Barista vs. Billionaire

Chapter 1

Poppy

I fumble with my keys, juggling my oversized tote and the box of fresh pastries I picked up from Maple Grove Bakery. The sun's barely peeking over the horizon, and I'm already running late. I push open the door to Rise & Grind, my mind racing with the day's to-do list.

"Alright, Poppy. First things first. Brew the—"

My words die in my throat. I blink once. Twice. Three times. I even pinch myself for good measure, wincing at the sharp sting. But nope, the scene before me doesn't change one bit.

There's an alpaca in my café. An honest-to-goodness, wooly, long-necked alpaca, standing right there between the pastry case and the espresso machine like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And it's not just any alpaca. This particular camelid has half a vegan pumpkin spice muffin hanging out of its mouth, crumbs dusting its wooly chin. The muffin I'd baked fresh last night, mind you.

I set down my load with a thunk, my oversized tote sliding off my shoulder to the floor. Rubbing my eyes vigorously, I mutter to myself, "Girl, you've finally lost it. Too many late nights and early mornings have finally done you in."

The alpaca lets out a soft humming noise, tilting its head at me as if to say, "What's the problem?" Its dark eyes regard me with what I swear is amusement, still chomping away at my prized muffin.

"My God." I pat my pockets frantically for my phone, wondering if I should call animal control or a psychiatrist. Maybe both. "This is not how I planned to start my Monday."

The alpaca takes another bite of the muffin, chewing slowly as if savoring every morsel.

"How'd you even get in here?" I ask, inching closer. "And how'd you get that muffin case open? You don't even have opposable thumbs!"

It blinks at me with long lashes, looking far too innocent for a four-legged pastry thief.

I circle around, checking for broken windows or forced doors. Nothing. It's like this wooly creature materialized out of thin air, drawn by the siren call of vegan baked goods.

"Okay, calm down," I mutter to myself. "There's got to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe I'm still dreaming? Or maybe that extra shot in my morning coffee was a bad idea."

The alpaca finishes the muffin and eyes the rest of the batch longingly.

"Oh no, you don't." I dash over, slamming the case shut. "Those are for paying customers. Even if they're apparently alpaca-approved."

It lets out a disappointed hum, and I swear it's pouting at me.

"Don't give me that look. You're lucky I'm not charging you for breaking and entering. And muffin theft."

I grab my phone, scrolling through my contacts. Who do you even call in a situation like this? The police? Animal control? A local farm?

As I'm debating my options, the alpaca saunters over to me, its hooves clicking on the hardwood floor. It nuzzles my hand, leaving a trail of muffin crumbs on my sleeve.

That small gesture gives me pause.

"You're kind of cute, aren't you?" I say, begrudgingly patting its head. "In a 'what in the world are you doing here' kind of way."

The alpaca lets out another hum, almost like it's agreeing with me.

"Alright, mystery muffin muncher. I need to get you out of here. How am I supposed to serve customers with you, standing in the middle of the store with your furry self? But first..." I grab my phone and snap a quick selfie with my unexpected guest. "Because if I don't document this, no one's ever going to believe me."

After taking a few photos and sending some to my email, making it extra unlikely that I'll ever lose my proof of this encounter, I sigh.

"Alright, fluffy intruder. Time for you to skedaddle."

I gently push against the alpaca's side, trying to guide it towards the door. It doesn't budge. Instead, it turns its head and gives me a look that can only be described as amused.

"Come on, buddy. This isn't your home." I try again, this time with a little more force. The alpaca responds by plopping down on its haunches, looking for all the world like it's settling in for a long stay.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. "Oh, no you don't. I've got a business to run here!"

Spotting the broom in the corner, I have what I think is a brilliant idea. I grab it and wave it gently towards the alpaca.

"Shoo! Go on, get!"

The alpaca's eyes widen, and for a moment, I think I've succeeded. Then, in a flurry of movement, it jumps up and darts around me. Before I can react, it's rubbing against the broom like an oversized, wooly cat.

"Hey! Stop that!" I cry, but it's too late. The alpaca prances away, leaving me covered in a layer of soft, fluffy fur. I blow a strand out of my face, exasperated.

After a few more failed attempts, including an ill-advised try with a trail of muffin crumbs that only results in more mess, I slump against the counter. The alpaca, seemingly pleased with itself, nuzzles my hand again.

