Page 14 of There’s Trouble Brewing

“You’re missing quite the spectacle out there,” she told him, an edge of amusement in her voice. “You sure you don’t want to watch? It’s a madhouse out there.”

But his look silenced her. Emily took in the shadows under his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders. He was rawaround the edges, not the easygoing charmer who flirted without trying. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to check it out. Besides, you handle all of that better than I do anyway.”

The makeshift desk was cluttered with old invoices, a half-empty cup of coffee, and ink-stained paper. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered.

Mark sighed, his hands retreating from the keys as if conceding defeat. “Not unless you can figure out how to get this report to cooperate.”

“Here, let me take a look.” Emily reached across the desk, but before she could check out the software, she knocked over the cup of coffee.

They both reached to catch the falling cup and grabbed it at the same time. The incidental brush of their hands left Emily breathless and light-headed like she’d just done laps around the room. The world outside faded, as did the shop and the town and the gossip. All of it dimmed, like a house falling into darkness when the power went out.

Mark exhaled; a sound that carried more weight than words. “You here to get me out of this?” he asked, a soft jest to mask his vulnerability.

“Someone has to,” she gently teased, holding his gaze, daring herself not to look away.

He chuckled, a warm and tentative sound that wound its way around her. Emily sat next to him, her presence a quiet comfort, or at least she hoped so. Their proximity made it hard to concentrate. Her focus drifted from the screen to the way he watched her, a quick sideways glance that never quite returned to the laptop.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and endearing. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Emily shook her head. “That’s because it’s worse, but Ican help with that. Michelle actually used this same system back in Hero, so I’m familiar with it.”

His face relaxed, the tension turning into something lighter. The air between them was like a living thing, swelling with possibility.

“Here, let me take a look at what the problem is.” She reached over to take control of the laptop, causing their arms to brush against each other’s in the process. There was a jolt of electricity that surged through her, and it knocked her off balance. She felt the warmth of his skin and the rapid tempo of her own pulse.

The laptop remained between them, forgotten, as Emily found herself closer than before. Closer than she’d meant to be. Mark’s hand lingered, unsure whether to pull back or hold on.

She was acutely aware of him, the shape of his resolve and uncertainty. He was breathing, and she was breathing, and the quiet room filled with the sound of both.

Mark’s eyes were on her, and a question reflected in them, a wordless something she didn’t know how to answer. He shifted, his gaze flicking to her lips, then back to her eyes. It was a question and a confession, and Emily felt the ground slip away beneath her. She wondered if he would kiss her, if he even wanted to, or if the risk was worth the fallout. She wondered if she could stand it if he didn’t.

The tremble in his hands was gone, but she felt it in the air, in the connection between them. It moved through her like a current, reckless and inviting all at the same time. And then the moment shattered with a shout.

“Mark,” came a loud voice, urgent and deep. “Mark Merlot, you in here?”

They pulled back like two stars escaping collision. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it in the process.

Emily caught her breath and felt the walls rush back in, the world resumed its indifferent spinning.

“Mark, you need to get out here so I can tell you the good news,” the voice insisted, closer now. “Your heroics deserve recognition.”

Emily took a breath, and this time, it hurt a little. But she smiled, nodding toward the open door. “We should probably go see who that is.”

They were barely back in the main room of the coffee shop when the mayor came barging toward them, all loud intentions and nowhere to sit. He wore a suit that Emily suspected cost more than her weekly paycheck, and his tie fluttered like a patriotic flag.

“Mark,” he boomed, eyes sweeping the small room, “I came here to tell you that we’re honoring you at the town festival for what you did for my daughter-in-law’s nephew.”

Emily watched Mark absorb the words for several seconds before he shook his head. “I don’t want that,” he murmured, but the mayor wasn’t listening.

His attention skipped to her, eager to land where it could be appreciated. “And we’re featuring Brave Badge coffee,” he said, in the voice of a man who wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Emily could tell that Mark didn’t like the situation, but she knew it would be good for the coffee shop. “You shouldn’t pass up this opportunity to promote the Brave Badge,” she told Mark.

After a few seconds, Mark let out a heavy sigh with an expression full of hesitation. “I suppose for the coffee shop,” he finally uttered reluctantly, but he didn’t sound fully convinced.

“Your bravery saved a child’s life, and that should be celebrated.” The mayor’s words were loud and final, more decree than compliment.

Emily stole a glance at Mark, her curiosity piqued as she tried to decipher what he was thinking about. His gaze was anchored to a scuff mark on the tile floor as if this small imperfection could save him from the awkward situation.

---