“Is it sweet?”
“It is,” I say, joining the conversation. “Though we can make an unsweetened version if you’d like.”
“No, the sugar will be the only thing to save it,” he laughs, drumming his fingers on the countertop, still unsure. “I’ll try it.”
Amused, I ask, “Would you like it for here or to go? If you want to hang out for a bit, we do free refills on our iced teas.”
“Here is fine.” He slides onto a stool while he waits, his eyes widening when I pull the pitcher from the fridge. “Oh, wow. That’s red.”
“Hibiscus tea looks like fruit punch, doesn’t it?” I pour a generous amount of raspberry mint syrup into a glass of ice and top it with the cold tea. “Do you want the mint sprig garnish?”
Marshall chuckles, grimacing. “Not particularly.”
I slide the glass across the counter and wait for him to taste it, hoping he likes it.
He takes a tentative sip and frowns as he contemplates it. Finally, he says, “That’s pretty good.”
“It’s Laverna’s recipe. We make the raspberry mint syrup ourselves.”
“It’s better than I expected.”
“That’s a compliment coming from Marshall,” Rowan says wryly. “His beverage of choice has been soda since he was fourteen. Laverna never convinced him to branch out.”
“I’ve added coffee to my short list of vices,” Marshall says.
“I bought a French press for the shop,” I say, excited that I’ll soon be able to offer something he enjoys. “It hasn’t arrived yet. But next time you drop by, I can make you a cup.”
Rowan looks over like I’ve lost my mind. “You orderedwhat?”
I wave away his concern. “Don’t worry about it.”
“We’re a tea shop. You can’t serve coffee here. Coffee is…the enemy.”
“Coffee isneverthe enemy.”
Rowan cringes, quietly horrified.
I laugh. “You’ll be all right. You might even learn to like it.”
“I’m too loyal for that nonsense.”
My smile falters when Anna walks into the tea shop. Her eyes immediately land on Marshall, and she freezes like a spooked bunny.
She and the mage have history. I don’t know exactly what type, but they’re not friendly.
Marshall notices when my laughter dies, and he follows my eyes to the front of the shop. The moment he spots Anna, his posture becomes rigid.
And then…he dismisses her. To Rowan and me, he says, “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take the tea to go.”
Rowan waits a beat, and then he grabs Marshall’s glass, preparing to transfer the tea into a to-go cup. “Sure.”
I half expect Anna to dart out the door, but she stands straighter, visibly giving herself a mental pep talk, and continues forward. Each step is slower and more hesitant than the last.
The city council secretary takes a place at the counter three stools down from Marshall. Even though they’re careful to keep their eyes off each other, the tension between them is thick.
“Hey, Anna,” I chirp, overcompensating for the chill that’s descended over my tea shop. “What can we make for you?”
“A London Fog, please.”