"Fine," I grumble, patting its head. "You win. For now."

Pulling out my phone, I start googling local farms and petting zoos. Surely someone's missing their alpaca, right?

My first call is to Green Mountain Farm, just outside town. "Hi, this is Poppy from Rise & Grind. You wouldn't happen to be missing an alpaca, would you?"

There's a pause on the other end. Then laughter. "An alpaca? In downtown Maple Grove? Good one, Poppy!"

I try to explain, but they hang up, still chuckling. Undeterred, I move on to the next number on my list.

"Sunshine Petting Zoo, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I've got a bit of an odd situation here. There's an alpaca in my coffee shop, and I'm trying to find its owner."

Another pause. More laughter. "An alpaca? In a coffee shop? What's it doing, ordering a latte?"

I grit my teeth. "No, it's eating my muffins! Look, I'm serious. There's really an alpaca here!"

"Sure, sure. And I've got a unicorn in my backyard. Thanks for the laugh, ma'am!"

Click.

And so it goes. Call after call, farm after farm, zoo after zoo. Each conversation ends the same way—with confusion, disbelief, and laughter at my expense. My frustration grows with each failed attempt.

An hour later, I'm slumped over the counter, my phone clutched in my hand, the alpaca happily munching on another purloined muffin beside me.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accuse, eyeing the creature. It looks at me, chewing slowly, and I swear I see a glint of mischief in its eyes.

I stare at the alpaca, who's now licking cinnamon sugar off his lips. As I play with my long, dangly earrings, I've come to the conclusion that I can't seem to get rid of this guy. Shaking my head, I think of ways of telling Finn about this. For so long, I've told her how I wanted a guy to stick around for me. I never meant it like… this!

"Well, buddy, looks like you're stuck with me for now."

The creature blinks, looking far too pleased with itself.

"Alright, if you're gonna hang around, you need a name." I tap my chin, considering. "How about... Cinnamon? Since you seem to have a thing for my cinnamon rolls."

Cinnamon lets out a soft hum that I choose to interpret as approval.

"Cinnamon it is. Now, let's figure out where to put you."

I survey my cafe, trying to imagine how I can possibly accommodate an alpaca without violating every health code in existence. My eyes land on the storage room in the back.

"It's not ideal, but it'll have to do."

I spend the next hour clearing out boxes, rearranging shelves, and creating a makeshift pen using some old patio furniture and a length of rope I find in a dusty corner. It's not pretty, but it should keep Cinnamon contained.

"Come on, big guy. Your five-star accommodations await."

Cinnamon follows me willingly enough, seeming more interested in the possibility of more treats than his new living arrangements. Once inside, he circles the space, sniffing at corners and eyeing the shelves stocked with coffee beans and baking supplies.

"Don't even think about it," I warn, wagging a finger at him. "You've already cost me half a day's worth of pastries."

I fill a large mixing bowl with water and set it in the corner, then spread some old newspapers on the floor.

"It's not exactly the Ritz, but it'll do for now."

Cinnamon gives me a look that seems to say, "You call this hospitality?"

My hands flop to my sides in defeat. "Hey, it's the best I can do on short notice. Be grateful I'm not calling animal control. I bet they wouldn't even believe me, either."

As I close the door behind me, leaving it slightly ajar for air, I lean against the wall and let out a long sigh.

"What am I doing?" I mutter to myself. "I run a coffee shop, not a petting zoo."

The sound of the front door chiming snaps me back to reality. Customers. Right. I've got a business to run.

I hurry to the front, plastering on my best smile. "Welcome to Rise & Grind! What can I get for you today?"

As I take orders and brew coffee, my mind races. How am I going to explain Cinnamon to my regulars? To the health inspector? To anyone with a shred of common sense?

I'm so lost in thought that I nearly overfill a latte. "Get it together, Poppy," I mutter, shaking my head.

Between customers, I sneak glances at the storage room door, half-expecting Cinnamon to come bursting out at any moment. But the door remains slightly ajar, and the only sounds coming from within are the occasional soft hum or rustle of movement.

As the morning rush dies down, I find myself rehearsing explanations in my head. "Oh, the alpaca? He's... um... part of a new farm-to-table initiative?" No, that's ridiculous. "He's a therapy alpaca?" Who would believe that?

I groan, rubbing my temples. This is going to be a long day.