Page 9 of Daily Grind
Her shoulders dropped.
“I’d make you a manager if—” That was a sore point too, with all the baristas—no one worked quite the hours he needed for that. “Anyway, I apologize. That was a shitty thing for me to do.”
“Yeah, it was.” She grabbed a towel and set to wiping down the milk steamer. “You doing okay? I mean, aside from the Ethan thing? You seem… out of sorts.”
“Lots of hours,” he said. “That’s all.” No need to mention the drop in profits.
“Well, don’t kill yourself. We need you, too.”
“I know. It’ll right itself when I hire some new folks.”
Except he’d been saying that for how many months? Ethan was supposed to have helped fix the issue. And now? Brian washed his hands and headed back to his laptop.
He kept his own salary at the median of everyone else’s, mostly so he could see what a full payroll would run him. Made figuring out the money easier.
There was less each month. He’d been ignoring that fact because he threw his own overtime back into the pot.
The extra hours were wearing on him. Hiring more baristas, which he needed to do, would cut things tight if he kept or raised their pay.
He plopped down in front of the laptop, opened it, and sliced open another bill. He winced at the number. He’d figure it out. No one said any of this would be easy, even after years of running the shop.
Chapter Three
Another fine Saturday.Rob locked his bike up and headed down the street to Grounds N’at. The past week, the weather had been a mix of rain, wind, and chill, but the skies had finally cleared and spring warmth had returned. Perfect day for a bike ride.
He needed the exercise after the week he’d had in the office. Juggling customers, prospective customers, and releases during the same week never mixed well. Sales wanted one thing—or, rather, everything—and engineering knew they could deliver only a fraction. You had to be on your best behavior, meanwhile everyone was stressed trying to get the product out on time.
Made for some tense meetings at times.
But it was Saturday and all of that was hours behind him. He’d biked off all his stress climbing to Squirrel Hill from his house in Bloomfield. The “hill” part of the name was veryveryapt.
Right now, he wanted a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and another shot at flirting with Brian. Hopefully that lovely man was working today. He ought to have texted, but he enjoyed the element of surprise.
He pushed open the door, stripped off his sunglasses, and Brian was there, thank goodness. He wasn’t behind the counter though, but sitting at one of the tables, opposite a nervous-looking young man who had a balled-up napkin in front of him.
Brian’s arms were crossed and his expression was shuttered—though it opened a fraction when he met Rob’s gaze.
Brian raised his eyebrows, then focused on the young man.
A strange flare of heat rose in Rob’s chest before the situation made sense. Heknewthat look, in both the young man and in Brian. This was aninterview. Despite the surroundings, grilling a candidate was a universal thing.
Rather than bother Brian any more than he had by walking in the door, Rob strode to the counter and ordered a latte from the barista—a black man with tribal tattoos around his arms. He found a table about as far from Brian as he could get, but from where he could watch Brian’s back—and waited for him to finish.
A tiny regret for not texting, but he’d wanted to see what Brian did with his number. Couldn’t quite put his finger on the cause of the hesitations embedded in Brian’s flirtations. It was curious.
He liked a challenge, though.
Even though Rob couldn’t see Brian’s face, he knew from his tension and the posture that this particular candidate wasn’t impressing him. Rob studied the kid—couldn’t be much older than nineteen—and wondered what Brian saw that Rob didn’t.
Sure, he was young, but this was a coffee shop. Didn’t young people thrive in jobs like this? A supplemental income for college? Goodness knows, he’d done some odd jobs while at university. Working in a coffee shop would’ve been a blessing.
After ten minutes or so, Brian rose and shook the kid’s hand in a friendly way. The kid nodded, said something in response, then took off through the front door, the bell ringing in his wake.
Brian deflated once the kid was out of sight. For a few moments, he stared out the window, his hands on his hips, t-shirt stretching over those shoulders and across his trim back. The pose framed his arse beautifully.
So very nice. Rob shifted in his seat.
Brian swung around, scanning the shop until he found Rob. The smile that lit up Brian’s face was warm and inviting and tightened Rob’s chest, along with his dick.
