I fumbled a simple cappuccino, nearly burning my hand on the steam wand. This wouldn't do. I had a café to run, customers to serve, and a reputation to uphold. I wasn't about to let a horned, seven-foot Christmas cryptid throw off my latte game.
"You're staring," Silas muttered as he passed behind me with a tray of fresh pastries. Today's theme seemed to be "festive memento mori" gingerbread coffins with candy cane handles, skull-shaped sugar cookies with holly berry eyes.
"I am not," I hissed back, though I absolutely was. It was like trying not to look at a car wreck, if the car wreck was unfairly attractive and radiating enough heat to warm the entire café.
"He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he sat down." Silas's voice dripped with suggestive delight. "I think the boss likes what he sees."
I shoved him with my elbow. "Go frost something demonic and leave me alone."
But Silas's observation sank into my awareness like a stone in water, rippling outward until it was all I could think about. The weight of Krampus's gaze felt physical, a pressure against my skin that followed me as I moved behind the counter. My cheeks burned. My fingers trembled slightly as I prepared a triple-shot mocha for a sleep-deprived witch.
"Extra whip today, Ms. Parker?" she asked, her eyes barely open.
"After the week you've had? Absolutely." I piled the whipped cream high, adding a sprinkle of cinnamon and a touch of edible glitter that sparkled like tiny stars. "On the house."
Her tired smile was worth every cent of that small kindness. This was what I lived for, these tiny connections, the web of community I'd woven customer by customer. I glanced toward Krampus, wondering if he noticed these moments. If he understood that The Hearth was more than balance sheets and profit margins. He was still watching, one clawed finger tapping rhythmically against the tabletop, the wood beneath his talon had begun to smoke faintly.
I grabbed a cleaning cloth and bottle of wood polish, steeling myself as I approached his table. Each step closer sent my heart rate climbing until I could hear my pulse drumming in my ears. The heat radiating from him intensified as the distance between us shrank, not uncomfortable, but enveloping, like stepping into a hot bath.
"Mind if I clean this table?" I asked, gesturing to the empty space across from him. My voice came out steadier than I felt, a small victory.
He didn't answer immediately. Just kept watching me, his expression unreadable.
"By all means."
His eyes caught mine, gold against brown, and held. I couldn't look away. I didn't want to. The world beyond our shared gaze faded to background noise. His pupils expanded slightly, the black centers eating into the gold, and something fierce and hungry flashed across his face. My chest fluttered like I'd swallowed a hummingbird. My breath hitched, catching on nothing. His nostrils flared slightly. Could he smell it on me?The sudden, mortifying arousal that had bloomed under his gaze?
"Simone!" Bramble's voice snapped the tension like a dry twig. "That traveling potion-seller is asking about the cinnamon buns again."
I jerked back, breaking the eye contact that had held me captive. "Coming!"
My hands shook as I gathered my cleaning supplies, the bottle nearly slipping from my grip. I could feel sweat beading at my hairline, dampening curls that had been perfectly arranged this morning. My smile felt brittle as I fixed it back in place.
"Enjoy your... sitting," I managed lamely, then fled back to the safety of my counter.
Behind me, I heard the deep, quiet rumble of his laughter, satisfied and knowing, like he'd confirmed something important.
I spent the next hour in a state of hyperawareness, my body betraying me with each passing minute. Every time I turned, I found his eyes. Every time I smiled at a customer, I wondered if he could tell it wasn't reaching my eyes. Every time I bent to retrieve something from a lower shelf, I felt the heat of his attention.
This was going to be the longest week of my life.
I was just settling into a rhythm when I noticed the goblin sisters shooting daggers at each other with their bulbous eyes. Myrtle and Thistle (not their real names, just what I called them in my head) came in every Thursday for peppermint scones and nettle tea. They always argued, but today's tension crackled between them, making the sugar shakers on their table vibrate ominously. I'd seen enough supernatural sibling spats to recognize the warning signs of imminent chaos.
The taller sister jabbed a gnarled green finger at the single remaining peppermint scone on their shared plate. Her wartynose quivered with indignation. "I specifically ordered three! That means this one is mine!"
"You've already had one!" The shorter goblin's ears, long and pointed like overgrown chili peppers, twitched violently. "I've only had one because you inhale yours like a vacuum cleaner with teeth!"
I glanced toward Krampus, who was watching the developing drama with narrowed eyes. Great. Just what I needed, customer drama with the boss from hell evaluating my crowd control skills. Before I could intervene, the situation escalated from simmering to boiling. The shorter goblin made a grab for the scone, but her sister slapped her hand away with a loud smack that turned heads throughout the café. Not to be outdone, the shorter goblin let out a battle cry that sounded like a blender full of gravel, and lunged across the table.
"It's mine!" she shrieked, sinking her yellowed teeth directly into her sister's forearm.
The bitten goblin howled. Tea cups flew. A napkin holder sailed across the room, narrowly missing a vampire's perfectly coiffed hair. The sugar bowl tipped, spilling crystals that immediately formed themselves into tiny marching soldiers on the tabletop.
I was already moving. This wasn't my first goblin rodeo.
"Ladies!" I sang out, my voice dripping with honey while my eyes promised consequences. "What seems to be the issue today?"
The shorter goblin was still attached to her sister's arm, teeth embedded deep enough that I could see the indentations. The taller one had her claws tangled in her sister's straggly hair. Both froze mid-fight, looking up at me with identical expressions of surprise, as if they'd forgotten they were in public.
