Page 72 of Mistletoe Latte

Emma punched the dough harder, trying to beat down her dreams that’d slipped away from chef whites and banquet halls to a tiny kitchen and the smell of coffee in her hair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SHE WALKED OUT with her tray of fresh donuts to a smattering of applause and a loud cheer from Sam. “Let me help you with that,” he offered by taking two of the eggnog donuts off the tray. One went straight into his mouth while he left her to place the rest on the counter.

“Anyone else pre-order?” Emma asked. People dashed forward, clearing out the tray in record time. “Guess I’ll go make more.”

The cafe was packed with nothing but smiling faces, every person taking their time to sip their coffee and chat. Nick closed the register, handed over the receipt, and reached for a mug.

“This place is hopping,” Emma said, holding the tray to her chest. “They must really love your latte.” She wasn’t surprised. After long last, they could enjoy the fabled drink.

Nick snorted. “All they keep talking about are your donuts and eclairs. I think that guy wants a pop of cake?”

She chuckled at the mangling of a cake pop. An awkward jitteriness rose between them. He had a line stretching out the door, Emma had rows of doughy circles ready for the fryer. But neither could move. It was the worst time to do it, but Emma had to know if…if he wanted her around as much as she wanted to be around.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Nick’s palm fell off the espresso machine handle. He jerked to her, then to the coffee. “You…you need to try this.”

Emma looked to the line of warm but uncertain customers. Nick glanced too, but after tossing a mocha at a woman, he got to work. “Take a seat.”

This was silly, but she hopped onto the stool next to Sam. It was the same one she’d sat on her first day in Lake Holly. “You see the weather out there?” Sam asked. “They say it’s another blizzard.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder, noticing white splashing against the window. “I think it’s just the old snow blowing in the wind.”

“What’s taking so long?” Skylar asked. She dashed from cleaning up an abandoned table to standing right behind Emma. “What are you doing?”

Nick moved with confidence, dropping in his mystery ingredients so fast she couldn’t even see them. “Our resident pastry expert needs to try the new mistletoe latte before she…before she can make her version. Right?” He stopped his java dance to look over his shoulder. A treasure trove of questions lurked in those sky blue eyes, but Emma didn’t know how to open it.

“Ah.” Skylar snickered and stepped back. “Got it. You two enjoy your…latte. But then the table by the tree is waiting on their americanos.”

Emma turned to follow when Nick placed the mug in front of her and began to pour in the milk. As the coffee line rose, a white image emerged. Not of holly and ivy, nor mistletoe—it was an unmistakable heart with a wreath surrounding it. Nick topped it off with a sprinkling of green and white sugar, and he handed it over.

“Here you go.”

“It’s almost too pretty to drink.” Emma turned the mug around to slip her thumb into the handle, but she froze as the beautiful heart he’d poured began to shake. Luckily, she stopped before it broke.

“Please.” Nick’s simple plea wrenched her to look up into his eyes. “I want to know what you think.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep drink.Oh, it’s hot. Emma tried to keep from reacting in surprise as the familiar coffee roast blended with the nutty and juniper syrups. It was sugarier than the last one and… She licked the edge of her lip and stared at him. “Is that sweet cream?”

Nick’s smile rose, his eyes gleaming. “You found me out.”

“It’s wonderful, richer than before, and…” Every sip reminded her of him. Dark, occasionally bitter and abrasive on the first note, but with each new taste a surprise opened of split pines, a little nuttiness, and a sweetness hidden deep within. Emma didn’t want to stop drinking it, but she feared what would happen when it was gone.

“Looks like you’ve got a little…” He pointed to her nose.Oh, dear.Emma moved to wipe it off with her thumb, when he—in front of everyone—cupped the back of her neck. He leaned across the counter and she stood on the stool’s footrest to reach him.

Emma closed her eyes and she parted her lips.

“Hey, Soul? I’ve got good news.”

Nick retreated his hand and she dropped to the floor. The mechanic hustled over. “Morning, Nick. Usual?”

“Uh,” was all Nick said, but he didn’t rush to the cash register. He stood close, listening in.

“Did you get my messages?” the mechanic asked. “Never mind. I got the part in early and just finished installing it. Your vehicle’s all ready to go. Even got it cleaned up. It was brown, right?”

“Uh…gray?” Emma squeaked. It was finished? Already? But there was at least another day to go. How could it be done?

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