Page 15 of Steeped In Problems

“Have a nice day,” she managed.

Mark gave a little nod and drifted to a table in the far corner, where he opened his laptop and began typing immediately like he had a report due on her performance.

Tanner waited until Mark was out of earshot, then slid over to her side of the bar, close but not too close.

“You okay?” he asked, voice pitched low.

She nodded, “I’m fine,” but it was a lie, and she knew he could see it.

He let it go, for now, but she caught the look in his eyes—full cop mode, analyzing, cataloging, ready to step in if things got worse.

Kristy took a deep breath, smoothed her apron, and got back to work. But the sunshine in her day was gone, replaced by the heavy clouds she thought she’d left firmly in her past.

Mark didn’t stay at his table. That would have been too easy. Instead, he got up after a few minutes—just long enough to make a show of reviewing emails—and sauntered back toward the counter with the deliberate nonchalance of a man who needed everyone to notice how little he cared.

Kristy was busy with a regular, pouring a cortado and chatting about the city council’s latest attempt to ban drive-throughs. She tried to focus, but Mark’s shadow was already stretching across her workspace.

“So, Kris,” Mark started, voice a shade louder than necessary. “Is this a permanent thing, or are you just playing coffee shop worker until you go back to your real job as a nurse?”

The regulars glanced up, startled, but Kristy just pasted on her customer-service smile. “Can I help you with something, Mark?”

He leaned over the counter, forearms splayed, crowding the display case and Kristy along with it. “Just making conversation. When I found out you weren’t at your old job, I figured maybe the hospital cut staff, but...well, it turns out you quit.”

She swallowed, not liking how her throat clenched. “I needed a change. It’s been good for me.”

Mark smirked, and for a second, she remembered every stupid fight they’d had, how he could turn even an apology into a contest. “If you say so. Personally, I always pictured you running a trauma ward by now. Guess you don’t always meet expectations, huh?”

A flash of anger spiked through her, but she refused to let it show. “Can I get you a pastry or something?”

He didn’t answer. Just let his gaze drift up and down the menu, making a performance of it. “You know what, I’ll try something new. I hear the lemon loaf is great here.”

“Coming right up,” she said, voice tight.

Mark clapped his hands together like he’d just closed a big deal. “That’s what I like to hear.” He didn’t leave, though. He just stood there, watching her with his beady eyes, picking at every movement with a running commentary.

“You want to make sure to give me a big piece. Don’t be stingy,” he ordered. “And I want it on a plate, not one of those paper sacks.”

She tried to ignore him, but her hands betrayed her—a tremor she couldn’t control, causing a slight slip that sent the lemon loaf slicing unevenly. "Of course," Kristy managed, voice clipped.

As she worked to arrange the disproportionately cut piece on a ceramic plate, it tumbled back onto the countertop.

“Careful,” Mark said, his voice laced with faux concern. “Wouldn't want to waste good food.”

Kristy gritted her teeth, picked up the lemon loaf again, more carefully this time, and placed it on a plate. She slid it across the counter toward him. "Here you go," she forced out through a clenched jaw.

Mark took the plate, still smirking. "Thanks, Kris. You always were good at following instructions."

Her cheeks burned at the comment, a mixture of embarrassment and rising anger heating her face.

“But you missed some crumbs on the counter. Here, let me show you.” Mark reached toward her, and she jerked back out of reflex.

That’s when Tanner stepped up beside her. “You need anything else, or are you about done here?” Tanner asked, deadpan.

Mark sized him up, then gave a fake smile. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I know Kris from way back—she’s good, but sometimes her head gets ahead of her hands.”

Tanner didn’t even blink. “She’s the best we’ve got. And we like our customers to keep their hands on their own side of the counter.”

Mark looked around as if hoping for backup, but the regulars were now openly watching, and even the toddlers’ mom was eavesdropping from the muffin zone.

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