"It's not the horns," I protested weakly, though I'd definitely had thoughts about those horns. Specifically, what it would feel like to grab them while he—
"Your eyes just glazed over, so I'm guessing whatever you're thinking about isn't his management style," Bramble observed.
I straightened, smoothing my dress with dignity I didn't feel. "It doesn't matter what I'm thinking. Nothing is going to happen between me and Krampus. He's here to evaluate the café, possibly replace me, and then disappear back to whatever dark dimension he came from."
"Uh-huh," Silas said, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm going to stop wearing eyeliner and start a boy band with leprechauns."
"I mean it," I insisted. "Professional boundaries. That's what this week is about. Me proving I'm the best person to run this café, not... whatever you two are implying."
Bramble hopped off her stool, patting my arm sympathetically. "Of course, sweetie. Professional boundaries. Just like the 'professional boundaries' between the siren and the sea witch who were caught doing very unprofessional things in the supply closet last Valentine's Day."
I winced at the memory. We'd had to burn sage for a week to clear out the aftereffects of that particular tryst.
"That's different," I argued. "They weren't boss and employee."
"No," Silas agreed, his ruby eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "They were just horny beings with too much magic and not enough self-control. Totally different from your situation."
I grabbed a dish towel and flicked it at him, missing by inches as he danced away with grace.
"I hate you both," I declared, though we all knew it was a lie.
"You love us," Bramble corrected. "And we love you enough to support whatever bad decisions you make with our terrifying employer. Just keep the magical fallout contained, please. The last thing we need is mistletoe growing where it shouldn't."
I pushed off the stool, my brief respite clearly over. "Nothing. Is. Happening."
"If you say so," Silas singsonged, returning to his cupcakes. "But if something does, I want details. Full slutty details."
I marched back toward the door, straightening my shoulders and fixing my smile back in place. "I'm going back to work. To be professional. And appropriate. And not at all interested in anything remotely horn-related."
Their laughter followed me through the door, and despite my embarrassment, a small smile tugged at my lips. They saw through me so completely it was almost a relief. At least with Silas and Bramble, I didn't have to pretend to be perfect, sunny Simone.
Now if only I could convince my body to stop reacting every time Krampus looked in my direction. Right. This was going to be a very long day.
The mid-afternoon lull settled over the café like a warm blanket, wrapping us in temporary quiet. Most customers had returned to whatever passed for work in their lives, leaving behind empty mugs and crumb-scattered plates. The few who remained were deeply engrossed in books or tablets, creating that perfect café ambiance of gentle concentration. I was wiping down the espresso machine, lost in the meditative rhythm of cleaning, when the air around me changed. Even before I turned, I knew he was there.
Krampus had stepped behind the counter, an invasion of my territory that felt simultaneously offensive and thrilling. He had no right to be in my workspace. Yet the flutter in my stomach suggested parts of me welcomed the intrusion. His body blocked the overhead lights, surrounding me in a cocoon of heat and shadow that made my skin prickle with awareness.
"You've got a white spot," he rumbled.
I glanced up, momentarily confused. He towered over me, this close, I could see details I'd missed before, the fine silver veining in his red skin, the way his pupils were shaped like inverted diamonds in pools of molten gold, the subtle patterns etched into his horns that seemed to shift and change if I looked at them too long. He raised one hand, and I flinched instinctively, a reaction that made his eyes narrow slightly. But instead of whatever I'd feared (or hoped for, if I'm being completely honest), he extended a single clawed finger and brushed it gentlyacross my cheek. The touch was feather-light, the pad of his finger surprisingly soft against my skin despite the dangerous talon tipping it.
"Flour," he explained, showing me the white powder on his fingertip.
My breath caught in my throat. Such an innocent explanation for a touch that felt anything but. His gaze traveled slowly over my face, lingering on my lips before returning to my eyes. "What are you hiding, little star?"
Little star. The words sent a shiver down my spine.
"Just my secret plan for café domination," I quipped, aiming for humor but landing somewhere in the vicinity of breathless flirtation. "First The Hearth, then the world. All shall bow before my peppermint mochas."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something adjacent to amusement. His finger, still hovering near my face, traced a line from my cheekbone to my jaw with excruciating gentleness. My heart hammered so loudly I was certain he could hear it, a frantic percussion announcing my body's betrayal.
"Deflection," he murmured, his claw now tracing the curve of my lower lip. "Interesting defense mechanism. Look me in the eye and tell me what you fear, Simone Parker."
The use of my full name jolted through me like an electric current. I forced my gaze upward, intending a quick, defiant glance. But once caught in those eyes, I couldn't look away. His pupil expanded slightly as we stared at each other, the blackness eating into the gold like an eclipse devouring the sun.
I'd meant to say something witty. Instead, what came out was raw truth:
"Losing this place," I whispered. "It's all I have."
