Page 24 of Daily Grind
Brian put both hands on the counter, mostly to keep from falling over. Had he not been sitting, he’d probably be on his knees.
Wicked mouth, wicked smile. As if that had been the most natural act in the world, Rob continued the conversation. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’d he leave?”
“I—” He’d been a dick. “I’ve been letting my stress show.”
Rob raised the cup again, but didn’t drink. “Then obviously you need a day off.”
“But—”
“When was the last time you spent an entire day out of this shop? Let your employees run things without you?” Now he drank and Brian watched those lips touch ceramic. Rob raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t remember.” A month ago? No. Longer. Holy shit. No wonder he was losing it.
Rob set the cup down and it clinked against the saucer. “Look, even the boss needs a break. Trust me on that. Nothing will kill your business faster than running yourself into the ground.”
That lit a different fire in his gut. “I know how to run my shop.” It came out low and harsh.
Rob tented his hands, his smile gone, and said nothing at all.
The fear, anger, and worry flooded back in, drowning out the minuscule amount of joy he’d found. On some level, Rob wasright. But taking time off wouldn’t pay his bills or find him new baristas.
He raked his hands through his hair. “What do you want me to do?” That, too, came out harder than he’d intended.
A shrug. “Let me help you relax.” Rob sipped his coffee around a very sly smile.
Of course customers chose that moment to walk in. Brian got up, his heart and head spinning, and made his way to the sink to wash his hands. By the time he was done, the group that had entered was ready to order.
Thank goodness the drinks were simple—three plain coffees and three cookies to go. The floor under his feet didn’t feel right. His head hurt. Everything ached.
Hedidneed a day off. Sunday Miranda was working, and then Mark. Two of his best—they would keep the shop humming.
Once he was sure no customers needed him, he slid back onto the stool in front of Rob. “Okay. You win.”
That earned him a smile. “So I’ve heard about this place—it’s an abandoned steel mill and there’s been a lot of work to preserve the site— Shit. I’ve forgotten the name.”
“Carrie Furnace?” It was part of the old Homestead Steel Mill and a heritage site.
“Yes, that’s it. Apparently, there are tours.”
There were. There’d been some great events there—that Brian had missed due to work. The dagger edges of worry and fear vanished. “I’ve heard good things.” It would be right up Rob’s alley, given his skill with a camera. “You’ll get some great shots.”
“That’s the idea.” He peered over his shoulder. “Assuming the weather is better.”
“I don’t know—storm shots in old industry? Could be sexy.” As was a drenched Rob. The rain had curled his hair into rings of red that Brian itched to run his hands through.
Rob finished his coffee. “I’m not keen on ruining my camera, though.”
“Get some rain gear for it.” He paused. “Maybe I can help you with that.”
“Let’s make a pact. You help me with photography and I’ll help you stay sane.” Rob held out his hand.
Brian grasped it and shook. “It’s a date.”
“Second one.” The devil’s grin went straight to Brian’s balls.
“You”—he dropped his voice to a whisper—“meant what you said last night?”
“Every single word.” Rob tilted his head. “Consider it part of keeping you sane.”
