hands tied behind back for punishment
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