Page 47 of Mistletoe Latte

He didn’t realize Emma had moved until her tiny fingers brushed over the desk’s fake wood grain. “Losing a job is hard.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s true.” Nick let his hand fall beside hers, their fingers pointing towards each other. He stared at her nails painted baby pink. His were gritty from the coffee grounds, the edges worn and splintered. It’d be nice to feel soft hands again.

“I couldn’t let my niece suffer, not for what her dad…happened.” He’d thought Rachel would understand. It was only for a few years. And Skylar wasn’t a baby. It was family. “But when Rach said no kids, she meant it. Christmas day, Rachel moved out and I got a nine-year-old girl drawing all over the walls with glitter pens.” With time, Nick was able to laugh at the memory of a confused but certain Skylar, five pens in hand, creating a rainbow in the living room. Back then, he’d shouted himself hoarse outside screaming at the world.

“Like an idiot, I tied every cent in my name to this place. If I couldn’t keep it afloat, I’d drown. Luckily, there are enough people off the interstate who love overpriced caffeine.”

Nick waited for a laugh, or for Emma to dash for the door. Maybe grab her things and run to that rented room. But she stood beside him, the tip of her index finger almost glancing against his.

“I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt.”

Like a cinder block to the chest. The pain lessened but the memory, the possibility of what could have been, stuck to him like boiling sugar.

“You gave up so much for Skylar when she needed you the most.”

Nick flinched at the praise in her voice. He wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t hoping for valor. “I did what I had to.” Rather than face her eyes, Nick looked at their hands. Both clung to the desk, fingers curled under the edge. But her pinkie began to slide closer and his did the same. He traced through the air almost caressing her skin, running up the knuckle to the edge, when Emma placed her little pink nail on the top of his.

The tiny comfort drew Nick to look up. He’d stooped from so much history that he was on her level and left adrift in her vast mocha eyes. She parted her lips, and he reached to hold her cheek, to brush his thumb down her jaw, and kiss her. Nick turned his palm and threaded his fingers through hers.

A beep burst from her phone. Emma’s cheeks pinked, and she slipped away, her hand falling from his. “It’s the…” she said, lifting her phone.

“Yeah, of course.” The reminder that she was walking out the door smashed into his gut. Out of sorts, he reached for his phone to not look like he was watching her secure her room.How is it already three?

Nick texted his niece to ask her where she was. He didn’t expect a response, only for her to get her ass in gear, and lay the phone on the desk.

Finishing with her appointment, Emma slipped her phone into her back pocket. She’d made it all the way to the door but seemed stuck in the threshold. “I should head out front. It’s been abandoned for a while. Oh, dear.”

“Don’t worry.” Nick tried to excuse her away when his phone rattled across the desk. As he scooped it up, he mumbled, “Sam’s probably already finished off the whole pot.” It was from Skyler.

At Abby’s. Studying for finals.

What about work?

Wasn’t school more important?

Damn it. She’d twisted his logic back around to stab him in the brain.

Fine. But no later than five. Weather’s bad.

Nick placed his phone upside down and wrung his palms over his cheeks. Whatever excuse Skylar came up with didn’t matter. He’d have to make it through the rest of the afternoon without wrenching his own heart as another woman walked out that door.

SHE TRIED TO not stare, but it was growing harder with every inch. No one had walked through the door in fifteen minutes, and the last one who did brought in a pile of icy snow that melted into a puddle. The buildings were gone, eclipsed by the gray-white fog sleeting from the sky.

“Welp, looks like I best be heading home.” Sam stood up and bundled away his police scanner that’d gone dark after the storm announcement. He patted his pockets, tossed a couple of dollars on the counter, then stuffed on his mittens. “You got somewhere warm to stay?”

She had no idea. The app could cancel for inclement weather and this little storm was looking more like a blizzard with every minute.

“Cause I got a place perfect for a woman of your sophistication.” Sam waggled his eyebrows and Emma tried to not cry out in shock. She’d thought of him as a grandfatherly type.

“That’s very kind of you, but…I’m…I mean…”

“She’s fine, Sam,” Nick spoke up, stepping through the employee door.

Had he been listening? Or was he used to the old man hitting on every woman who walked into the cafe?

Showing more signs of the latter, Nick hefted up Sam’s winter coat and helped the old man into it. “Better head home before this gets worse.”

Sam gave in without a fuss, slipping his bag over his shoulders and hustling for the door. “You too,” he said when he pushed on the handle. Freezing air blasted inside, nearly sending the old man toppling. Snow pelted his cheeks and wrinkly face. He pressed his hat tighter and shouted, “Unless you want to be stuck here all night.”

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