Page 67 of The Backup Groom
I glanced up at the screen for the next order, pulled out the almond milk from below, and whistled as I prepared a Matrix Mocha.
Dean looked over at me. “What are you doing?”
I poured the milk into the frothing pitcher. “What does it look like?”
“Whistling.”
“And?”
“It’s weird. You never whistle.”
“Sure, I do.”
“Yeah? When was the last time?”
I thought about it, preferring to deflect. “When was the last time you got stuck in the refrigerator?” I gave him a big, toothy smile.
“Don’t go there,” he said, shivering. “I practically froze to death.”
“You were in there for five minutes.”
“I’ve got very thin skin,” Dean said.
“Remind me not to tease you about anything—especially about getting locked in the refrigerator.” I chuckled.
The bell over the front door dinged.
I cranked my head in that direction so quickly I almost got whiplash.
An older couple walked in and my shoulders slumped.
Dean looked over. “Relax, cowboy. Amber and Stella won’t get here for another three minutes.”
I glanced up at the clock.
He was right. They always came in at the same time every day, fifteen minutes before the top of the hour, since they went directly to work with their drinks.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t anxious, excited.
I was dying to see Amber, today more than ever.
And tonight would be the night that would change my life forever.
Our lives.
I finished preparing the drink, snapped a cover on it, and placed it on the counter. “I’ve got a Matrix Mocha for Abigail.”
She was busy talking on the phone, but mouthed athank you.
Dean whistled while he stocked the display case with croissants.
Like me, he never whistles.
“Not funny,” I said, sure he was making fun of me.
Dean grinned. “This is my cheerful whistle.” He was doing his usual barista dance, tossing the empty cup in the air to do a flip, then catching it and filling the cup with coffee.
He walked around me and set the drink on the counter. “Large Doomsday Drip for Jenna!” He turned back to me and grinned. “I’m going to ask Stella out on a date today.”
