An excerpt from The CEO:
“This is the place where million-dollar ideas happen?” Neil asked, sitting down at their table with his coffee.
Ren gave his good friend a look. He would have kicked him, but Neil might have spilled his coffee, and it was damn good coffee.
“I see why you do all your planning here,” Case said, looking around Trolley Hill Coffee Company. “Great atmosphere.”
Ren nodded. Of course it had a great atmosphere. The whir of coffee grinder and the tapping of the espresso filter contributed the perfect amount of white noise guaranteed to make anyone focus. The coffee shop had a gas fireplace lit most of the year—it was Seattle after all—and huge picture windows looking onto the street, where additional Adirondack chairs were lined-up to watch passers-by.
This Thursday morning, the sun was shining and the door was open to the street, allowing a cool spring breeze to enter. It was a different crowd this late in the morning—moms in their workout clothes, young kids in their strollers, and Cheerios littering the floor. Earlier it had been men and the women with headphones and open computers, working quietly away.
He’d been coming here every morning for ten years to plan his day, and it was odd to see his three friends in his place. Neil, who had started off as a construction worker and worked his way up to developing multiple apartment complexes in Seattle. Case, who made his living as a personal development leader after a successful career in sales.
“Good coffee,” James pronounced, after taking a sip from the brew. And James—the loner of their group—who developed top-selling apps out of his house.
“Damn right,” Ren said. It was probably the main reason he’d purchased his house right around the corner. Well, that and the amazing view. “Best in Seattle.”
Neil raised a brow. “Ladro has the best coffee in Seattle.”
Ren couldn’t let his comment sit. “Just because you have a deal with Ladro to open in all your new buildings, doesn’t mean they’re the best—“
“We going to argue about coffee or try to solve your issue?” James broke in. “Some of us have things to do. It is a Thursday morning,” he said, reminding everyone this was an odd time for their weekly meeting.
“Talking about Ren’s issues would take years,” Neil said in jest.
“And yours wouldn’t?” Ren threw back at him.
Neil just smiled. The whir of the coffee grinder sounded loud in the silence, as his three friends waited for him to start talking.
“I need a plan,” Ren said. Such a simple statement, yet it was the cause of so much…uncomfortableness, if that was even a word. While he’d been working his way to the top of his company, his life had purpose. Now that he’d sold SRC, he felt as though he were drifting. Again.
Case sat up, ready to dive in. “What kind of plan?” he asked.
“I need a goal,” Ren said. “Something for the next phase of my life. This not working thing is not working for me.”
“Sounds like a bumper sticker,” Neil said.
“Yeah, well, it sucks. I’m bored,” Ren said. The problem was he had too much time on his hands.
“It’s only been four weeks since you sold your company,” Case said.
“Five. That’s long enough,” Ren said. “I can’t sit around on my ass all day, or spend it tinkering with car engines. I need a goal. Something to do. To give me purpose.” He picked up his coffee cup, but didn’t drink. “Problem is, I can’t come up with a single idea. The well is dry.”
“I thought this place always triggered your best ideas? Isn’t that why we’re here in the morning drinking coffee rather than Boundary Bay IPA later tonight?” Neil asked.
“Every great idea I’ve ever had has come to me while I’m at that table in the corner,” Ren said.
They all turned to stare at the table. It was a simple wooden table located in a quiet corner next to the fireplace, with a view of the entire shop. A deep gash was on the wall near the fireplace, and someone had written coffee is evil on the right side of the table. Right now, the table was covered with muffin crumbs and spilled milk from a toddler, while an exhausted looking mom talked to a friend. Definitely not the same crowd at nine-thirty in the morning.
Normally, when Trolley Hill opened at six a.m., he’d get his coffee and then go through his morning routine: planning, goal setting, and ideating. It worked. After ten years, he was so triggered by the location, he couldn’t go anywhere else.
He’d tried.
“You know what I’m going to ask,” Case said, and all three guys groaned, mocking him. But it wasn’t serious, because Case was the best at getting to what was really driving someone. “What feeling are you looking for?” Case asked.
