Page 30 of Steeped In Problems

That was it. Tanner's patience snapped like an overstretched elastic band. He pointed to the exit and stated firmly, “I think you need to leave now.”

Mark glared for several seconds before finally saying, “Fine,” Mark spat out. “This place is doomed anyway.”

He stalked off, throwing glares over his shoulder until he disappeared around a corner.

Tanner turned back to Kristy and the mess left behind; her face was pale but composed.

“I’m sorry about that,” Kristy murmured as she began picking up the scattered pieces of pastry.

Tanner shook his head slightly as if clearing it. “It’s not your fault he’s...like that. Let's just focus on finishing the bake sale.”

The rest of the bake sale went off without a hitch. When all was said and done, they cleared a thousand dollars. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was still a step in the right direction.

As they wiped down the last surfaces and locked up the cash drawer, Kristy’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and whooped loud enough to make Emily look up from her laptop.

“It’s Nurse Gomez,” Kristy said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “She got us permission to do free samples in the hospital break room. I can drop off a coffee carafe and a whole tray of scones first thing tomorrow.”

Tanner raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna to get that all done before tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll bake all night if I have to,” she declared, then shot him a thumbs-up. “This is huge. The nurses will push it to the docs, and the docs are the ones with cash. Trust me.”

He did. He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he did.

Emily closed her laptop and slid off the barstool. “I’ll get in early, too. We’ll need to restock the Brave Blend and set up the donation jar while finalizing plans for the car wash.”

Rhonda laughed, then made a show of stretching her arms overhead. “That’s enough for tonight, right? Even heroes need sleep.”

“We sure do,” Tanner agreed. “Including you, Kristy, so that means you better rest and worry about baking in the morning.”

She seemed like she wanted to argue with him, but instead, she simply nodded. “I’ll rest a couple of hours, I promise.”

Emily left first, assuring them that she would have the updated date when she returned. Rhonda followed next while Kristy lingered, counting off the last tasks under her breath, checking and re-checking everything. When there was finally nothing left to do, she headed to the door, pausing in the entryway to look back.

“You locking up?” she inquired with a tilt of her head.

Tanner nodded. “I’ll do a last walk. Make sure no one breaks in to steal the carafe.”

She laughed, causing her nose to crinkle in the most adorable way. Tanner did his best to ignore how it made his heart race as he watched her leave.

After making his rounds, Tanner turned off the last light, pocketed the keys, and stepped outside. Maybe the Brave Badge wasn’t just a stopgap between careers or a charity case waiting for the ax. Maybe, with the right people, it could be a special place that bonded the town together. And maybe, just maybe, with Kristy beside him, it could be a refuge for both of them.

Chapter Nine

The car wash day arrived with a sky so clear and the sun so bright it felt like the whole universe was rooting for them. Early Saturday morning, firefighters rolled up in their shiny trucks, hoses ready and grins wide as they parked in the Brave Badge parking lot. The pavement transformed into a sudsy stage for local heroes scrubbing down every car that lined up.

The turnout was impressive. Half the town seemed to have shown up, eager to get their cars washed by firefighters or just to support the cause. Kids ran through the spray of water, dogs barked happily from their owners' cars, and local news cameras rolled, capturing every moment.

There were at least twenty cars in line—some official vehicles, but mostly battered pickups and family minivans. And all of them were getting the most inefficient, spectacular, and community-driven wash of their lives.

Kristy went back to inspecting the line with her clipboard, thanking the drivers as they handed over crumpled bills and loose change. “Thanks for supporting the Brave Badge,” she called, waving to a mom in a black SUV whose three sons were yelling in the back seat.

The parking lot smelled like lemon cleaner, burnt espresso, and spring mud. Kristy liked how alive it felt—noisy, packed, every little moment vibrating with a new emergency to solve. The first responders, the retirees, the kids from the town’s soccer league—everyone was out today, drawn by the promise of free donuts and the vague threat of Rhonda’s super-secret surprise baked good, which, based on past trauma, Kristy suspected was just regular banana bread with a shot of rum.

She worked the crowd, placing new donation jars, chatting up the parents and old timers, and even making small talk with the brooding guy from the animal shelter who never smiled. “You got a dog in there, or just letting the cat hair accumulate?” she asked, pointing at the van. The guy blinked, then actually smiled, showing more teeth in one second than he had in the entire past month of morning drop-ins at the coffee shop.

Tanner hovered by the sidewalk, arms crossed over his blue Brave Badge shirt, looking like he was personally offended by how much water was being wasted. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but not his smirk—she saw him shake his head as a cluster of six-year-olds armed with tiny squeegees converged on a Jeep.

She liked that he was watching. She liked that he didn’t try to take over or micromanage the chaos. He just held the perimeter and let her run the show.

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