Charleston with a Clever Cougar: A Dance with Danger Mystery #6 by Sara M. Barton Read Free Book Online Page A

six, when you close?” Doc glanced over at me, his
heavy glasses obscuring his eyes.
    “True. Where are you going with this?”
    “Even if you keep Walter until two, that’s a
long shift for him, isn’t it?”
    “And?” I had no idea what his point was.
    “Let me be your hands,” Doc said. “You can
tell me everything you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
    “Why would you want to do that?” I asked,
confused. “Don’t you have something better to do? Don’t you have a
job?”
    “At the moment, no. I’m on leave.”
    “Leave? You’re still in the Army?”
    “No, I’m taking a break, sorting things out
for myself before I start a new job.”
    For a moment, I wondered if there even was a
job. Maybe Doc was one of those soldiers, back from the war, who
have trouble re-adjusting to civilian life.
    “I start on the fifteenth at an insurance
company just outside of Springfield, as a claims adjuster,” he
explained. “I decided to just spend a couple of weeks wandering
around until I have to report for work.”
    “And you want to waste your time helping
me?”
    “Hey, forget I asked. You don’t want my help,
you don’t want it.” That wall popped up between us yet again and a
dark cloud seemed to hover above Doc’s head. The horizon looked
like it was about to get stormy.
    “That wasn’t what I meant, Doc. You’ll have
to forgive me. I’m not used to people being so nice to me, and to
be honest, I’m not really good at needing people.” That popped out
unexpectedly. I had no intention of explaining myself to this
stranger. After all, I wasn’t even sure I could trust him. What if
he was lying to me? What if he was dangerous?
    “Used to being in control?” he shot back.
    “Actually, I guess I am. It seems like every
time I give it up, I get screwed,” I admitted.
    “I know the feeling.”
    “Look, if you really want to help me, you’re
going to have to let me pay you somehow, so I don’t feel obligated
to you. And please don’t get mad at me. It’s just the way I am,” I
confessed. “I like balance in my life. You want money? Free meals?
What can I give you in exchange for your help, which I actually
need?”
    There was a long silence from Doc’s side of
the van. His eyes never strayed from the road. I knew he wasn’t
ignoring me. He seemed to be thinking. At last, he cleared his
throat.
    “Okay, here’s how you can repay me. Teach me
to roast coffee.”
    “What?”
    “That’s what I want from you. I want to learn
how to roast my own coffee and I want to play around with the
beans, mix my own blends.”
    As I sat there, I was stunned, thinking that
this was almost too good to be true. Here I was, in need of a
helpful pair of hands, and the guy only wanted to learn how to
roast coffee? And I just happened to need to roast some beans
tomorrow. What was the catch? Was he planning to open his own
coffee shop? Is that why he wandered into Cady’s Cakes? Was I about
to get screwed by a devilish competitor? He seemed to read my
mind.
    “I really do have a job with an insurance
company,” he assured me. “And as to why I want to learn how to
roast my own coffee, I was in a coffee house in Tanzania one time,
a long time ago, and I had the best damned cup of coffee I ever
had. I’ve been to a lot of coffee places since then, but I’ve never
had anything quite like it. I keep thinking that if I have a chance
to play around with the beans, I can make the same blend.”
    “Why not just ask the owner of the coffee
house?” I wondered.
    “I tried that,” Doc admitted. “The guy told
me it was a secret recipe.”
    “Did you try his competitors’ coffee?”
    “Totally different from his. I just know he
did something different with his beans. I even went so far as to
ask the guy if I could buy some of his beans, but he refused.” Doc
sounded disgusted. “It’s just coffee! It’s not like it’s the
formula for rocket fuel!”
    “And you don’t like anyone telling you