“Okay.” I smiled, raising a finger. “And Iwillput her on the naughty list. Or buy up all the cinnamon twists.”
The barista laughed and my heart started fluttering like a partridge in a pear tree. This grinch was smiling because ofme.
I dropped the change into the red-ribbon tip jar and flounced off to the pickup area. The puffs of steam, the aroma of roasting beans, and the easy background chatter soothed my racing heart. Sweat pooled in the small of my back. At least having the jacket partially unzipped gave me some air.
I rocked on my aching feet and glanced at the register. Judging by his body language, Olive Hat Man was blunt but pleasant enough to the next customer. He was polite and efficient. All part of working in customer service. There was no non-awkward way to figure out if he was single and/or looking for romance. We were both working. If he was interested,he’dhave to say something. I wasn’t gonna leave my number just because he smiled and made a joke with me. That would be silly. He was just being nice, giving me a cookie for bravery.
A guy wearing a man-bun set two drinks and a paper bag on the counter. “Sugarplum?”
“That’s me.” I grabbed my stuff and headed for the door, lingering for one last glance.
Barista Boy caught my eye and jerked his chin, his lip quirking up.
Oh, hot cocoa. I got The Nod. Hehadto like me.
I ran from the scene, my shoes jangling as loud as the alarms in my head. This was ridiculous. I was reading way too much into his mannerisms during the two minutes a day I actually spoke to him. And even if he did think I was cute for a second, he’d probably go running as soon as he saw the plushie in my backseat.He was cool; he stood tall. He didn’t smile at everycustomer, play in snow, or admire random coffee sleeves. But today, he smiled at me.
By the time I returned to the holiday tree cove, I was skipping.
Chestnut snuck a sip of coffee. “Why are you so happy?”
“No reason.” I turned my toes inward and gently swirled the iced coffee with a straw. “I got caffeine and a cookie.”
“Let me see the receipt and I’ll send you the… Wait, did you use your elf name on this?” He furrowed his brow.
“Yeah, the first time I went in, a kid recognized me. Now, the barista kinda teases me about it.” I waved my drink, the ice clinking. “It’s a thing.”
“With Harvey?” he asked.
“Who?” I chewed the straw.
“The name of your server is on the receipt.” He held it up so I could see.
“It is? Oh, wow. Harvey.” I wilted with a dreamy sigh. What a cute name.
Chestnut raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got a thing for the barista?”
“N-no. I don’t even know him. I just like cinnamon.”
“What does that mean?” He chuckled. “Has he given you cinnamon?”
“No, they’re always out of the twists. But he’s nice and he smells like cinnamon.”
“You’resniffingthe hot barista?”
“No.” I snatched the receipt, my face flaming.
Chestnut danced around the walkway. “I wonder if we have any mistletoe around here. Harvey and Sugarplum, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I–”
“Stop it, you nutcracker.” I reached for his cup of coffee. “We aren’t supposed to be silly about real life things."
He bolted, continuing his chant. “It’s the North Pole, there should bemoresinging.” He appealed to kids nearby. “Do you think Sugarplum is in loooooove?”
The little kids giggled and tugged their parents’ sleeves, pointing at me and saying stuff like, “She’s blushing.”
Jolly Santa stood and deepened his voice. “Are my elves misbehaving?”
Cowed, I hung my head and held my hands behind my back. “No, Santa.”