Belonging popped into his brain. But that couldn’t be right. Belonging was the emotion of a boy taken from his home and forced into a series of foster homes at twelve years of age. Ren had gotten over that years ago. He’d worked hard to get to a place where he didn’t need anyone except himself. “Satisfaction? Accomplishment?” He looked up at the corner of the shop where the purple on the ceiling met the mustard on the walls—horrible colors that made Trolley Hill so homey. “Purpose,” he finally said.
“Purpose is not a feeling,” Neil said.
Ren mentally rolled his eyes. “When I was running SRC, I knew I was pushing myself to my limits every day. Even when I was working the line and driving to get ahead, I felt the same motivation. And people knew I’d started at the bottom, so I’d earned respect of everyone from the janitor to the head of finance.” He’d prided himself on knowing SRC inside and out and being able to walk the line and talk to everyone. He’d belonged there.
Shit. There was that word again.
“You want to work the line again?” Neil asked.
“Hell, no.” Once he’d climbed his way to the top, he wasn’t going back. “I just need a new goal. My entire professional career was spent making it to the top at SRC and then making SRC the best in the business.” He leaned back in his chair. “What do you do after you reach your life’s goal?”
The table was silent.
And then Neil said, “I’d like to have your problem.”
James and Case chuckled. But Case added, “Look, you’re the first one of us to reach this point. None of us have hit our life’s goals. I’m not even close. But, I can tell you what I tell my clients. Go back to your mission and let that guide you. Your goal might be completely different this time around.”
Ah, that was another problem. Unfortunately, the guys didn’t know he’d never come up with his life’s mission. He’d been too focused on getting ahead. Proving himself. “So how do I figure out what my goal is?”
“Try a new place for your ideating?” Neil said.
“Already tried that,” Ren said. “Failure.”
“All of my best ideas come when I’m not trying to think about them,” James said.
Ren turned to James. He was the silent one in the group, but whenever he did speak up, Ren knew James had given it a lot of thought. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll push myself, trying to come up with a solution to a problem. When I can’t, I’ll intentionally stop thinking about it for a while. When I’m most relaxed—bam!—the idea comes to me.”
“Good plan,” Case added. “Relax. Think about something else for a while and maybe it will come to you.”
Hadn’t he been relaxed the past few weeks? “Maybe,” Ren said, determined to give it some thought. Or to not give it thought, if his friends were right. Maybe it wasn’t the relaxation, but the distraction he needed. And one of these mornings while he was going through his morning routine, the idea would simply pop into his head.
The guys continued to go through each of their issues and talk about their goals. They’d been meeting for their Master Mind group for years, and it worked. It was the entire reason each of them was a multimillionaire—together they focused their thinking, learned from each other, and held each other accountable.
“Anyone finished the book yet?” Case asked.
“I finished it weeks ago,” Ren said. Everyone raised their brows. “Well,” he said, “I have a boatload of time on my hands.”
Case looked at Neil.
“Too busy,” Neil said.
“Now you’re sounding like a Ted.” Ren called him on it.
“Ack, don’t call me a Ted! I know it’s an excuse. I’ve..ah..been dating someone, so my morning routine is a little…off.”
How long would this one would last? Neil payed a lot of lip service to getting married, but when it came down to it, he could never pull the trigger. He always ended up breaking up with the woman for one reason or another.
Ren, on the other hand, kept to relationships where the woman had no interest in getting married anytime soon. Although his girlfriends had been getting younger and younger and younger lately. Which was probably why he hadn’t been dating much recently. Hard to find an intelligent, mature woman who didn’t want a long-term commitment. Women his own age kept a clock ticking on every relationship.
“Back to our usual time and place next weekend?” Case asked, bringing them all back on topic. After a few more minutes of work talk, the other three headed back to work.
Ren had to squash the jealousy that leapt into his throat, and remind himself he had chosen to sell his company. He was a success. He was living the dream of every entrepreneur.
So why did he feel like shit?
He needed another coffee, because he hadn’t been sleeping well either. As he turned to the counter, however, he froze mid-step. The tattooed and pierced young woman behind the counter had pulled a twenty out of the register and shoved it in her pocket.
His stomach turned over, as if she’d stolen the twenty directly out of his wallet. This was his coffee shop, too, even if he didn’t have a financial stake in the business. He had time invested, and time was more valuable than money.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he ordered his coffee and watched her make the change. She would not cheat on his watch. While Brandon tapped out the espresso, Ren asked about the new owner, who’d bought the place last fall and thankfully not changed a thing.
