Skylar stared up, and he reared back at the gobs of black makeup smeared across her lashes. “Why? You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Sky…”
“Oh, sh…oot.” She caught herself quickly and looked at the clock. “I’ve got to get to school. Here.” Without pause, she thrust the wash bin into Nick’s hands. He stumbled to catch it, giving her just enough time to yank her backpack up from the counter stool and make it one step to the door before he noticed.
“You are not wearing that.”
Skylar, a fourteen-year-old going on twenty-five, crossed her arms over a midriff-baring t-shirt. The only thing keeping it on her shoulders were two miniature ties barely knotted together. “Unless you have time to drive me all the way back to home and then school, I think I am.”
Oh, hell no.He was not having sass from her this early. Nick dropped the wash bin to the floor and kicked it to the side. He waggled a finger in her face and ordered her to stay put before walking into the back. Past the storage room was his office. Without bothering to flick on the lights, he reached into an old box and yanked up the first shirt he found while grumbling the entire time. At least Skylar hadn’t left, though she was innocently picking at her nails like he was the bad guy.
Nick hurled the old polo at her head. “Put that on.”
“Ew!” Skylar started to throw the shirt away, but at his glare she held it. “I’m not wearing that. It stinks of coffee and some old guy’s BO.”
“You are putting that on, young lady, or so help me.”
“So help you what?” she taunted, waving the yellow polo like a fighter taunting a snorting bull.
He couldn’t gore her, but he had better options at his fingertips. “Or you’re working the entire weekend.”
“But, it’s the winter formal…”
Nick crossed his arms and nodded as if he remembered that all along.
Skylar’s sarcastic perch crumbled. Her lips trembled in familiar rage. She hurled her book bag to the ground. “Fine!” Stuffing the old polo over her head, she kept ranting at him. “You’re ruining my life! I hate you.”
“I know,” Nick said.
She yanked her ponytail from the wide neck hole, her skinny body properly hidden behind a large, unshapely polo. Clenching her hands as if to choke him, she gave that patented teenage girl shriek of rage. “Why are you so awful?”
“Years of practice.”
Exclaiming once more, Skylar pulled up her bag and spun on her heel. Nick slipped behind the counter and began to buff the surface. She tugged open the door harder than he had and took one step into the frosty December morning.
“Have a nice day,” Nick called, his voice sweeter than sugar.
Skylar gave him the glare of death. He knew it took a year off of his life, but it was worth it. She slammed the door so hard that the bell ricocheted, struck the ceiling, and fell to the ground. “Teenagers,” Nick said with a shrug.
“Excuse me.” One of the latte people disengaged from the pack and approached him studiously scrubbing the counter while whistling. “When are you going to bring out a mistletoe latte?”
“Never.”
The man jerked in shock and looked back to the others. A titter of nervous laughter rebounded around. “But this is Brew 4 U,” he said patiently.
“What it says outside.” Nick jabbed a hand at the sign and spotted Skylar looking back with vengeance.Now what?
“Aren’t you famous for the mistletoe lattes that are rumored to…”
Nick whipped his glare at the man and dug the heels of his palms into the counter. The guy had enough sense to stop talking. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your heads, but can any of you read? Says right there in big ass letters!” He gestured to the first sign he’d made when this madness started. “No Mistletoe Lattes.”
“But the—”
“And if you’re not here for a cappuccino, or an americano, or a mocha, take your damn influencer ass out my door!” Nick pointed at the horde. They’d probably pay ten bucks for a cup of burned bean juice, but he didn’t have the patience to bother.
Like a flock of chickens, they bumped into each other to flee, phones flashing as if to prove they’d been bamboozled. Whoever was going around telling these people about the mistletoe lattes was a liar, and if Nick ever found ‘em… He wrung his towel around his hands and looked out the front window.
Skylar met his eye and raised a mischievous grin. In one fell swoop, she tugged the polo off, dumped it in the trash, and took off down the street whistling.
