Page 29 of Christmas Coffee

Celyn

Iprowl the interior of the mall, lapping it twice before checking the exterior lots. Shannon isn’t anywhere to be found. What a dick. I wonder if he ran off with the costume or got the shit beat out of him for walking around wearing that getup.

I run my hand across my temple and push my hair back, sighing. Today isn’t going as planned. Some parts have been unexpectedly good, but other parts—I can’t believe Quin hired Nova.

Right before I shove through the doors into the parking lot, my phone buzzes. A text message lights up the screen.

Quin: GOT HELD UP

ME: NO SHIT

Quin: NO, LITERALLY—I GOT HELD UP. CAN’T GET TO YOU TIL 2NITE. SORRY.

ME: U OK?

Holy shit. I have a million questions, but I’m guessing he’s fine if he’s texting me. He’s probably stuck at the police station, filing a report.

Quin: YEAH. ASSWIPES TOOK THE HUMMER.

ME: NEED ME TO PICK U UP?

Quin: NAH. TAKE CARE OF THE HOTTIES AT THE HUT FOR ME.

I smirk as I let out a rush of air through my nose. I nearly step in a puddle, but manage to avoid the icy water. I debate telling him about Nova. He’d commiserate about working with someone I nearly nailed. Walking out on her and not saying anything was a prickish thing to do, but I didn’t have time to tell her anything. Hell, I just met her. She’s nineteen. That number strangles me. If she were twenty it wouldn’t fuck with my head so much. A lot of shit happens between eighteen and twenty-one that sets the mold for adulthood. She’s still a kid, the plaster hasn’t even poured yet. It’s not hardening. She’s still got two years before she knows her ass from her elbow. At least, she should, but it doesn’t seem that way. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Nova was easily in her early twenties. The way she carries herself, doesn’t take shit from anyone, and acts on her ideals—no, it’s that last bit. The idealist within her is still alive. That’s what makes her a kid, she still dreams that things will be better.

Swallowing hard, I think about that part of her dying the way it did with me, with Quin. Being an adult means accepting things the way they are and making the best of it. For a second, I think I’m a fucking hypocrite because I don’t accept my life, my lot, or my uncle’s claim on Dad’s company. I’m fighting him on it. What the fuck am I going to do if this goes to shit? I glance up at the hut when I’m a few feet away.

The girl in the window is the link to my salvation. I feel the premonition roaring through my veins every time I look at her. I might be able to pull this off and it’ll be because of her. It sure as shit won’t have anything to do with Shannon.

Nova is speaking kindly to a customer, her face lit up. She must feel my eyes on her because she glances up and when she does I forget to breathe. Those green orbs are brilliant and filled with light that was sucked out of my soul a long time ago. For a moment, I forget she’s a kid, and just look at the woman in the window. A rush of emotion washes through me, tangled thoughts, and dead dreams. It’s as if they scatter into the far reaches of my mind and something in my chest feels warm and certain. If my crotch reacted, I could handle it. If lust raced through my veins and I wanted to pound her and make her scream my name, and beg me for release, I could fathom it—but this? What the fuck is wrong with me? I just met her. I can’t fall for her. It’s too soon, and I’m not that guy. I’ve been in love once and let’s just say it was a learning experience. I learned that I never want to go through the aftermath again. When something so good becomes something so bad, well, it’s unbearable. Maybe I’m a chicken-shit for not putting myself out there again, or maybe I fucking grew up and realized that’s just the way the world works.

I step in a puddle of icy slush and feel it seep into my boot. Damn. I repress the growl clawing its way up my throat and stomp on the steps going into the shack, trying to get the caked-on snow off my boots.

When I shove through the door, I shuck my coat, put it on the peg on the wall and tell Nova that it’s just us. She says a few things and I’m fine until she walks up behind me. I feel her there, and I don’t know what I’m thinking she’ll do, but I whirl on her.

Then I’m too close to her with my hands frozen, hanging in the air like a fucked up grizzly bear as I try not to touch her. It doesn’t matter though, because the moment her body brushes against mine I remember. I see her bare skin behind my eyes and feel the memory of her mouth on mine, pressing hard and kissing deep. It flashes like an old movie, sputtering for life. I crush the thoughts and plaster a fake smile on my face while I chant in my head ‘go away, go away, go away.’

Her face is close enough to kiss. She laughs awkwardly and backs off. I smirk and then turn around to face the window. I start taking orders and ignore her. I have to or I’ll do something incredibly stupid.

She’s watching me. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face. “Can I bring you back some lunch?”

“Nah. I’m fine. Go on.” My voice is clipped even though I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. Fuck. I don’t turn back to look at her. Instead, I scribble the next order and decide not to turn around. I don’t see her again until she’s walking across the parking lot, shoulder to shoulder with another woman with cookies in hand. They seem close and I wonder who she is, but then cram the thought out of my mind. It doesn’t matter.

Focus. I could kill Shannon for walking off. I have no idea where the asswipe went. The line is about half women and I’m not sure if it’ll work, but I grab my phone and pull up the picture I took of him this morning. I need his ass back here. Now.

I have no idea if this will work or if I’ll get slapped with a lawsuit, but there was a reason Quin hired Shannon. So I take Nova’ advice and address the crowd through the window of the hut. Leaning on the sill with both hands, I call out, “We’re having a contest at the Hottie Hut today. If you find this man and bring him back to the Hut, you get a free cookie.” I hold up my phone so the first few customers can see.

A woman not much older than me, standing further down the line, and cranes her neck. “Can I see?”

The phone is passed around and people start smiling and joking. Laughter bubbles up from the back of the line, which is now eight people deep. My phone makes its way back to me and I pocket it.

A woman at the back of the line calls out, “And if we find him, will you take our picture? I want him on my Facebook wall.” A few others giggle with agreement.

“Sure. Bring back the hot Viking and I’ll take the picture myself.” I flash my best grin her way.

“Can you be on the other side?” The woman winks at me. The ladies in line around her smile and watch us.

The brunette is someone I should be attracted to. She’s about my age with a killer body and the confident ease of womanhood. She’s comfortable in her own skin. There’s a poised smile on her lips and a set of round breasts under a fitted leather coat that hugs her body to her hips. She’s polished and sophisticated. She’s my type, from head to toe, but in that moment I feel nothing.