“Haley? She’s back in the office,” Brandon said, pointing down the hall past the restrooms.
After grabbing his coffee, Ren headed back to the office to see the owner. He wouldn’t let the thief get away with stealing from his shop.
At the end of the hall, the office door was cracked, and he heard a woman speaking. “I’ll get you the payment next week, I promise. I just need a few days.”
Ren rolled his eyes. He’d heard similar comments often enough from some of his distributors. And whenever he heard it, he knew it was time to find a new distributor.
Blood rushed out of his head.
Employees stealing, late payments…shit. Trolley Hill Coffee was on its way out of business.
But he needed it to stay open. Where would he go? He couldn’t go to Starbuck’s for God’s sake!
Why now, of all times?
Maybe he’d misunderstood. Yep. That was it. He’d misunderstood. Everything was fine. He wouldn’t assume anything. Maybe she’d told the cashier she could take twenty from the register and he was simply panicking.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Just a second,” the woman said, but he was already pushing open the door.
She turned to him in surprise, and he was momentarily taken aback. This was the new owner? She was much younger than he’d expected—closer to his own age, he supposed. He’d seen the woman a few times when he’d stopped for a coffee in the afternoon, but he’d thought she was just a worker. Although she was petite, she had a presence that made him aware of her. She had her curly, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, which only emphasized the beauty of her face and the blue of her eyes. Eyes from which she was currently wiping tears.
“You’re the new owner?” he asked. Then he mentally kicked himself for ignoring her tears. “Is everything okay?” Then he mentally kicked and punched himself. Clearly, everything was not okay.
He was going to have to find a new coffee shop, and soon by the look on her face.
She stood up from behind her desk, masking her sadness. “Yes, of course. Can I help you?” Her voice was friendly, and if he hadn’t just heard her conversation on the phone and seen her tears, he would have thought everything was fine. Not everyone could pull themselves together like that.
Strength. Fortitude. How had she come by it?
He mentally shook his head. It didn’t matter, as long as she used her strength to keep this place open. “I’m Ren Morgan.”
“Haley McCourt.” She swallowed. “And yes, I’m the owner.”
She was…God, she was stunning. He’d thought it before, but now that he was truly paying attention, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She tilted her head, waiting for him to speak.
He came in and shut the door behind him. She gave a quick look to the door and then back to him. And took a step behind the desk.
Shit. He was so used to being in charge that he just shut the door by habit. He smiled, but it felt awkward and weird, so he just launched into it. “I didn’t think you’d want anyone to overhear our conversation. One of your employees stole twenty bucks from the cash register a few minutes ago.”
That certainly got her attention. “What?”
“I don’t know her name. The woman with all the tattoos?”
“Elyse?” She shook her head, disbelief marring her face. Although the woman had strength, she was far too trusting for someone running a minimum-wage operation. “She wouldn’t steal.”
“She definitely stole. Twenty bucks. When you true-up the register receipts at the end of her shift, you’ll have proof.”
The look on her face was priceless. He would have bet a million dollars she had never once trued-up the receipts at the end of a shift. Even he knew to do that, and he’d never worked retail in his life.
Looked like he would have to develop a taste for Starbuck’s sooner rather than later.
The uncomfortable feeling returned.
Moving around the desk, she headed for the door. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll be sure—”
He shifted to block the door. “Look, I’ve been coming here almost every morning for ten years. I’m not lying. And I want this coffee shop to stay in business.”
His comment got her attention, her cute little rosebud mouth opening in surprise, but then she schooled her features once again. “Wow. Ten years? I appreciate your loyalty. Could I get you a free coffee on your way out? To thank you?”
She wasn’t going to listen. He desperately needed this place to stay open, so he could come up with his life plan and get rid of this shitty uncomfortable feeling.
Then, as he always did when he was faced with an uphill battle, adrenaline pumped through his veins and his instincts kicked in.
“I overheard your conversation on the phone.” He stepped toward her. “I run…ran my own successful business. I just sold it, so I have time on my hands. And experience.” Hadn’t the guys said he needed to do something else to take his mind off his lack of direction? “I’m going to help you save the coffee shop.”
