Page 9 of Steeped In Problems

Daisy let out a high-pitched squeal. Kristy nudged the steam wand off, dumped spent grounds and nearly scalded her wrist in the process. Her hands were jittery. She had to steady them on the edge of the counter before she could even wipe away the spilled foam.

“Rough morning?” Rhonda asked, hovering by the register.

“Just...brain fog,” Kristy excused, voice thin.

Rhonda eyed her for a second, then shrugged and went back to counting bills. “If you drop a tray, yell ‘timber.’ It’s tradition.”

“Copy that,” Kristy told her boss with a fake salute.

A new ticket spit from the printer, and Kristy grumbled under her breath. The order was a monster: two drinks, one a venti latte with three add-ons, the other a “secret menu” monstrosity that was basically dessert in a cup. She knocked out the first, then set to work on the second.

She almost didn’t notice Tanner emerge from the back room. He was carrying a sheaf of invoices, scowling at the numbers like he could burn a hole in them with his eyeballs. Kristy could tell from the lines on his face that the day wasn’t improving for him either.

He didn’t see her at first. She pivoted from Daisy with both finished drinks, one in each hand, and that’s when their trajectories collided.

He stepped left at the exact moment she spun from the bar. The world went slow, like an old movie. The top-heavy venti swung wild. Tanner tried to dodge, but Kristy’s wrist gave a nervous twitch, and the entire cup launched forward in an arcing splash of hot foam.

It hit him dead center, square in the chest, painting his dark shirt with a dramatic, frothy bullseye.

“Hey,” Tanner’s free hand shot up, but too late. The heat seeped in; the shirt stuck to his skin. He let out a hiss, dropped the paperwork on the floor, and tried to peel the cotton away from his chest.

Every customer in the shop looked up. Even Daisy seemed to go quiet for a half-second as if enjoying the chaos.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I am SO sorry,” Kristy sputtered out, grabbing at a stack of napkins. She skidded around the bar, eyes locked on the sopping mess she’d made of his shirt. “Are you burned? Let me…let me get ice or?—”

Tanner’s face was pure murder for about a second and a half, but then something shifted. Maybe it was the way Kristy hovered, napkins fluttering, or the way her hands wouldn’t stop shaking even after the danger had passed.

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he grunted, dabbing at the wet patch. “Doesn’t even sting.”

Kristy tried to mop up the spill, but every napkin she touched turned to pulp. She was so mortified that she didn’t even care that her own apron was now spattered in someone else’s coffee.

“Seriously, you’re bleeding,” she blurted, pointing to a faint pink on his forearm.

He looked, then gave a derisive snort. “That’s a scratch. You should see what Daisy did to my knuckle last week.”

Kristy almost laughed, but the shake in her hands wouldn’t stop. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t watching. I had...a lot on my mind.”

“Things happen. I know that better than anyone.” Tanner looked right at her, and this time, his expression wasn’t angry. Just...concerned, in a way she hadn’t seen before. It caught her off guard, and she wasn’t sure what to make of the softer side he revealed. But as soon as it came, it went, disappearing behind his normal grumpy exterior. He pressed the napkins against his chest, then jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Take five, Howard. I’ll handle the bar.”

She wanted to object. She wanted to say, “I’m fine,” but the words stuck.

Instead, she nodded, stashed her hands in her pockets to hide the tremor, and ducked toward the break room. She felt all eyes on her, even as she escaped down the short hallway. It was the same feeling she’d get leaving the trauma bay after a failed code: hot, hollow, and visible.

She leaned against the wall, letting the cool paint bleed through her shirt. She listened to the distant hiss of Daisy, thethunk of the cash drawer, and the muted laughter from Rhonda up front.

Through the window in the door, she watched Tanner still blotting his soaked shirt and surrounding area. He looked more irritated by the mess than the burn.

Kristy wondered if she’d just become the new shop legend. The nurse who couldn’t handle a coffee rush. The ex-healer who broke things instead of fixing them.

She wiped her palms on her pants and tried to pull herself together.

When she finally returned to the floor, the mess was gone. No trace of foam on the bar and no drip on the register. Tanner was back behind the counter, clean shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked. “You good?” he asked, voice lower than before.

Kristy nodded, picking up a rag and joining him at the counter, hands finally steady. “I will be.”

There was an art to ignoring someone while sharing a workspace the size of a walk-in closet. Kristy did her best to master it in her new environment. She measured espresso, steamed milk, and even sprinkled cinnamon on the cappuccinos—anything to keep from meeting Tanner’s eyes. The air between them felt charged, static from the earlier accident prickling up the back of her neck.

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