Page 16 of Trouble Me
“What size?”
“Large, please.”
Emma pulled a large cardboard cup out and began to fill it with the steaming liquid. “Cream or anything else?”
“Black, please.”
The butterflies continued to swirl in her belly. Her kind of guy. No, wait. What was she saying?
After securing the lid, Emma slid the cup across the counter with a smile. When Shane pulled out his wallet, she held up a hand. “First one's on the house. Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” Shane dropped a five-dollar bill into the tip jar. Emma raised a brow. The tip was more than the coffee cost.
A tendril of steam rose from the cup as he sipped. “Ah...You're right. That’s good.” He focused in on her for a moment before a smile touched his lips. “It appears I saved myself a phone call. Can we talk?”
Emma grinned and tilted her head. “I thought we were talking.”
Shane returned her grin and shook his head. “I mean alone.”
Emma swallowed hard at the way his “alone” came out in a low gravelly tone that sent chills down her spine. “Um, sure. Let me get Amelia. One sec.”
He nodded. “Sure, no problem.”
Emma hightailed it to the kitchen, where she ran smack into Amelia as she entered the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing?” Emma hissed. “Eavesdropping again?”
Amelia leaned around Emma, craning her neck to get a better look at Shane. “Damn, Em. He’s as gorgeous as I remember.”
Emma growled at her cousin. She was going to step on the top of her foot—Amelia’s weak spot—the next time they were alone. She grabbed Amelia’s wrist. “You need to go out there. He asked to talk to me,” Emma whispered frantically.
“I know. I was listening.”
Emma closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Yep, she was going to stomp hard. She shoved at Amelia. “So, go, I need to...look presentable, or something.”
“Alright, alright.” Amelia sailed through the door. “Hi, Shane. I don’t know if you remember me—” Before Amelia could finish, the bell on the front door chimed. “Good morning, Mrs. Casteel.”
Emma kicked her Chucks into gear and whipped off her apron, making tracks to the small restroom in the back. Facing her reflection, her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. She finger-combed her hair with trembling hands, almost pulling out a couple of strands when she hit a knot. “Ow, damn it. Of all the places to get coffee in this town, he had to walk into The Sweet Spot,” she muttered, rubbing flour off her check.
A light bulb came on in her head. “Lip gloss!” She rushed out of the bathroom and over to where her purse hung with her coat. After a hurried search and some cursing, she managed to unearth said lip gloss. She finished her primping in the small closet of a bathroom in under sixty seconds. The fact that her heart slammed against her chest had nothing to do with the man himself. It was just because she needed the job to save her family home. And by extension, her sobriety.
Keep telling yourself that, sweets,her libido taunted.
Shut up,her brain shot back.
Emma turned her head from side to side, analyzing her handiwork. “That’s as good as it gets.” She brushed off her shirt one last time, making sure there was no more flour making an appearance.
When she walked back out into the dining area, shrugging into her coat, she was greeted by the sight of Shane holding open the front door for Mrs. Casteel, who, for nearing ninety years old, moved pretty damn well. Rooted to the spot, Emma crossed her arms over her chest, intrigued by the sight in front of her.
He gave the elderly woman a genuine smile as she stopped and lay a liver-spotted, gnarled hand on his arm. Emma’s heart softened at how adorable she was in her mint-green jumpsuit with matching tennis shoes, carrying a pale pink box in one hand.
“My stars, you have one of the prettiest smiles I’ve ever seen on a man,” Mrs. Casteel said to Shane.
Emma’s eyes widened. Was he blushing? “Thank you, ma’am. Happy birthday.”
The older lady giggled like a schoolgirl. “Thank you. Goodness, you're handsome.” She sighed. “I have to go to my bridge game. Hope to see you again, blue eyes.”
He shut the door behind her and turned, stopping when he found she and Amelia were watching him. “What?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “She reminds me of my grandmother.”