Ren gave his good friend a look. He would have kicked him, but Neil might have spilled his coffee, and it was damn good coffee.
“I see why you do all your planning here,” Case said, looking around Trolley Hill Coffee Company. “Great atmosphere.”
Ren nodded. Of course it had a great atmosphere. The whir of coffee grinder and the tapping of the espresso filter contributed the perfect amount of white noise guaranteed to make anyone focus. The coffee shop had a gas fireplace lit most of the year—it was Seattle after all—and huge picture windows looking onto the street, where additional Adirondack chairs were lined-up to watch passers-by.
This Thursday morning, the sun was shining and the door was open to the street, allowing a cool spring breeze to enter. It was a different crowd this late in the morning—moms in their workout clothes, young kids in their strollers, and Cheerios littering the floor. Earlier it had been men and the women with headphones and open computers, working quietly away.
He’d been coming here every morning for ten years to plan his day, and it was odd to see his three friends in his place. Neil, who had started off as a construction worker and worked his way up to developing multiple apartment complexes in Seattle. Case, who made his living as a personal development leader after a successful career in sales.
“Good coffee,” James pronounced, after taking a sip from the brew. And James—the loner of their group—who developed top-selling apps out of his house.
“Damn right,” Ren said. It was probably the main reason he’d purchased his house right around the corner. Well, that and the amazing view. “Best in Seattle.”
Neil raised a brow. “Ladro has the best coffee in Seattle.”
Ren couldn’t let his comment sit. “Just because you have a deal with Ladro to open in all your new buildings, doesn’t mean they’re the best—“
“We going to argue about coffee or try to solve your issue?” James broke in. “Some of us have things to do. It is a Thursday morning,” he said, reminding everyone this was an odd time for their weekly meeting.
“Talking about Ren’s issues would take years,” Neil said in jest.
“And yours wouldn’t?” Ren threw back at him.
Neil just smiled. The whir of the coffee grinder sounded loud in the silence, as his three friends waited for him to start talking.
“I need a plan,” Ren said. Such a simple statement, yet it was the cause of so much…uncomfortableness, if that was even a word. While he’d been working his way to the top of his company, his life had purpose. Now that he’d sold SRC, he felt as though he were drifting. Again.
Case sat up, ready to dive in. “What kind of plan?” he asked.
“I need a goal,” Ren said. “Something for the next phase of my life. This not working thing is not working for me.”
“Sounds like a bumper sticker,” Neil said.
“Yeah, well, it sucks. I’m bored,” Ren said. The problem was he had too much time on his hands.
“It’s only been four weeks since you sold your company,” Case said.
“Five. That’s long enough,” Ren said. “I can’t sit around on my ass all day, or spend it tinkering with car engines. I need a goal. Something to do. To give me purpose.” He picked up his coffee cup, but didn’t drink. “Problem is, I can’t come up with a single idea. The well is dry.”
“I thought this place always triggered your best ideas? Isn’t that why we’re here in the morning drinking coffee rather than Boundary Bay IPA later tonight?” Neil asked.
“Every great idea I’ve ever had has come to me while I’m at that table in the corner,” Ren said.
They all turned to stare at the table. It was a simple wooden table located in a quiet corner next to the fireplace, with a view of the entire shop. A deep gash was on the wall near the fireplace, and someone had written coffee is evil on the right side of the table. Right now, the table was covered with muffin crumbs and spilled milk from a toddler, while an exhausted looking mom talked to a friend. Definitely not the same crowd at nine-thirty in the morning.
Normally, when Trolley Hill opened at six a.m., he’d get his coffee and then go through his morning routine: planning, goal setting, and ideating. It worked. After ten years, he was so triggered by the location, he couldn’t go anywhere else.
He’d tried.
“You know what I’m going to ask,” Case said, and all three guys groaned, mocking him. But it wasn’t serious, because Case was the best at getting to what was really driving someone. “What feeling are you looking for?” Case asked.
Belonging popped into his brain. But that couldn’t be right. Belonging was the emotion of a boy taken from his home and forced into a series of foster homes at twelve years of age. Ren had gotten over that years ago. He’d worked hard to get to a place where he didn’t need anyone except himself. “Satisfaction? Accomplishment?” He looked up at the corner of the shop where the purple on the ceiling met the mustard on the walls—horrible colors that made Trolley Hill so homey. “Purpose,” he finally said.
