Page 48 of Mother Parker
“Oh, shoot. The delivery is here. Give me half an hour to put it away, and then we can start training,” I said.
Parker shook his head, put his coffee cup down, and brushed a hand past my shoulder.
“Let me take care of this. Do what you need to do,” he said.
“I can help.”
“Didn’t you say you were going to make samples today?” he asked.
I did. I had said that. I was surprised he remembered. I didn’t even know if he paid attention when I talked. He was a man of few words, so I wasn’t sure if my bubbly personality was welcome or just noise for him.
“Y-yeah,” I said. “But that can wait.”
“I can take care of the delivery. You need the customers, don’t you? So let me take care of it. Unless you don’t trust me to—”
“Of course I trust you,” I told him.
He’d given me no reason not to. And all the cues suggested he was scared of making a mistake.
I wondered, for the hundredth time since I’d met him, what had happened in his life. He hadn’t told anyone why he gave up his life as a SEAL or why his marriage had broken down. I wondered if that was the reason for his insecurity.
“I just don’t want to burden you with this stuff, but if you want to do it, go ahead. I hate lugging those boxes of tapioca anyway, so be my guest and put those muscles to good use.”
He nodded and turned to go outside and greet the delivery driver.
“I’ll make us some bubble tea for when you’re done,” I shouted after him.
“Of course you will,” he muttered as he wedged open the door so customers knew we were officially ready for business.
I raised an eyebrow and watched him interact with the courier. He’d been so sweet today. He got new flowers without even asking me, offered to deal with the delivery, and finally admitted why he hadn’t been making coffee at the café.
Granted, we didn’t make much by way of coffee since bubble tea was my unique selling point, and I’d dealt with the few orders we had gotten. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to train him on coffeemaking.
If I wasn’t determined to find the flavor to make him crack before, then I was now.
He might look and act tough, but he was a softie. That much was clear.
So with that in mind, and considering all the previous teas I’d made for him, I got to work. When he was done accepting the delivery and checking the items off the invoice, I put a cup in front of his face.
“Here, try this,” I said.
The straw smacked his nose, and he grimaced—surprise, surprise.
“I told you I don't like this shit.”
I see we’ve gone back to the tough-boy act, huh?
“That's why I'm not asking you to tryshit. I'm asking you to try bubble tea. Now do it before I sneak into your house while you're sleeping and dye your beard pink like my hair,” I threatened. Although now that I’d said it, Isooowanted to do it.
“Fine,” Parker grumbled, grabbed the cup from me, and pinched the straw with his teeth.
He took two sips and tried to pass me the cup, but I put my hands behind my back and cocked my head waiting for his response.
“And?” I asked when he didn't offer me one.
“It's fine,” he huffed.
I raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”
