“It’s not.” My words must have fired some life into Jason because he turned his head slightly in my direction. The corner of his curvy lips kicked up, and Ifinallygot it. He was devastating, in a sleek-muscled sort of way, and had that bad-boy bullshit down pat. No wonder Emmy was nearly pissing their pants over him.
“Can I get you your usual?” Emmy asked.
Jason turned that smug smile on them, and it heated toward something friendlier. “Extra caramel, too?”
Emmy nodded.
“Don’t charge him,” Red said as she came over and nudged Jason’s arm with her elbow. He glanced down at her and lifted an eyebrow in a way that might have made me back off, but she only smiled at him.
“Okay,” Emmy chirped, only too happy to agree.
“Why?” Jason must not accept gifts easily because he frowned at her.
“Your cousin Timmy did a favor for me recently. He’s a stand-up guy.”
Jason rolled his eyes and nodded, then turned his board over to fiddle with one of the wheels, but the move seemed designed to give him something to do that wasn’t talk. Red snorted and walked away from him again to clean another table as a group of customers got up to leave.
Emmy rushed toward me, and as soon as they had milk steaming in a mug, they craned their neck toward Jason and sent me a scrunch-faced silent scream that had me chuckling. “He’s icing.”
“Icing?”
“I want to lick him,” Emmy said, but they weren’t as crafty with their whispering as they thought because I caught Jason turning his attention toward us with a small smile. Maybe Emmy had purposefully been too loud? I had no idea how these relationship games worked, but Jason puffed up and appeared very pleased with himself, and I almost wanted to laugh out loud.
The door had barely closed behind Jason—who stopped to send a stare at Emmy along with a little coffee-cup salute before he departed in a flash of hair and attitude—when Red came to the counter, hooting with laughter.
“I guess you like them mopey and taciturn,” I said.
Emmy blushed and swatted at us with their eyes closed, like they were trying to knock away our bullshit.
Red leaned her elbows on the counter. “What bug crawled up that boy’s ass? He has no problems that I know of.” Red shook her head and stared at the door he’d disappeared through.
Emmy snapped in my direction with a cleaning towel, and I backed off, still laughing, now that they were armed.
“He’s deep! He’s thoughtful! You just don’t know him like I do.”
Red broke down in real laughter. “You don’t know him, either. If I asked him your name, I bet he wouldn’t even know it.”
“I’d say that’s a losing bet.” I launched my opinion into their banter.
Emmy gave me a hug. “Forgiven!”
I fended them off, and Red lifted her eyebrows at me before she shifted around until she had her elbows leaned on the counter to survey the packed room.
She hummed to herself and tossed her head to get her hair off her shoulders. “That boy works at a funeral home. Family business. I don’t care what no one says, that much death isn’t good for someone his age. Tim let him do that shit too young. Probably why he’s quiet. You try to put together an Americano, Logan. They’re easy.”
I sweated my way through making the drink, and Red was happy enough with it that she gave it away to someone coming through the door—a college kid who was ecstatic with the freebie. And then the door opened again and a pair of cops came in. I was busy wiping down the espresso machine, so I didn’t pay much attention to them.
Emmy sucked in a deep breath and immediately turned around as if they needed to look busy or die trying, and I attempted not to stare too much as Red intercepted the cops on their trip across the room toward the service counter. Her body stiffened like a lightning rod as she pointed at them and said who knew what. Their shocked expressions told me one thing, however; they were not mentally prepared for Red.
But my gut dropped as I stared. I knew both of the cops, and they weren’t here for whatever trespassing bullshit Emmy might have gotten involved in with their crush, Jason.
“Fine,” she snapped after about a minute of quiet back-and-forth with the cops. “You have two minutes to talk to my employee, and then you’re out of here, and I don’t care what no-name little town you’re from, you’ll go.”
“That’s not how this works, Miss.”
“We’ll see,” she said and waved a hand toward the counter. My heart hammered. Maybe I could ignore them? I picked up a syrup bottle, put it away, and then thought about going in back to check on the dishes, since that was a job I had no problems with—Maybe they aren’t here for me after all? Please. Please.—but I wasn’t surprised when a throat cleared nearby, on the other side of the counter across from me. I looked up.
The first thing I noticed was sharp brown eyes. The second thing I noticed was the badge blazing on the black uniform: Minetto Sheriff’s Department. Then my brain finally kicked into gear and I panicked for real. I hadn’t expected to ever see this man again, let alone here.
