by Taryn Quinn
“Where do you need me?”
Macy’s short hair was in frazzled spikes, telling me it had been a day already. She had three espresso pods brewing in the big purple beast that dominated the side counter. “Need a new batch of coffee in the carafes.”
“Got it.” I turned to the long counter and pulled off the magnetic timers and reset them for another three hours. Habit and auto pilot took over, even while Callum’s intrusive personality vied for space in my too busy brain. I hooked the long handles over my arm and gathered all four thermoses up and then headed to the kitchen to use the industrial-sized brewer.
I’d been working at the café since Macy opened it a few years ago. She paid well, and I could always pick up a shift when I wanted extra cash. Now she had a much larger staff, but I was one of the originals, so I always got first pick of the bonus shifts. I was also the one everyone called because I could never say no to adding more money to my savings account.
But all that was going to change.
My cosmetology certificate was finally going to let me move on the plans I’d been making for the last four years. My bulging notebook and Pinterest board would finally have an outlet. I didn’t have to only be the girl who washed hair and swept up clippings just to soak up real life experience at To Dye For, the new salon that had opened this year. I officially had my own booth rental as of Monday.
I would be hanging up my apron Monday after the morning shift and trading it for a smock—a really cute black one with pink Christmas trees on it—and a closetful of clothes I’d slowly been gathering to show off my true style. Not the jeans and array of café and pizza T-shirts that I wore most of the time.
The real me.
Would he be interested in that girl?
Ugh. No. I wasn’t interested in starting some fling with Mr. Charming.
I touched my lips. They still buzzed at the thought of him. Life was changing for the better, and there was no room for a hot artist with clever lips in my current plans.
Even if I almost wished there was.
Four
Six hours later, my artist shadow had moved from the main café to the the well-worn leather couch in the reading nook. He’d been busily scratching in his sketchbook, his gaze tracking my movements off and on. Just enough off that I didn’t call Sheriff Brooks. Stalking wasn’t sexy.
Callum, however, didn’t give off that creepy vibe. He was just intense.
Along with being charming, he could make small talk with anyone and everyone. It was an enviable trait, but it still pissed me off. Especially since every female seemed to fall under his spell.
Including Mrs. Gunderson who could talk a body into the ground and then shovel after them to talk some more. But he didn’t look bothered in the least.
I shot a glance over my shoulder at the chirpy laugh that came out of the older woman. Dear God, was she flirting with him?
Callum caught me looking and gave me a half smile that made every blood cell in my system go into overdrive before he refocused that obscene attention on Judy. There was no annoyance in his eyes, just a quiet friendliness that seemed to draw everyone into his sphere.
A few murmurs of gossip had fluttered through the air the first hour. That he was trouble and had been sketching in the park—what kind of man was he?
By the end of the lunch rush, he had a line of people waiting for portraits.
He didn’t charge, so Macy didn’t give him any trouble as long as he kept buying food and drinks. I’d also spotted him stuffing twenties into the tip jar at the register every time he got a coffee or tea. Was he trying to buy me off?
What kind of woman did he think I was?
Annoyed, I marched over to pick up the dishes scattered around him. A cookie plate with a few crumbs was stacked on his panini plate, and there was now a collection of mugs. I went around the back of the couch he’d made his mini office and literally couldn’t go another step.
On his pad was a perfect rendering of the book nook area, including the haphazard mix of Halloween and Christmas that was Macy’s aesthetic. From the perspective to the tiny details it was like a photograph, only far more clever. He’d added a few faces on the pink pumpkins stacked everywhere. Some were sweet, some reminded me of The Nightmare Before Christmas, and still others had a flair that was completely his own.
In the center of the portrait was Macy’s step-daughter, Dani, who was in her usual spot doing homework. Instead of her face in a book, he’d created a rendering of her climbing the bookcase in the midst of decorating the top shelf. She had a sweetly mischievous look on her face and a lock of hair falling forward from her sharp pixie cut that matched Macy’s.
“That’s amazing.”
I wanted to saw off my tongue. Giving him compliments would not move him along in any way.
Mrs. Gunderson shifted and looked over the top of the couch at me. “Isn’t he amazing? I’ve commissioned him to do my cats for Christmas.”
I pressed my lips together against a laugh. When it was sufficiently buried, I stepped around the end table and gathered his plates. “Is that right?”
Callum grinned. “They sound like rapscallions.”
Judy’s laughter filled the room. “Oh, you are so correct. I can’t wait. Are you sure that forty dollars is enough? It seems like your talent is worth so much more.”
He patted Judy’s hand. “Well, I’m here for a bit longer it seems.” The look he gave me could have melted my panties. “It keeps my skills sharp.”
“If they get any sharper, you’ll need to open up your own shop,” I muttered.
“Would you like that? Me here all the time?” He curled his long fingers around the handle of his mug and brought it to his lips. “Seeing you everyday would definitely make work far more palatable. I even got my own drink from Macy.”
“What?” I blinked and my hand stilled over the stack of mugs. “She gave you one?”
