Mission: Imbrewable - A Frothy Fiasco (The Coffee Loft Series: Mountain Brew Collection) by Leah Busboom

Author:Leah Busboom [Busboom, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LBRB Consulting LLC
Published: 2025-01-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Kaylee

At straight-up six, Liz and I walk across the grassy strip separating Luke’s campsite and mine. I admit to being a little nervous and fretting over that incredible first kiss we shared on the mountain. My toes still curl at the memory! The guy knows how to kiss, but what did it mean? Was it just a spontaneous reaction to me almost tumbling down the trail? If he’s planning to go back home at the end of the week, can this really go anywhere?

I observe Luke undetected as he sets food on the picnic table. Despite my underwhelming dating experience—meaning I’ve dated exactly two guys for any length of time—this guy makes me want to instantly assign him boyfriend status and hope he returns the favor of deeming me his girlfriend. What’s happening to me? I usually overthink everything, but here I am considering a serious relationship with a guy I’ve known for less than a couple days.

Yap! Yap! Liz blows our cover.

Luke looks up, and a slow sexy smile crosses his face, causing my heart to flip. Whew! I’ve got it bad for this guy.

“Hey! You made it,” he says.

Trying not to trip over my own feet, I carefully pick my way across the last stretch of grass as Liz pulls like a Saint Bernard, tugging at the end of her leash. Luke bends over and greets my dog while she dances around his feet. She’s as taken with him as I am.

“I brought some chips and salsa,” I say, holding up my contribution to the meal. “Hope this goes okay with the prepackaged meals.”

“Practically anything goes okay with these,” he says, pointing to a variety of shiny pouches spread out on the tabletop. “Lady’s choice.”

“Do you have to heat them?” I ask as I pick up a pouch and read the label.

“No, they’re not that kind, I got the ones you don’t have to warm. Just open, stir, and eat.” He seems rather pleased with that choice, but I’m dubious. Cold entrées?

Deciding on the cheese tortellini meal, I rip open the pouch. Luke hands me a fork, and I dig in. Eating pasta cold is not exactly a culinary delight: it reminds me of eating paste. Not that I’ve ever eaten that, but I imagine this is what it would taste like. Plastering on a neutral expression, I choke down my first bite.

Chew, chew, chew. Take a sip of water. Chew. Chew. Chew.

“You’re wrinkling your nose. Do you hate it?” he asks.

I swallow the horrible bite, trying not to gag. “I’d like it better if it was warm,” I rasp. “It’s edible, but—”

He laughs. “But?”

Turning apologetic eyes to him, I say, “But it’s like eating paste.”

Barking a laugh, he says, “That bad?”

“I think I’d rather eat a peanut butter and dill pickle sandwich than this. Sorry!” I say, grabbing a couple chips, furiously dipping them in the salsa, and popping them into my mouth, hoping to eliminate that awful paste taste.

“MREs aren’t for everybody, but you can

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