“Purpose is not a feeling,” Neil said.
Ren mentally rolled his eyes. “When I was running SRC, I knew I was pushing myself to my limits every day. Even when I was working the line and driving to get ahead, I felt the same motivation. And people knew I’d started at the bottom, so I’d earned respect of everyone from the janitor to the head of finance.” He’d prided himself on knowing SRC inside and out and being able to walk the line and talk to everyone. He’d belonged there.
Shit. There was that word again.
“You want to work the line again?” Neil asked.
“Hell, no.” Once he’d climbed his way to the top, he wasn’t going back. “I just need a new goal. My entire professional career was spent making it to the top at SRC and then making SRC the best in the business.” He leaned back in his chair. “What do you do after you reach your life’s goal?”
The table was silent.
And then Neil said, “I’d like to have your problem.”
James and Case chuckled. But Case added, “Look, you’re the first one of us to reach this point. None of us have hit our life’s goals. I’m not even close. But, I can tell you what I tell my clients. Go back to your mission and let that guide you. Your goal might be completely different this time around.”
Ah, that was another problem. Unfortunately, the guys didn’t know he’d never come up with his life’s mission. He’d been too focused on getting ahead. Proving himself. “So how do I figure out what my goal is?”
“Try a new place for your ideating?” Neil said.
“Already tried that,” Ren said. “Failure.”
“All of my best ideas come when I’m not trying to think about them,” James said.
Ren turned to James. He was the silent one in the group, but whenever he did speak up, Ren knew James had given it a lot of thought. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll push myself, trying to come up with a solution to a problem. When I can’t, I’ll intentionally stop thinking about it for a while. When I’m most relaxed—bam!—the idea comes to me.”
“Good plan,” Case added. “Relax. Think about something else for a while and maybe it will come to you.”
Hadn’t he been relaxed the past few weeks? “Maybe,” Ren said, determined to give it some thought. Or to not give it thought, if his friends were right. Maybe it wasn’t the relaxation, but the distraction he needed. And one of these mornings while he was going through his morning routine, the idea would simply pop into his head.
The guys continued to go through each of their issues and talk about their goals. They’d been meeting for their Master Mind group for years, and it worked. It was the entire reason each of them was a multimillionaire—together they focused their thinking, learned from each other, and held each other accountable.
“Anyone finished the book yet?” Case asked.
“I finished it weeks ago,” Ren said. Everyone raised their brows. “Well,” he said, “I have a boatload of time on my hands.”
Case looked at Neil.
“Too busy,” Neil said.
“Now you’re sounding like a Ted.” Ren called him on it.
“Ack, don’t call me a Ted! I know it’s an excuse. I’ve..ah..been dating someone, so my morning routine is a little…off.”
How long would this one would last? Neil payed a lot of lip service to getting married, but when it came down to it, he could never pull the trigger. He always ended up breaking up with the woman for one reason or another.
Ren, on the other hand, kept to relationships where the woman had no interest in getting married anytime soon. Although his girlfriends had been getting younger and younger and younger lately. Which was probably why he hadn’t been dating much recently. Hard to find an intelligent, mature woman who didn’t want a long-term commitment. Women his own age kept a clock ticking on every relationship.
“Back to our usual time and place next weekend?” Case asked, bringing them all back on topic. After a few more minutes of work talk, the other three headed back to work.
Ren had to squash the jealousy that leapt into his throat, and remind himself he had chosen to sell his company. He was a success. He was living the dream of every entrepreneur.
So why did he feel like shit?
He needed another coffee, because he hadn’t been sleeping well either. As he turned to the counter, however, he froze mid-step. The tattooed and pierced young woman behind the counter had pulled a twenty out of the register and shoved it in her pocket.
His stomach turned over, as if she’d stolen the twenty directly out of his wallet. This was his coffee shop, too, even if he didn’t have a financial stake in the business. He had time invested, and time was more valuable than money.
Narrowing his eyes at her, he ordered his coffee and watched her make the change. She would not cheat on his watch. While Brandon tapped out the espresso, Ren asked about the new owner, who’d bought the place last fall and thankfully not changed a thing.