He grinned. “Is that something special? I had a feeling it was kind of her thing.”
“Yeah, but only if she likes you. And it usually takes at least five or six visits before she gives someone their own drink.”
“I didn’t have a choice in the drink. She just put it in front of me.”
“That’s how it works.”
“Hmm.” He took another sip. “Now she calls me Bourbon.”
“Wow.” Her bourbon-aged espresso beans weren’t pulled out very often. Then again, he had been stuffing big bills into the tip jar. Macy was often a slave to the almighty dollar. Charging him extra for her special blend plus all those tips… Well, how could she resist?
Especially since he was obviously a city boy of some sort. He probably wouldn’t notice the difference in cost.
Callum nodded to another coffee sitting just behind his stack. “That’s yours if you’d like to quench your thirst.”
I glanced down at the coffee. My coffee. It wasn’t terribly original, but when it came to Macy’s strong brew, I needed the sweetness of vanilla and milk with a dash of honey. Honey being her secret ingredient for me. It had taken two years for her to tell me what it was.
“Why did you get my drink?”
“For you, of course.”
“I’m working.”
“You work in a café. I’m pretty sure you’re going to drink the product sometime.”
I gathered the cups. “I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he called after me.
I picked up the pace and dumped the mugs in my bin and brought it all into the back. Macy was waiting there for me.
“So, what’s the story?”
“There isn’t a story.” I moved to the dishwasher and started stacking mugs and cups into the correct slots.
“Oh, there’s a story. He’s been sniffing after you for hours now.”
“Right. It’s been awhile. Shouldn’t you be heading home anyway? You never stay away from Michael this long.”
“He’s with Grumps for the afternoon. Don’t change the subject.”
I gripped the edge of the counter. “I don’t know why he’s still here.”
“Zzzt. Try again.”
I huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid, and he’s just being stubborn. He’ll go away soon.”
“Considering he’s spent about eighty bucks here, not including those big tips—I don’t think so.”
“Eighty? What are you charging him?”
Macy shrugged. “He keeps buying for all the people who sit for his pretty pictures.”
“What did Dani get out of him?”
“Double chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate.” Macy gave me a wolfish smile. “She knows how to play men. I feel that I’ll be in trouble in about five years.”
I laughed despite my own annoyance. “I think you’re right. You’ll have too much fun needling Gideon.”
Her grin widened. “I live for making my husband nuts.”
“What’s that like?”
She frowned. “You know Gideon.”
“I know.” I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“Uh-oh. Are you drinking the Cove Kool-Aid?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. I’m in no rush for the baby part, but I’m tired of the dating roulette wheel. I’d like a guy who isn’t into games.” I peeked out into the dining room. I could just glimpse Callum on the couch. “He’s got games stamped all over him.”
“Even in the granddad sweater?”
I let the door close. “Not sure I’ve ever seen a grandfather fill out the shoulders of a sweater like that.”
“So, you have been looking. I knew there was a story. I can always smell it.”
“Your nose should be singed from coffee.”
“Blaspheme.”
I laughed as I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “We had a stupid moment under the mistletoe at the festival last night. It was snowing and the twinkle lights were bright and there he was all chilled and out of place. Rosy nose and funnel cake powder on his coat. Then he just sort of…”
“Planted one on you?”
“Ugh.” I could feel the heat flooding my neck and cheeks. “Yes. I wasn’t expecting it, and he actually knows how to kiss—which is kind of a miracle compared to a lot of guys out there.”
“That’s a fact. Kinda how Gideon and I got into trouble. Though I was the one planting one on him.”
“On camera.”
Macy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, let’s not talk about that. Especially since it wasn’t the first time. Look, there’s no harm in finding out how it might go between you. I mean, he’s not from the Cove so maybe he isn’t afflicted like the rest of them. Just you know, wrap it twice.”
“Macy.” I twisted the end of my ponytail and wrinkled my nose.
“What? It’s true. Then again, we’ve had a few strangers wander through, and they still end up planting babies in unsuspecting women of this town. Maybe you’re right. Don’t hook up with the hot artist dude.”
“Right. See? That’s the smart thing.”
“Smart thing. Yep. You’re a smart girl.”
“I am.” I nodded. “See, you’re good at this stuff.”
“But…”
I tipped back my head. “No buts.”
“First of all—no, this is definitely not my bag. However, you not going to be under my daily watch anymore.”
“I’ll only be a few storefronts down. I’m not moving to Syracuse or anything.”
“Still.”
I grinned at her. “Maybe you’ll even let me cut your hair.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I do okay.”
I sighed. So much for Macy as my first paid customer. “That’s true. Someone must have taught you how to cut.”
She shrugged. “My mom was a hairdresser. It’s not an easy life. Then again, you’re used to being on your feet all day anyway. And I have a feeling you’ll be just fine.”
My eyes burned. “You think?”
“As I said, you’re smart. You don’t trip over your tongue because a hot dude smiles at you like a lot of the baristas who have worked here. If he gets your blood pumping, maybe don’t shut him down right away. You can go on a date like normal people.”
