Page 73 of Mistletoe Latte

Daryl laughed. “I know, Soul. That’s mechanic humor for you. Don’t worry, it’s all in tip-top shape.”

“That’s…good? I mean, thank you for getting it done early.”

“Didn’t want you to be stuck here under his growling mug any longer.” Daryl jerked a thumb to Nick and laughed.

Emma looked over, but Nick had his back turned to them both. All she could see were his shoulders hunched in thought. He wouldn’t have to house her anymore. Not have to feed her. Not wake up next to her in his bed and swoop his fingers down her back until she gasped.

He was free.

“What do I owe you?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve got the invoice back at the shop, but with parts and labor, it comes to about three grand and change.”

“Three…! That’s a lot of money.”

“We do take credit cards.”

Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe she’d have to stay here to work off her debt for another week. Help out with the Christmas rush and become so invaluable Nick would want her to stay.

With certainty in her steps, Emma walked around the counter to the man hunched over the coffee. “Double espresso with…oat milk!” he shouted to the room with a growl. “Why do we even have that? Oats don’t have udders.”

“Nick…?” she started, before her voice dropped to a squeak.

He glared at her and all her nerve fled. “Yeah?”

Emma tried to not look away, but she couldn’t help it.

A softer voice asked, “What do you need?”

I wish I knew.

“I guess my vehicle’s done, but the bill is…” God, her chest ached and her jaw clenched shut. She couldn’t force it out no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he would let her stay for another day, or five. Deep in her soul, Emma didn’t think she was worthy of an extension of his kindness.

“So I heard. Highway robbery, but that’s mechanics for you. Let me talk to him. I can get it down to something reasonable.”

Emma placed her hand to his arm. He paused in walking away to berate Daryl and looked back at her. “It’s not that.” She swept her hand lower, tracing the heavy flannel until her fingertips glanced against his skin.

Nick was the one to take her fingers and hold them safe. He turned her away from the bustling cafe as if they were alone in the middle of a blizzard all over again.

Biting her lip, Emma forced out the courage. “It’s…well, I was wondering if—”

The shop bell jangled, cutting her off. She breathed deep, prepared to ask him to let her stay when Nick’s eyes darted to the crowd and his jaw dropped.

“Rachel?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

IT WASN’T REAL. She was a similar tall woman with brunette hair and sharp blue eyes. He’d blink and the face from his memories would fade.

“Nicky.”

Pain shot up his arm, and he stumbled back, his heart awash in the sticky and stinging memories.

It was her, five years later out of nowhere. Out of all the coffee joints in all the world.

She was dressed the way he’d remembered, professional but with a skirt. Always with a skirt. Rachel stared around the cafe, then she met his eyes and smiled, “This place hasn’t changed a lick.”

“Neither have you,” Nick said.

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