Carmen draws out the two words slowly and reluctantly, and that’s in stark contrast to how quickly and enthusiastically I spring toward the boxes, stooping down and hefting up the top one. They are heavy, but I don’t put all that gym time in for nothing.
“They’re lighter than they look,” I say with a grin, hoping that maybe my strength impresses her.
The roll of her eyes tells me it doesn’t.
“Just put them behind the counter, I’ll unload them from there,” she says. I’m about to hop to it when she halts me by adding, “And, umm … thanks.”
It feels like fireworks are going off in my chest. A big, goofy grin splits my face from ear to ear. “Don’t mention it.”
Carmen stands holding the door open for me, so I rush back and forth, wanting her to get out of the cold as soon as possible. Already, wispy flurries of snow are starting to streak through the frigid air. Carmen steps in behind me after I lift the last of the three boxes.
“Wait, look out?—”
By the time I register her warning, I’ve already stepped on something, and it shifts under my foot. All my weight is on that leg, and I totally lose my equilibrium.
Suddenly, every step is a fight to keep my balance. I lurch from one end of the shop to the other, juggling the box in my hands, bumping into chairs and tables as my tilting bodyweight pulls me in the direction of the counter. I do a three-sixty spin when my feet get tangled, just barely managing to keep the box from flying out of my hands and falling face-first onto the hardwood floor.
By the slimmest of margins, I avoid smashing into the glass display case showing off pastries and sandwiches. I sway to the side and thread through the narrow opening that leads behind the counter.
In doing so, I have to do another rotation. The back of my heel catches on the piece of wood that marks the threshold between the work area behind the counter and the café floor.
The last tenuous thread of my balance snaps, and I plop down on my ass, somehow still clinging to the box.
I look up to see my teammates standing by the table, craning their necks at me. Then Carmen swims into my vision, her eyes wide. “Jamie, are you okay?”
My butt probably hurts. I’m sure it does. I fell way too hard, and this wood floor has no give. But I don’t notice it, because all I can focus on is the fact that this is the first time Carmen’s ever uttered my name.
I’m pretty sure I could lose a finger and not feel any pain if Carmen were looking at me with her coffee-colored eyes wide like this and saying my name.
“I’m fine,” I answer, moving my hips and back a little to make sure there’s no sharp stab of pain indicating an injury.
“Are you sure?”
I place the box down at my side. “All good.”
“You’rereallysure?”
I smile, shooting her a thumbs-up while still seated.
A beat of silence passes as she continues to look at me with concern … and then she laughs.
My jaw drops. Electricity dances up my spine. Buzzing warmth swells behind my chest.
Her laugh is a sweet, warm, twinkling sound, and I think I could die a happy man just having been able to hear it. It’s like warm honey in my ears, suffusing through my body and making me feel like I’m floating instead of sitting sprawled out on the worn hardwood floor of a coffee shop.
“Sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You just … should’ve seen yourself. It was like a cartoon.” She bites back her laughter before asking again in a more serious tone, “You’resureyou’re okay?”
Alright, so hurting myself makes her laugh. Maybe I can use this to my advantage.
“Absolutely,” I say, springing up deftly to my feet.
At least, I imagined doing it deftly. In reality, I bump the back of my head on some shelving while getting upright. I rub the stinging spot under my hair, beaming a reassuring smile and another thumbs up at Carmen while I do so.
Her lips twitch for just a second, but then the usual flat, grumpy expression washes back over her. “Thanks,” she says, her voice clipped again. “That was helpful.”
I feel like the grin on my face could power the electricity in the place for a week. “Don’t mention it.”
“Jamie!” Carter calls from our table, where all the guys are tugging their jackets on. “Get your clumsy ass over here, we’re going to get some lunch.”
