Page 8 of Mistletoe Latte

CHAPTER FOUR

“EXCUSE ME, SIR!” Emma picked up a scarf that had slithered out of the customer’s coat. He patted his pockets even as she handed it back to him.

“You’ve got quite the eye, Miss,” he said after taking it back. Winding the scarf around his neck, the last customer slipped out the door. Emma used the momentary break to check her phone. It was nearly three and there was no sign of the mechanic.

“Next time you should keep it.”

She jumped at the voice behind her ear. Spinning on her heels she came face to face with Nick. Emma placed a calming hand to her chest and pulled in a breath. “Isn’t that stealing?”

Nick shrugged. “Nine-tenths of the law. How do you think I was able to pay for this place?”

His entire demeanor was dead serious, leaving Emma uncertain how to respond. Nick bent over to pick up a brooch that must have tumbled under the table. “See,” he said. Emma was about to reach to take it back when he turned and placed the jewelry in a lost and found box. For a brief moment, the edge of his lips lifted in a smile, and she pulled in a sigh. Laughing under her breath, Emma plucked up a spray bottle and spritzed the table.

“You mind if I ask what other restaurants you’ve worked at?”

It was the first question he’d directed at her since her folly with the bell. She glanced up to watch him carefully place mugs upside down on the espresso machine. “I don’t mind. I was a hostess for a steak joint.”

“Fancy.” He whistled as if her being trained to carry menus, defuse angry customers, and fill out reservations required SEAL team level training.

“And a waitress at a diner during most of school.”

“Not a barista though? I’m surprised. You took to this like a fish addicted to caffeine.”

Modesty mingled with a growing flush, and she cast her gaze down to focus on the handful of crumbs. “There was an espresso machine at the restaurant where I was a—”

The bell jangled, stopping their conversation dead. Both looked to the new customer, a teen girl staring upward. “You fixed it. Since when do you fix anything?” she asked Nick while tossing her book bag to the ground. It struck with a loud thud, and she massaged her shoulder.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Nick said and Emma’s heart crumbled. She was only trying to be helpful but shouldn’t have overstepped her bounds.

The teenage girl squinted at her from across the room. “You hired someone. Great! Guess you won’t be needing me to help close…” She hauled her bag up, but Nick caught it and laughed.

“Nice try. Emma’s just here for the day. And she’s dealt with enough riffraff today without you adding to it.”

“Riffraff?” the girl repeated. “How old are you?”

With a shake of his head, Nick said, “Emma, this is Skylar. Skylar, don’t drown her in your sass.”

“I’ll save all my sass for you!” Skylar said with a smirk as she saluted.

Nick groaned at the teenage ribbing, then he pointed to Skylar’s shirt. Instead of the same midriff-baring blouse from before, a plaid flannel covered her chest. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Skylar scoffed. “This isn’t a nudist coffee shop.”

“Uh-huh. School make you put that on?”

“No, I wanted to. That damn place is freezing all the time. I swear it’s older than you.”

Nick smiled wide as if he’d won a game of chess. “Maybe you should have thought of that before heading out half-naked in December.”

Her response was a dramatic eye roll and a shove against his chest. Skylar stomped for the back room, but before going she looked to Emma. “How can you stand him?”

“It’s not that hard when she’s actually pleasant to work with, unlike someone I can name,” Nick shouted in the direction of the swinging door. As it made one last rotation a hand with a raised middle finger shot out before Skylar vanished.

Emma did not want to get in the middle of this teenage rebellion. She remembered the chaffing yoke of her parents but had also spent years of her life cleaning up after kids that thought stacking cups filled with ketchup and syrup was cool. Bowing her head, she focused on the last of the trash left by the windows when the bell rang again.

“Daryl, the usual?”

“Nah, I’m looking for a woman. Name of Emma.”

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