Green Tea Latte To Go Read online

  Green Tea Latte To Go

  AVEN ELLIS

  Green Tea Latte To Go

  Copyright © 2016 Aven Ellis

  Cover Design by Becky Monson

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

  table of contents

  BOOKS BY AVEN ELLIS

  CONNECT WITH AVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  EPILOGUE

  BOOKS BY AVEN ELLIS

  Connectivity

  Surviving The Rachel

  Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista

  Waiting For Prince Harry (Dallas Demons #1)

  The Definition of Icing (Dallas Demons #2)

  Breakout (Dallas Demons #3)

  On Thin Ice (Dallas Demons #4)

  The Aubrey Rules (Chicago on Ice #1)

  Trivial Pursuits (Chicago on Ice #2)

  CONNECT WITH AVEN

  Amazon Author Page

  Website

  Facebook Page

  Twitter

  For Derna, Wendy, and Emma

  Derna-Thank you for putting up with my extremely long voice mails. I love you. And I hope you notice I did expand your role in this book by giving you a love interest, LOL.

  Wendy-Thank you for answering endless Seattle questions, rabbit questions, and of course, for being YOU. I love you sweetie!

  Emma-You have been there since the beginning and I’m so lucky I sent you that email for a review! Your friendship has been one of my greatest gifts. Love you!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, this book did not happen without the belief of Becky Monson in me. Thank you for encouraging me, guiding me, and most of all, believing in this story I wanted to tell. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all that you have done for me. You are truly one of the good people in the world and I am beyond blessed to have you as a mentor and friend.

  Kathryn Biel, thank you for pushing me to be brave. Lori, thank you for wanting to make my book the best possible book it can be.

  Thank you to my Beta Baes. Thank you for always giving me what I need, and not just with the writing process. Thank you for reassurance, for reading, for being a part of my life every day. None of these books happen with you.

  To Alexandra, my assistant. You put up with me on a daily basis and I love you for it. Thank you for your guiding hand, your voice of reason, and your belief in me. Love you.

  A huge thank you to Charlotte at HRH Duchess Kate (http://hrhduchesskate.blogspot.com/) for giving me insight on blogging and answering all my questions. Payton does not exist without your input. Thank you for being so generous with your time and expertise.

  To all my animal consults for this book-thank you for making Brooks and his pets come to life. Thank you Lydia Weaver and Sheldon, Jennifer Stoughton and Hobbs, Dawn Bleeker and Joy, A’Lissa DeVorss and Peppa for sharing your pig wisdom and insight with me and answering even the simplest of questions. All of you were patient, kind, and so good about sharing your wisdom and I’m so grateful for it. I’m also grateful I got to meet all of you.

  Misty Wempe, thank you for your endless patience and willingness to read my emails and provide detailed answers. I’m taking you up on that visit, by the way!

  Thank you Wendy Hung not only for your Seattle expertise, but rabbit expertise, too. Thank you Ashlea Johnson for all the detailed information about rabbits and never thinking any question was ridiculous. You ladies are the best!

  Amanda Evans, thank you for sharing opossum details and your cutie Mo with me. You made Brooks shine when he had to take care of one.

  Joanne Lui, I’m so grateful for your friendship. Thank you for letting me use Grover in the book. I also want to thank Jaclyn Paz for being my friend and for letting me use Penny Pie –I had to use a dog who has her own Instagram, LOL!

  Thank you Diane Ptacin for Seattle details. The city is another character thanks to you!

  To all my Lovelies-thank you for your endless support and cheerleading. This journey doesn’t happen without all of you.

  Amanda and Claudia-Your love, friendship and support is always a given. I love you so much!

  Lauren Linwood-thank you as always for offering your opinion, your eagle eye, and most of all, your friendship.

  To my Twinnie, Holly Martin- Thank you for always reading my work, offering suggestions, helping me be a better author. But it is your friendship I value about all else. I love you.

  Tanya Shelton, thank you for reading every word I’ve ever written. Your belief in me has been there from the first page you read. I’m so blessed to have you in my life!

  Thank you to Jennifer and Mary, who run the Aven Ellis reader group on Facebook (Kate, Skates, and Coffee Cakes.) You both are such amazing women with a passion for books. I love you ladies so much!

  And thank you to all my readers. None of this happens without your support. I’m truly blessed.

  CHAPTER 1

  Today’s plan to improve myself item: To achieve perfect physical health, I will attend the early morning yoga class. And enjoy a green tea latte to go from Coffee By Jules, with coconut milk and raw honey.

  ***

  “Bring yourself to a sitting position,” Alanna says as she walks around the yoga studio. “Nice and tall. Close your eyes. Let the tension flow from your body . . .”

  I sit on my yoga mat, breathing in and exhaling according to Alanna’s instructions.

