Behind me, Carmine’s steps thundered—but instead of following me, he veered toward the man.
That was odd.
I parked myself at the front counter, trying not to pace. My fingers itched for something to do, so I busied myself scrubbing a nonexistent smear on the glass cake dome just to give my hands a task. Then I wiped the perfectly clean bartop and rearranged the to-go lids. Anything to stop myself from glancing toward the broody Russian man’s table like a guilty kid in church.
Trina slid past me quickly as she moved to take an order. “Girl,” she muttered, half amused, half horrified, “you’re in trouble now. He’s not gonna let you talk your way out of this one.”
My stomach sank a little.
I risked a sideways look. Carmine stood next to the man’s table, leaning in, speaking low. I couldn’t hear a word, but I didn’t need to. The way Carmine’s head ducked and the slight tilt of his shoulders spoke volumes. He was apologizing. Crap.
I’d never seen that from Carmine. Ever.
Whatever the man was saying, it made Carmine nod—twice—and keep his tone level like he was trying to defuse a bomb.
Something was seriously off.
I swallowed and smoothed my apron.
Trina gave me a look that said I should start praying.
My hands moved on their own, lining up the sugar packets like they were soldiers. Every second dragged. Whoever that man was, he had Carmine sweating.
And now I’d gone and mouthed off to him. I’d clearly screwed up.
Awesome.
The man got up, and Carmine quickly corralled me by the bar like I was a misbehaving pup. “Do you have any idea who that man is?” he asked.
“I didn’t catch his name,” I said with a huff. “Didn’t seem polite to ask since he was such an…an… Well, let’s just say his people skills might need an exorcism.”
Carmine didn’t blink. “He’s not the kind of man you question or piss off. He’s the kind of man you hope never knows your name. Russian. Mafia. The kind that makes bodies vanish before sunrise.”
A chill crept down my spine. Not because I believed in boogeymen. I didn’t.
At least not until one had looked me dead in the eye and ordered his coffee to go.
He was flesh, blood, and something wicked enough to make my thighs clench.
“Carmine, I—”
“This isn’t Cosby, Tennessee,” he said sharply. “You don’t antagonize men like that up here. Not unless you’re suicidal or have a bulletproof soul. Hell, girl, people disappear in this city for less.”
I swallowed. Hard.
“I was just standing up for myself.”
“You were being reckless. I offered to fire you to make amends,” he growled. “I get that you’re new on the morning shift and normally don’t wait on those types of customers. But regardless, you can’t get in people’s faces with smart-ass remarks. I know you’re usually good with customers. But don’t confuse likability with invincibility.”
I folded. A little. “I’m sorry, Carmine. I’ll do better. I swear. Normally, I don’t let customers like him rile me up. He was just such a jerk. And you know I work hard.”
He eyed me for a beat. “That’s the only reason you still have a job.”
My shoulders relaxed half an inch. “So I’m not fired?”
He grumbled something under his breath in Italian, then waved a hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I grinned and popped a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, boss.”