“Haley? She’s back in the office,” Brandon said, pointing down the hall past the restrooms.
After grabbing his coffee, Ren headed back to the office to see the owner. He wouldn’t let the thief get away with stealing from his shop.
At the end of the hall, the office door was cracked, and he heard a woman speaking. “I’ll get you the payment next week, I promise. I just need a few days.”
Ren rolled his eyes. He’d heard similar comments often enough from some of his distributors. And whenever he heard it, he knew it was time to find a new distributor.
Blood rushed out of his head.
Employees stealing, late payments…shit. Trolley Hill Coffee was on its way out of business.
But he needed it to stay open. Where would he go? He couldn’t go to Starbuck’s for God’s sake!
Why now, of all times?
Maybe he’d misunderstood. Yep. That was it. He’d misunderstood. Everything was fine. He wouldn’t assume anything. Maybe she’d told the cashier she could take twenty from the register and he was simply panicking.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Just a second,” the woman said, but he was already pushing open the door.
She turned to him in surprise, and he was momentarily taken aback. This was the new owner? She was much younger than he’d expected—closer to his own age, he supposed. He’d seen the woman a few times when he’d stopped for a coffee in the afternoon, but he’d thought she was just a worker. Although she was petite, she had a presence that made him aware of her. She had her curly, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, which only emphasized the beauty of her face and the blue of her eyes. Eyes from which she was currently wiping tears.
“You’re the new owner?” he asked. Then he mentally kicked himself for ignoring her tears. “Is everything okay?” Then he mentally kicked and punched himself. Clearly, everything was not okay.
He was going to have to find a new coffee shop, and soon by the look on her face.
She stood up from behind her desk, masking her sadness. “Yes, of course. Can I help you?” Her voice was friendly, and if he hadn’t just heard her conversation on the phone and seen her tears, he would have thought everything was fine. Not everyone could pull themselves together like that.
Strength. Fortitude. How had she come by it?
He mentally shook his head. It didn’t matter, as long as she used her strength to keep this place open. “I’m Ren Morgan.”
“Haley McCourt.” She swallowed. “And yes, I’m the owner.”
She was…God, she was stunning. He’d thought it before, but now that he was truly paying attention, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She tilted her head, waiting for him to speak.
He came in and shut the door behind him. She gave a quick look to the door and then back to him. And took a step behind the desk.
Shit. He was so used to being in charge that he just shut the door by habit. He smiled, but it felt awkward and weird, so he just launched into it. “I didn’t think you’d want anyone to overhear our conversation. One of your employees stole twenty bucks from the cash register a few minutes ago.”
That certainly got her attention. “What?”
“I don’t know her name. The woman with all the tattoos?”
“Elyse?” She shook her head, disbelief marring her face. Although the woman had strength, she was far too trusting for someone running a minimum-wage operation. “She wouldn’t steal.”
“She definitely stole. Twenty bucks. When you true-up the register receipts at the end of her shift, you’ll have proof.”
The look on her face was priceless. He would have bet a million dollars she had never once trued-up the receipts at the end of a shift. Even he knew to do that, and he’d never worked retail in his life.
Looked like he would have to develop a taste for Starbuck’s sooner rather than later.
The uncomfortable feeling returned.
Moving around the desk, she headed for the door. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll be sure—”
He shifted to block the door. “Look, I’ve been coming here almost every morning for ten years. I’m not lying. And I want this coffee shop to stay in business.”
His comment got her attention, her cute little rosebud mouth opening in surprise, but then she schooled her features once again. “Wow. Ten years? I appreciate your loyalty. Could I get you a free coffee on your way out? To thank you?”
She wasn’t going to listen. He desperately needed this place to stay open, so he could come up with his life plan and get rid of this shitty uncomfortable feeling.
Then, as he always did when he was faced with an uphill battle, adrenaline pumped through his veins and his instincts kicked in.
“I overheard your conversation on the phone.” He stepped toward her. “I run…ran my own successful business. I just sold it, so I have time on my hands. And experience.” Hadn’t the guys said he needed to do something else to take his mind off his lack of direction? “I’m going to help you save the coffee shop.”
