Page 37 of Coffee Shop Girl
A lump filled my throat. There were still hospital bills and funeral expenses to pay off, too, but I didn’t tell him that. Maybe they’d disappear. Maybe I had an unknown relative about to die. Maverick leaned back in the chair, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. We’d been sitting here for three hours.
“Let’s take a break from numbers and focus on processes.” He stretched his long, corded arms overhead. Out of the corner of my eye, I appreciated the elongation of his torso. How did shoulders get that wide, anyway?
“Sure.”
“Mind if we go behind the counter?”
“Not at all.”
I jumped to my feet, relieved to be away from the financial prison Dad had built. Of course, he never would have done any of this if he’d known. Known how short his time would be. Known he’d be leaving me with a disaster ... and then some.
“Would you like the official tour?” I asked. “It’s not much, but then you can see what machines we have and what we can offer.” My nose wrinkled. “Assets, would you call them?”
A quick smile lit up his face.
“Assets, indeed.”
Ellie watched us from the hallway, tossing a bouncy ball back and forth between her hands. Quickly, I described the different machines, the fridge, the storage in the back, the cleaning supplies, the broken ice machine that didn’t make ice, but at least kept it cold, and the cash register. It didn’t take long. He took it all in smoothly, seeming none the worse for wear despite our hours of misery.
Finally, we stopped. He stood with his arms crossed. I kept my eyes on his face, then realized that wouldn’t help, and looked at the spot behind his right shoulder.
“You mentioned not having an operations manual before,” he said. “So, how did you teach your employee to work the machines?”
I shrugged. “Just ... taught them. Showed them how. Want me to teach you?”
My voice perked up a bit, unintentionally, like this was a game. In truth, I loved talking to people. Overseeing a task from beginning to end and creating a product. Only I wanted this on a bigger scale. Houses instead of cappuccinos. Lifestyle and decor instead of coffee and pastries.
And, if I were being totally honest with myself, I wanted him to see me in a moment of doing something well. My life in front of him had been one failure after another. Not that it should have mattered.
But it did.
Maverick lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes,” he drawled. His tone suggested he was testing me. He leaned back against the counter, eyes bright. “I would love to learn your espresso machine, but I’m a terrible visual learner. Before I can be hands-on, I need to see it written down so I can process it.”
I frowned. “Then this is going to be a difficult working relationship.”
He shrugged. “You own this place, right? You take responsibility for all aspects of it. You’ve hired me, so now you have to deal with the situation.”
Another test.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true ... but maybe I just needed to have better questions in the interview process.”
He tilted his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound. Lizbeth perked up. Ellie stopped throwing the ball to pay attention.
I tried to ignore the sparks shooting all the way down my spine and into my toes.
“Nice try.” He leaned back. “If I’m better studying in words first, it’s in the best interest of your company to provide that. Otherwise, I may burn myself and hold you accountable, saying I didn’t have appropriate training suited to my needs.”
“That’s a risk regardless of training,” I shot back like a power-debater. “And you’ll have to do it, eventually. That is the purpose of the job.”
“But if I don’t feel adequately prepared, that means my safety is in question.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. Maybe I wasn’t the linguistic powerhouse I imagined myself to be. He had me there.
“If you haven’t provided training in a way I can understand, and I get burned or worse, you’re responsible for covering my medical bills.”
My eyes widened. “Shut up!”
