Page 27 of Mistletoe Latte

“Uh, yeah…” When was the last time Skylar put her skates on? It couldn’t have been last…no, two years ago. Nick frowned. “Sounds good,” he mumbled, focusing on his niece.

As Mrs. Wilkins sipped her drink, Skylar and her friend chatted together. There’d once been a time when she’d have told him all about a skating party. What else was he missing?

“Skylar?” He called to her while glancing at the calendar.

“Yeah?”

“It’s delivery day. I need you to come to the cafe right after school.”

Her shoulders slumped and she groaned. “Are you serious?”

“We could get pizza after…?”

“I’m going dress shopping with Addy. Remember?”

Nick scratched his head, his thoughts fuzzy. “But I need you here to help.” Without another pair of hands, the delivery guy was as likely to leave their stock in the parking lot.

Skylar crossed her arms. “I asked you like a week ago and you said it was fine. Or do you want me to go to the dance naked?”

He winced at the threat and shook his head. “Don’t even…that’s not funny. Fine. Get your dress, then get back here as fast as possible.”

“You know.” Skylar reached over the counter for her book bag. When it landed with a heavy thud, she stared him right in the eye. “You’re not alone anymore.” With a deliberate swivel, she directed him to the young woman pushing a pencil behind her ear. A strand of her chestnut hair had slipped out of her ponytail and kept brushing against her slender neck.

“Eh?”

He clenched his hands, shaking off the thought of curling her hair around them, and caught his niece bouncing her eyebrows. “Get your ass to school,” he growled.

CHAPTER TEN

THE DAY WENT quicker than the last one. When the customers had died down, Nick had called her over to teach her how to use the espresso machine. There’d been so many cycles, Emma had to jot them down next to her half recipes. Then he’d stepped back and left her to try.

She’d feared it would be a disaster, but when the first cup came out dark and rich, the liquid stopping right at eight ounces, Emma danced in a circle. Nick snickered and lifted the cappuccino. “Do you get this excited about everything?” He ripped open two packets of sugar and dumped them into the mug followed by the cream.

“What’s wrong with celebrating?” Emma asked slowly drinking the fruits of her labor. “Maybe you should do a little dance every time you finish a cup.”

“I’d probably lose ten pounds.” He slapped his stomach which only resounded with a hard thud of muscle.

Lowering her lashes, Emma tried to focus on the coffee percolating from the system and not the flush running through her body. The scent of sandalwood drifted off her hair. It’d followed her the whole day thanks to his pillows, causing her to blush every time she smelled it.

“Can you see me dancing?” Nick asked. He pulled the order tickets and tossed them into a box under the counter.

“Only if it’s the apocalypse,” Sam quipped, then cracked a smile.

Emma shooed him away. “I bet you dance wonderfully.”

“Ha, sure.” Nick crumpled a receipt and turned to her. “Wait until I break a toe and smack your stomach with my elbow.”

They stood so close when he swung his arm around it nearly brushed her waist. Nick held onto the menu board and leaned down. She shifted on her toes, doing a small jig in a tiny square. He swayed back and forth with just his hips, the two of them proto-dancing together.He raised his hand…for where? To hold my shoulder? Take my hand? Or cup my waist?

The spoon in her mug rattled like a grasshopper. She moved to catch it when Nick took the whole cup and saucer. “Sounds like the delivery’s here. And no Skylar, of course. Are you up for moving sacks of coffee beans?”

“No problem,” Emma said. He placed her half-full coffee on the counter and a cold breeze blew between them. She wanted to call it common sense. He was her boss, sort of, and she’d be leaving in a week. Doing anything to mess that up would be the dumbest thing she’d done in, oh, five days.

“Usually I lock the front when taking a delivery, but…” Nick pointed to the old man happily jotting down a case of a missing cat found in the owner’s bedroom. “Sam, can you mind the fort?”

“Not a problem!” he said.

As Emma walked with him to the back, Nick explained, “We get in a hundred-pound bags…”

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