CHAPTER THREE
“HIRE ME?” SHE repeated.
“For the day.” Nick realized how that sounded the second her face resembled a startled deer’s. “As a waitress, cashier—” The din of people braying for his blood and coffee rose. Nick winced. “Anything to help me deal withthem.If you want, I can get you a two-by-four to chase them away.”
Her easy smile lifted, almost bringing one to him until the door’s bell clanged like someone kicked it. “How’s two hundred, no…two-fifty sound for the next six hours?”
“That’s a lot of money for one day,” Emma whispered. She kept spinning the mug in her hands, one of a dozen he hadn’t had time to wash in days.
It’d cost him a lot more if he was pushed to the breaking point today. Where the hell did all of these people come from? Was the winter circus in town?
“Well…?” he prompted, needing to get back to the front before the mob stormed the castle. Nick pushed open the door, mentally back into the trenches, when Emma’s gaze fell. She tugged out a phone and twisted it around in her hands. As the black screen bounced back his harried reflection it finally hit him.
“You, oh, you probably had something better to do today. To get to. Forget I asked.”
“No.” She took a leap for him, her face gleaming with purpose. “I’d…I’d be happy to help wherever you need me.” Extending her hand, she slipped on her smile. He had to be crazy but the thing felt genuine, especially the glimmer catching in her brown eyes.
Take her damn hand.
Nick slammed his palm to hers so fast it felt like a slap, but she cupped her small fingers in his, and he jerked it up and down.
“You’ll be needing…” For the first time since she walked in, he let his gaze travel past her rosy cheeks. The coat had been blocking an even tinier frame than he’d first guessed. A pink turtleneck sweater hung from her petite chest and stopped somewhere around her thighs and the black jeans were stuffed into tall boots. Mystery curves for a mystery woman.
Emma gazed down to match his look that was veering into a leer. Nick snapped up and reached for the first box he found. “An apron!” he shouted, picking up a roll of toilet paper instead. “Hang on…there.” This time he managed to pull out one of Skylar’s abandoned aprons. It wasn’t special, brown to hide the inevitable coffee spills. They hadn’t even bothered stitching a logo onto it, though there’d been plans.
Nick frowned and turned away from Emma under the guise of having to hunt for a hat. It’d been five years. He’d moved on, burned it all.Why am I even thinking about…?
“How’s this?” A sweet voice plucked him from his mad dig through stacks of sugar packets.
She’d rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, the chunky-knit sweater making her arms appear as slender as swizzle sticks. The apron string was so long that she had to bring it back around the front to tie it. Rather than a simple rabbit knot, she’d done some cute double bow. A long-buried urge bubbled inside of him to pull the fragile woman into his arms and forget all the ills of the world.
Closing his eyes tight, Nick banged the ball cap on his palms then looked at her. “For your…sweat and stuff.” He meant to say for her hair, but his brain churned at the silky hazelnut tresses caught under the apron’s halter. Before common sense could catch up, he reached behind her head and cupped his hand under her hair.
It wasn’t until he tugged her hair free, her eyes big as saucers, that it struck him how weird that was. Nick shoved the cap at her, Emma quick to catch it, and clung to the wobbly shelf.
He had a business to keep afloat, a fourteen-year-old to keep from doing teenage shit, and the mess with his brother. Last thing he needed, last thing he wanted, was to start upthatagain.She’s just passing through,he reminded himself. In a voice colder than he meant, Nick said, “I take it you have some experience in a cafe?”
“I’ve worked in restaurants, yes,” she said.
It was an easy guess. She’d started washing dishes like it was in her DNA. There were always pots to scrub in the kitchen. Nick jerked his head to the door and shoved it open. Emma trailed behind as he led her to the front. Before he stepped out he thought of another problem. “And you’re older than eighteen?”
Her startled gasp drew him to find her face shifting red. She bit her lip and looked down, the brim of the hat hiding a lot of her expression.Am I wrong? Ah shit, she isn’t a runaway, is she?
“How old do you think I am?”
“I know better than to answer that.” His thirty-five years came with some wisdom, at least.
Emma laughed with a snort. “Don’t worry, I’m twenty-seven.”
Way too young for him.That’s a good thing, right?
“Ah, good. ‘Cause I can’t keep you for longer than four hours otherwise. I mean not keep like in, but working. You can’t work more than… Do you have any questions?”
“What do you want me to do?” She bounced on her heels, her head barely popping above his chest. Damn, he could scoop her up into his pocket.
Nick winced at the stupid thought, deepening a scowl aimed at himself. “See those illiterate fools out there? Make them order anything else.” Before he tried with his fists.
Emma nodded as if she’d suspected as much. He pushed on the door, then stepped to the side to let the lady through first, but she paused. “Um…may I ask why they keep requesting a mistletoe latte?”