“I’m starting a new job.”
“Right. A job—not three like you have been doing. Just one job, like the rest of us.”
“You have two jobs.”
She waved me away. “I don’t count. I like both my jobs.”
“I love my job here.”
“No. You are very competent at your job and I appreciate that. But this isn’t your passion. I see you ripping pages out of the magazines left in the book nook.”
I flushed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I don’t care. I’m aware that people in town just like to dump their magazines on me from their kids’ school magazine drives. But I see your brain spinning, and then you’re off stealing my tape dispenser to play collage with your idea book.”
I winced.
She pulled out a little Moleskine notebook from her back pocket. “I have one too.” She shoved it back in her pocket. “It’s in code, so don’t think you can steal my secrets.”
A laugh burst out of me. “I would never.”
“Take a chance on the hot artist. And if you still aren’t into him then shake him loose. I have a bat under the counter if you need it.” She straightened her shoulders. “Now give me your apron, and get out of here.”
“I still have another hour.”
“Go. If you want to go upstairs to get cleaned up, I’ll make sure Dani keeps him occupied.”
I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. Handily, my apartment was above the café. I’d managed to snag one of the few one-bedrooms when Rylee moved in with her husband.
“Go on. Be a girl for once. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Maybe dinner would be okay.” I untied my apron and handed it to her.
She crumpled it in her hand, and then pointed at me. “And not at the diner. Come on, Vanilla, live a little.”
“Never thought you’d be a matchmaker.”
“Don’t tell Vee, or I’ll break your kneecap.”
“There’s the Macy I know and love.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She pushed open the door then paused. “Go through the back. Knock his socks off.”
I played with the thin gold band on my thumb. If I was going to be stupid, I should at least go all in. “Think Dani can keep him busy for an hour?”
“Can do.”
I sneaked out the back door near the Dumpster and hurried down the alleyway to the side entrance to the apartments. The brisk winter air was like a slap. I was definitely making a mistake. Then again, dinner was a small price to pay to get back my notebook and my scarf.
I’d get a steak out of him, at least.
With a side of hot kisses…
No. Just a steak.
Probably.
Five
I folded my arms and faced off with the kid in front of me. We were sketch battling in comic style—not my best medium, but I’d been a teenage boy long enough to have secret dreams of drawing Batman like most guys.
Dani flipped her pad around toward me. My eyebrows shot up. The kid was good. “How old are you?” I asked.
“Almost ten.”
“Damn.”
“You said a swear.”
I cringed. “I did.” I pulled out my wallet and withdrew a dollar. “Swear jar?”
She snatched it. “Sounds good to me.”
I was pretty sure her pocket was the swear jar, but I shrugged and looked down at my own paper. My superhero had a scrappy vibe that probably had more to do with the kid who had been amusing me for the last two hours than any talent of mine.
I showed her my sketch.
Her eyes widened, and she snatched the pad out of my hand. “Cool!”
“Guess we’ll have to call it a draw then.”
“Oh, mine’s still better. But this is awesome. Imma call her Ruby.”
I shook my h
ead. Oh, to have the self-esteem of an almost ten-year-old. “And why is her name Ruby?”
She shrugged and ripped off the page before handing me back the sketch pad. Then she handed over her drawing. “Whatcha gonna call mine?”
I glanced down at her surprisingly detailed dog with wings. “Looks like a Jersey to me. Lots of attitude.”
“My friend Jessie is from there. Definitely lots of attitude. Macy says she’s a bad influence.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “I think she likes her though.”
“Your…Macy, is pretty interesting herself.”
“She’s cool. She married my dad, and now I have a little brother. So, she’s like my bonus mom. You should go to The Haunt. If you’re not scared anyway.”
“The place next door?”
“Yep. There’s a life-size Michael Myers in there. And Freddy and Jason. There’s even a Swamp Thing. Macy let me put Santa hats on them.”
Her thought process was staggering. Then again, when it came to ‘kids’, the ones in my purview at the community college were mostly advanced teens, and they were still as random as their thought processes.
“Anyway. Thanks for drawing with me. It was fun. Way funner—”
“More fun.”
“Right. That’s what I said.”
I rolled my bottom lip behind my teeth so I didn’t laugh. She was something else.
“Way better than Grumps. He can’t even handle a crayon.”
“Well, that’s high praise then.”
“Not really.”
I shook my head and collapsed into the couch. “You’re tough, kid.”
“Yeah, that’s what my dad says too. Anyway, I really like your stuff. You can come back tomorrow if you want.”
“I can, huh?” I crossed my arms over my sketch pad on my belly.
Dani waved. “Gotta go pick up my brother.”
“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” I’d suddenly developed more interest in sticking around town, so the possibility was there.
“Maybe I’ll beat you at drawing again.”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”
I tucked my supplies into my messenger bag. If I stuck around, I was going to have to stop into Colette’s place again. I was about two-thirds of the way through the hundred-page sketchbook just from sitting here for a day. And while some of the pieces were throwaway warmup sketches, a lot of them were actually good studies that just might be something more.
