Page 29 of Mistletoe Latte

“Sure.” Emma had to slip around him, Nick already ripping open one bag and rolling the excess burlap down to expose the beans. Stacks of cardboard boxes stood in the way, but she spotted a metal cylinder. Emma squirmed around two shelves and reached for the canister shoved against machinery covered in a tarp.

“So…what do you like?”

Emma’s fingers scraped straight down the can, and she looked back to the man exertion-sweating from carrying three hundred pounds worth of coffee beans like they were pillows.Don’t say gruff cafe owners.“In?” she asked.

“Cooking. You said something about desserts but also veggies and…”

“Ah.” She was silly for thinking he’d want to know what she found hot. “I prefer to work in chocolate. In my intern days, I got to help make chocolate sculptures for fancy hotels and weddings. There were so many swans.”

“Because marriage is just like a large, angry bird that can break a man’s arm. Well, come to think of it…”

Emma put on a smile at the familiar dismissal. She knew she couldn’t make elaborate chocolate sculptures all the time, but most people…most men found it completely worthless.

“Did you find the can?”

“Yes. Sorry. Working on it right now.” She got a hold on the handle and tugged the quarter-filled canister forward. Except a rivet must have snagged on the tarp, as it yanked off whatever it was protecting. “Oh my goodness. Is this a…?” A commercial oven and smaller deep fryer sat against the wall, both as pristine as the day they were made.

“Hm?”

Emma jumped as Nick’s head, then the rest of him appeared in the narrow gap between shelves. He had to stand in an awkward position to fit, his stomach sucked in and one leg on the shelf. He looked to her hands, then slowly trailed the fallen tarp up to the hidden bakery. “Oh. Those.”

“This is a nice oven.” Not as big as the one she’d used back in Portland, but surprising for a small cafe that seemed to only sell hot drinks. Instinctively, Emma pulled on the oven’s door handle. It didn’t plummet but slowly descended, and she shivered at the idea of baking in a near virginal oven. “Does it work?”

“It should. I think the gas is still hooked up ‘cause getting it capped would have cost more.”

“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you aren’t using it.”

Her glee faded at a note of dread in his tone. Nick wasn’t looking at the oven like a long-lost treasure but with a wary eye. Slowly, she closed the door and pulled the tarp off the bolt that’d caught it.

“The original plan was to do food in-house. My partner…” Nick winced and ducked away. “Thought of it.”

“Your business partner was the baker?”

“Eh. I wouldn’t go that far. But that didn’t work out, so I tried bringing in food.”

Emma frowned thinking back on her frostbitten donut. While it was edible, she couldn’t imagine trying to sell that while there was a perfect fryer right here. “You know, I could… I’d be more than happy to make something for the cafe. Donuts, or pastries. Cake pops, people love those.”

He shook his head hard as if he wanted to wash his hands of the whole thing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. People are used to what’s on the menu. Best to not.”

“Oh…” She hid her disappointment and put on a smile. “Of course.”

“Here.” Nick picked up the canister and slipped out through the gap. After giving one last pat to the oven, Emma tossed the tarp over the potential of fresh pastries and donuts.

The sound of the can dragging across the floor was followed by a sifting tumble of beans. Emma eased through the gap to find Nick dropping a bucket into the giant bag of new beans to transfer them into the can. “You know, this part’s…I was gonna say easy. Okay, it’s easy but tedious. You can go do whatever. Do you need a break? That’s a thing people do. Take breaks.”

He had both his sleeves rolled up, revealing the veins on his forearms sweeping around the rising muscles. The hot burn of his blue eyes landed on her and Emma scrambled. “It’ll go faster if I help.” She found a giant measuring cup and used that to scoop up the beans.

At first, they scooped and dumped in silence, only the assuring shush-shush of falling coffee beans filling the air. “Since you’re gonna be staying the week, I should probably do the paperwork. Don’t want the government coming after you.”

“Right. Yes. That’s a good point.”

“And I’m realizing I don’t even know your name. The full one. For the paperwork and all.”

“Emma Belmont.”

Nick grinned. “That’s a pretty name.”

“I think my family paid to get a crest in Scotland once,” she said out of hand.

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