  “Clear your mind,” Alanna continues over the new age music that fills the room. “No distractions.”

  Nope, not distracted. I, Payton James, am completely focused on my yoga practice. After all, one can’t perfect yoga without total devotion to the pose at hand.

  I wonder if I can find an affordable copy of that ISSA wrap dress that the Duchess of Cambridge loves for my blog?

  Gah! No! No thoughts of my blog.

  I really want to duplicate that look for my readers this week.

  I mentally bitch slap myself. Focus. Yoga. Health. Not my work.

  I squint and glance around the studio. Students still have their eyes shut. Oh, come on, surely I’m not the only one who has a wandering mind, right?

  “Breathe in,” Alanna says, “and breathe out. Be in the moment.”

  I dutifully close my
eyes. Yes. Back in the moment.

  I wonder if I can find those super cute Kate Spade yoga pants on sale?

  Okay. So it’s going to take me a long time to get in the moment with yoga.

  But I’m totally in the moment with Kate Spade yoga clothing. And with planning my next fashion find blog for my Duchess of Cambridge fashion website.

  “Namaste.”

  I blink as the entire class says the word in unison. Oh, crap. I totally got lost in thought and missed closing hands to heart chakra and saying, “Namaste,” while bowing my head.

  I can see perfecting my yoga is going to be a very long process.

  I sigh and roll up my yoga mat. As I do, I feel someone staring at me. I look up and see the fiftyish woman who was practicing to my left studying me.

  “Don’t worry, little cherub,” she says sweetly as she puts her designer yoga bag over her shoulder. “You’ll move past downward-facing dog. Hopefully.”

  Then she laughs and pats her bobbed platinum hair before heading off with her friends.

  I frown. Did she really call me “cherub”? Cherub? Why, because I have golden, curly hair? And just because she can twist herself into a freaking pretzel while I am a ten on the inflexible scale doesn’t mean I’ll never move past downward-facing dog.

  She was totally a mean girl in high school. I can tell.

  “Payton,” Alanna says, moving over to me and interrupting my thoughts, “remember at the end of class that your mind should be calm. I sense that you are running on a very high energy today.”

  I frown. Obviously, Alanna doesn’t have a part-time job as a professional errand runner and Duchess Kate fashion blogger. And while my brain is constantly in motion—thinking, dreaming, planning—I think Alanna lives in the moment she’s in.

  I sigh. If yoga weren't considered such a wonderful thing to do for health, I’d reevaluate what I was doing here.

  “I’ll work on that,” I say determinedly as I put my bright pink yoga mat into my bag.

  I’m incredibly stubborn about wanting to perfect anything I do. And I want to show pretzel-woman that I can be a pretzel, too.

  “Have a great week,” Alanna says, smiling at me. “And practice some meditation. It will help you calm your mind. I have beginner sessions on my YouTube channel if you want to try one.”

  Argh. Meditation? I have a hard enough time getting through yoga, and I get to move with that. I can’t imagine simply sitting still and trying to visualize a beach while listening to waves or my inner thoughts or whatever you do when you meditate. The mere idea of trying to sit and simply be gives me hives.

  “Um, okay,” I say, not promising anything. “Have a good week!”

  I walk out of class and into the bustling Ballard neighborhood of Seattle. It’s a beautiful June morning, with bright sunshine even though it’s only seven o’clock. The temperature is going to be in the upper sixties later, a beautiful day. Full sun! But since it’s cool out now, I’m glad I have my coordinating workout jacket over my black and white yoga top and matching capris.

  I stroll down the street, my brain mentally flipping the pages in my planner which is tucked inside my purse. Today. June 5. I want to complete an article for my blog, Payton’s Take on Kate, where I showcase the fabulous, utterly perfect style of Kate Middleton and how I re-envision the look with different pieces at all price points.

  While my parents are mortified that I graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in marketing but am now working as an errand runner and Kate blogger, I have to follow my heart. I love fashion and blogging; I love meeting people from around the world who want to discuss Kate’s latest public appearance outfit and if they can get that beloved ISSA dress on sale.

  My long-term vision is for the blog to be a success financially. I can make money from advertising and then have my Kate blog feed into my lifestyle blog, Payton’s Take on Living, where I chronicle my lifestyle in Ballard, Washington, post-graduation. I have a business plan. I want to publish some lifestyle books based off my Living blog, in addition to some e-booklets I want to write.

  But Mom and Dad think I’m ridiculous. They want me to be more like my older sister, Sophie. Sophie, who is a research scientist with a pharmaceutical firm in Seattle. Oh, and is married to an equally successful contracts attorney with a beautiful baby boy named Connor. Mom is obsessed with the idea that I’ll be running errands my entire life. Dad keeps asking why I “can’t go work at Google and do a real job?”

