Page 32 of Mistletoe Latte

“Skylar?” The thick Italian accent floundered to the floor as the boy slipped out of line. “The girl that grinds the beans.”

Was that some kind of euphemism?Nick glared at his niece who only had eyes for the boy.

“H-h-hi, Antonio.”

“And you are…?” He focused away from Skylar to Nick and stuck out his hand.

Crossing his arms, Nick raised his chin. It unnerved him that the snot-nosed brat was nearly as tall as he was. What were they feeding kids? “I’m the slack-jawed American that can’t roast properly.”

“Ha. Of course, that is all Americans. You don’t understand un caffé.”

Nick’s ancient years spent in the Marines came railing back as he stared at this anti-American jackass. “I’m also Skylar’s uncle.” There was no reason to snap this toothpick in half to teach him a lesson. He looked like the wind would do him in.

“Ah, yes, I can see the resemblance,” the kid said.

Skylar full-palm slapped Nick on the arm. “Thanks!” she snarled at him before turning to Antonio. “You, uh, do you like coffee?”

Dear lord, that’s her opener?Nick knew he had nothing to fear, when the damn Italian reached over and whispered near her cheek, “I love it.”

Jail time be damned. Nick cracked his knuckles and calculated how quickly he could yank the snob off of his feet by his collar.

“I have a long-pull espresso to go.” Emma’s announcement pulled the kid away before Nick did anything stupid. He took his coffee with a jolly smile, pried off the lid, and sniffed it. After that passed his basset-hound test he took a little sip. Nick caught the tiny wince, but the kid looked to Skylar and gave her a big thumbs up before walking out the door.

He didn’t even let her finish sighing before putting his foot down. “No. That whole…thing is not happening.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she argued back.

“Like hell I can’t. That kid’s what? Sixteen?”

In a tiny voice, Skylar said, “Seventeen.”

“That’s almost eighteen. That’s an adult.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not even four years difference.” Skylar stomped off, slamming her foot down with each step.

“You are not…” Nick began, chasing after her when Skylar turned her back to him. Every damn alarm bell was clanging hard. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “You are fourteen years old. That is way too young to date guys that drink espresso.”

“God! Stop it! ” She flung him off and ran to the office, scooping up her backpack.

Nick followed, trying to think of a dozen reasons why a kid that could be a senior was bad news for messing around with a freshman. But Skylar dashed for the backdoor. Just before she ran into the parking lot, she shouted at him in tears, “Why do you keep trying to ruin my life?”

He took a step to chase after, and his shoe hit a bean. It cracked and sent him skidding, allowing Skylar to flee. By the time Nick reoriented himself without falling on his face, she was gone.Damn it.She was too hopped up on hormones to see the dangers that he, a once seventeen-year-old boy, knew were coming. Scowling, Nick pulled out his phone and started to text his niece.

He’s trouble. He’ll use you. He won’t care if he breaks your heart.

Skylar would ignore every sentence. Erasing them all, Nick typed, “You better be going to school,” and pressed send. She left him unread.

EMMA ADDED A drizzle of dark chocolate over the praline mocha and passed it over. The customer’s eyes lit up as she twisted the cup around and took a quick pic. Her ‘thank you’ was quickly silenced by a drink.

The storage room door flung open and Nick stepped out. He’d been in the back cleaning for over an hour since Skylar ran off. Luckily, there hadn’t been any major misadventures for Emma, but she grew worried as the line stretched to the door.

“Getting busy?” he asked, the bags under his eyes more pronounced. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as if to scatter whatever was bothering him. Instead of a comforting smile, he wore an off-putting grimace. All the better to terrify the indecisive customers with.

When he barreled to the cash register, Emma dropped her fingers to his arm. “I can deal with the ML lot if you’d like.”

“The ML…? Oh.” He snorted once at figuring out her code but shrugged away her offer. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with them before. I can handle them now.”

It didn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to figure out he didn’t approve of his young niece’s fondness for a teenage boy. Having once been a love-struck fourteen-year-old herself, Emma understood all too well the dramatic pain of crushing on the cute, impossible boy in class. But she’d also been the naive nineteen-year-old told by men ten and twenty years older than her how she was mature for her age. It was everything she’d wanted to hear, and they’d used it to walk all over her. Of course, nothing said Antonio acted like that. He could be a total sweetheart.

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