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Bored.

How could this happen? Years of learning beside her father, coffee scientist Dr. Meyer, decades of traveling to major coffee-producing locations—Hawaii, Ethiopia, Brazil, Indonesia—had fostered her dream. All her life she’d known she’d escape the Midwest for the serenity, beauty and open-mindedness of the California coast, that she’d be her own boss with her own shop...she was living a fantasy come true! How many people got to do that?

Her fraternal twin sister, Chris, older by a whole two minutes and as glamorous and driven as Eva was nonconformist and laid-back, had made her same dream come true in New York City, buying the shop NYEspresso a couple of years after Eva rescued a sad little bankrupt souvenir shop and transformed it into Slow Pour. You didn’t see Chris whining after achieving her life’s goal. What kind of spoiled brat would have it all and still be wanting more?

She sighed, sipping her tea, watching the sky turn Crayola colors...

Bored.

* * *

“UNGH.” CHRIS FLOPPED onto the narrow bed in her small bedroom in the tiny apartment on East Eighty-Seventh Street that she shared with her roommate, Natalie. Outside her window a siren blared, horns honked, a driver shouted, “Get the heck out of the way, please!”

Only he didn’t say please. Or heck.

She was exhausted.

Not fun to admit. Or to experience. She’d always had the energy of an ant. Or a hummingbird. Or a gazelle. Now she was more like a cow. Or cat. Or sloth. For a while she thought maybe her low mood was due to the death of her favorite season, summer, and the approaching long winter months. Or maybe residual disappointment over her breakup with John, though that had been weeks ago, and they’d only dated four months before realizing they were not so meant to be after all.

But today she’d actually turned down an invitation to go dancing with friends from her Zumba class. Instead, she’d chosen to come home, eat a bowl of soup and stare at the wall, because she was...

Exhausted.

No, no, this was all wrong! Since when did anything even slow her down, let alone wear her out? She’d known her whole life that she’d end up in a major city someday. Noise, bustle and a certain amount of chaos were her bread and butter, her peanut butter and Nutella, her French roast and cream. Bright lights, big city—oh, yeah, bring it on! And had she ever. For the past three years, she’d been part of the amazing ride that was New York City, working first as a manager at Fine Grind and last year buying the store and making it her own, NYEspresso. She hadn’t been turning an amazing profit, but hadn’t run it into the ground, either. Her dream had come true! Somebody pinch her!

No, someone punch her for all this whining. Her free-spirited twin, Eva, had also achieved coffee nirvana, and she was having a blast, not a boohoo-fest.

Chris lifted her head, gave up, let it drop back on the pillow.

Nothing helped. She was simply...

Exhausted.

* * *

THE SUN’S GLOWING disk disappeared over the horizon. Eva hauled her cell out of her pocket to call her sister. Born on Christmas Eve—hence their names—on the surface Chris and Eva were about as different as two souls could be, except for their shared love of all things coffee. But they still had the deep bond of most twins. Chris might not understand Eva’s off mood, but she’d be supportive and helpful, even if it was just to tell Eva to snap out of it.

Maybe that was all Eva needed.

Chris picked up immediately. “Hey, twin, how goes it?”

“Okay.” Eva frowned. “What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“You don’t sound like yourself, either.”

“No? Who do I sound like? Wait, don’t tell me. Scarlett Johansson.”

“I’m thinking...Eva with sharp edges. Who do I sound like?”

“Chris dulled down.”

“Tell me what’s going on?” They both spoke at once.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

Eva giggled. Just hearing her twin’s voice made her feel better. “I’m sitting on warm sand watching the sky fade from magenta to coral to pink to navy. There are palm trees behind me, waves making a great swishing sound in front of me...”

Chris snorted. “And something is wrong?”


Tags: Isabel Sharpe Billionaire Romance