  Because you know, apparently everyone in Seattle wants a job at Google.

  Oy.

  Anyway, errand running supports my vision. I mentally go back to June 5th. I can see in my planner that my first appointment isn’t until nine, when I will work with a new client in the Ravenna neighborhood. I’m not sure what errands I will be doing for her, but I’m booked out all day. I hope that I’ll get to walk dogs or something that involves being outside.

  I reach my location and tug open the door to Coffee By Jules, the bells clanging against it as I do. Ah, bliss. I inhale the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the space, one of the most comforting scents in the world as far as I’m concerned. Even if I prefer to drink tea instead.

  I head across the old hardwood floors of the shop, which has an eclectic, homey vibe to it. There’s already a line at the counter. I step closer and readjust the band on my ponytail, which is keeping my long, blonde curls out of my face. There. Better.

  I wait patiently as I listen to Enya playing from the overhead speakers. I scan the counter and see Maureen is at the register - must be her Monday on, and Brad the barista and oh, I spot a new girl. She’s young like me, early twenties, and she has jet-black hair with purple streaks and a nose-ring. She seems flustered by all the activity going on around her, and I would be, too. Orders are being called out right and left, and she’s trying to scribble on cups, which I see are stacking up on the counter.

  “What does this say?” Brad barks, holding a cup to her.

  She chews her lower lip, which has a deep purple lipstick applied on it. “Mmmm . . . I . . . I don’t remember!”

  Brad lets out a sigh as the door clangs again, the bells chiming over Enya to announce a customer coming or going.

  “Carrie, what was your order?” Brad yells out over the hissing of the espresso machines.

  “Double shot Americano,” Carrie speaks up.

  “Oh, D. D for double,” the new barista nods.

  I finally make it up to Maureen, who smiles at me. She knows my order without even asking.

  “One green tea latte with coconut milk and one squirt raw honey for Payton,” Maureen calls out.

  I glance at the new girl. She appears paralyzed by my order.

  “Do you ever get anything different? Earl Grey latte? Lavender tea latte?” Maureen asks as she rings up my order.

  I smile. “Nope. My green tea latte is the perfect healthy drink for my morning,” I declare. “Once you achieve perfection, why mess with it?”

  I hand her my debit card, and she swipes it. I thank her and retrieve my phone out of my purse, scooting down toward the drink pick up area at the end of the counter.

  I swipe open my email and see that one of my readers—a girl named Jo in Lancashire, England—has a lead on a sale at Temperley London, one of Kate’s favorite designers. Yes! Now I can do a Temperley sale feature on the blog today. I quickly message her back, thanking her for the heads up. I’ll need to post it today.

  See? This is what I love about my job, connecting with someone from across the Atlantic because of a mutual love of Kate’s style. Jo is so fun—we even chat on WhatsApp—and I can’t wait to go back to the UK to meet her someday.

  So many people wonder why I love Kate so much. Besides the fact that I’m utterly fascinated with all things related to the United Kingdom, it’s simple, really. She is pure class. Kate is always appropriate. Whether she’s doing an official visit, running errands, or attending a gala, she’s perfection in her
choices. And while I don’t duplicate every outfit myself—after all, she is a duchess and I’m simply Payton of Ballard, ha!—I do find inspiration in her wardrobe for being an elegant woman.

  “Orders for Payton and Brooks,” purple-haired barista girl yells out, pushing two cups across the counter.

  I reach for one, and so does a guy behind me. Our arms brush against each other, and I immediately pull my arm away.

  I turn around to say, “I’m sorry,” but as soon as I do, the words evaporate on my tongue.

  Because I’m completely paralyzed by the brown eyes of the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

  CHAPTER 2

  *Mental Note* Additional item to improve myself today: Practice talking to strangers.

  In particular, gorgeous ones who happen to reach for the same coffee cup as me.

  This is a social skill, after all.

  It’s very important to be able to initiate conversation in the adult world.

  Did I mention this guy is HOT?

  ***

  I quickly assess him with my eyes. He’s very tall, about 6’4. I’d guess mid-twenties for his age. He has thick, chocolate-brown hair that is cut short and the barest hint of stubble shading his jawline. The guy is wearing a gray Seattle Seahawks T-shirt with a blue plaid shirt thrown over the top, jeans, and has a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

  The sexiest man ever stares back at me with gorgeous brown eyes, ones the color of brandy.

  “So sorry, let’s try that again,” he says in a British accent, grinning at me.

  Oh, mother of God, he’s British.

  With a wonderful, deep voice.

  “You’re British,” I blurt out.

  I feel my face grow hot as soon as the words escape me. Crap. This is the dumbest thing I could ever say to him.

  Well, worse would be telling him he’s not only British but has a deep voice. That would be worse. But only by a smidge.