Page 81 of Working for the Mob

“It’s breathtaking,” I added.

“Do you have anything for me today, ladies?” Mrs. Jenkins asked, her eyes locking on mine longer than they used to. Her smile, which used to look out of place, warmed the cold café.

“Yes,” I said, and took out a loaf of bread Lucy baked the night before. “Fresh as always.”

“You have a gift, child,” Mrs. Jenkins said to Lucy with a fondness in her voice. She took her bread. “But that’s not what I was referring to. Jamie. What news do you have of Jamie?”

“He is doing better,” I said. “Cissy promised us she would bring him by as soon as he’s out of the hospital.”

“If his injuries are as bad as everyone is saying, you’re going to be running this café for quite a while,” she said, and I gulped. She could be right, but I didn’t want to believe it. Could I manage the café for that long?

“Did you save me a scone?” she asked, and glared at Lucy. “I heard they were the most heavenly piece of bread out there.”

Lucy blushed. “I didn’t, Mrs. Jenkins. We sold out this morning.”

“I expect two tomorrow,” she warned.

“Of course.” Lucy laughed.

“Can I have a corned beef sandwich and a coffee?”

“I’m sorry,” I butted in. “We don’t have corned beef today. But we got in a great batch of ham.”

“I’ll take it,” Mrs. Jenkins said.

I wrote down the order and handed it to Art in the back. “Order in. You think you can handle it?”

Art’s sly smile sent a shiver down my spine. Was he reliving our latest venture in his head, just like I was? “I’m not sure. What will happen if I can’t?”

“I’ll have you stripped down and brought to me in handcuffs,” I said, more confidently than I felt. Why did my face flush after saying that? The man’s mouth was full of my nipples less than an hour ago.

“Poor Mrs. Jenkins is never going to get her order.” He leaned in until the tips of our noses almost touched and my heart raced.

“Pity,” I said, and pulled away, which felt like being dunked in an ice bath.

I can’t be seen flirting on the first day.

The lunch rush flew by in a haze of sandwiches and coffee. Once Lucy locked the door to close at two, I found myself sitting in a chair, massaging my sore feet.

Art walked out from the back, drying his hands with a towel he left on the counter. I’d have to clean that up later.

“You’ve really got a knack for the managing thing,” he said, and I glowed on the inside. “I’ve got to finish things up at the office. I’ve been away too long.”

“Thanks for your help today,” I said, while Lucy went to the register to count the money.

“You too.” And he walked into the cold.

I barely returned to my food before Lucy threw the change back in the drawer and squealed. “You two did it again, didn’t you?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but Lucy squealed again. “I knew it! You came back with that flush in your cheeks and your hair in disarray.”

“My hair is not in disarray,” I said, but Lucy didn’t want to hear it. Her smug smile said she knew everything she wanted to know.

“Where was it? Did he take you back to his place or did you do it in our room again?”

“Lucy,” I reprimanded. “This is not appropriate for the workplace.”

“You did it in the workplace? You mean here? In the backroom?”

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