She gave me a perplexed look. "You mean…in a car?"
"No. ByBarista Drama."
This made her sputter. "Hey—"
I cut her off. "Sorry. No further questions."
She made a noise of outrage that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. But then, her laughter faded as she said, "You know…I should probably get back to the coffee shop." With her free hand, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and studied the screen. She looked up with a wince. "It's almost 11:30."
Screw the time.I wasn't ready to let her go. "So play hooky."
"I can't," she said. "I've already called in late."
"So quit."
She glanced toward the nearest window. "At this rate, I won'thaveto quit, I'll be fired."
"So be fired," I said. "The job can't bethatterrific."
This made her frown. "Yeah, and what would that say about me? Getting fired from two jobs in a row?"
"Nothing. Because you weren't fired from your last one. You quit, remember?"
She scoffed. "Yeah, that's whatIsay, but Thatcher-Hale would say differently."
She'd said as much last night, but I still didn't get why she was sticking with the barista thing. Not only was she vastly overqualified, the place was a mismanaged disaster. "If it's about money," I said, "I've got plenty." I smiled with sudden inspiration."AndI'm hiring."
She gave me a dubious look. "For what position?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Paid tour guide?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I can't guide anyone. I barely know the island."
That was fine by me. We could explore it together."So?"
"So I'd make an even worse guide than a barista, andthat'ssaying something."
"Oh come on. You seem like an okay barista to me."
She didn't look flattered. "Yeah, well…maybe I don't want to be justokay."
"Fine. Then you're an excellent barista."
This only made her laugh, except it wasn't the happy sound from earlier. "Trust me, even 'okay' is a gross exaggeration." She lifted the hand I wasn't holding to show me her thumb. "Look."
It took me only a moment to spot it – a red welt about the size of a dime. I frowned. "Where'd you get that?"
"On the steam wand," she said. "The thing hates me. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
Her shoulders sagged. "Because I'm the worst barista, ever."
The sight of the burn, small as it was, made something tighten in my chest. "That's bullshit."
She shot me a warning look before whispering, "Let's keep it PG, okay?"
I knew what she meant, but the family had already moved on, leaving us alone in the quiet space. So unless someone was hiding under the bed, I figured we were safe to say whatever we wanted.
