“I do.” Not only had I worked at the Sleigh Café in my youth, but during the dry spells in my dancing career, I’d added coffee barista to my assortment of part-time jobs. I set about making Mrs. Willowtree the drink, opening and closing cabinets and the various small refrigerators as I looked for the proper mixing utensils and ingredients. Thankfully, nothing much seemed changed in the years I’d been gone. “Small, medium, or large?”
“Large. It’s got to get me through the morning.” She sounded apologetic.
“I don’t judge.” I quickly finished her drink. “What I don’t have is permission to ring you up though.”
“This should cover it.” Mrs. Willowtree handed me a ten. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.” I set the bill under the counter and turned to make my own morning beverage.
The bell over the front door rang again. And again. And again.
Who knew the residents of Christmas Mountain were up and about so early?
Nick poked his head out the kitchen door. “You shouldn’t have let anyone in. We’re not open yet.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I told everyone nothing but coffee until you’re officially open. Just unlock the cash register.”
He did, stocked it with cash, and then turned on the holiday music.Here Comes Santa Clausfilled the air with energetic frivolity.
I spent the next twenty minutes completing coffee orders, greeting old acquaintances, dodging questions about mystellarcareer in New York City, and well-meaning suggestions that I dance in the Christmas Extravaganza.
My mother should have been in P.R. I had quite a following here.
Carmen showed up to waitress when six o’clock rolled around, leaving me to the coffee bar.
“You still look the same,” Darla Marlow, Nick’s high school crush, told me. “Older maybe. I can see the stress lines on your face.”
Grrr. “Darla, you’re proof that some things never change.” Like her snooty attitude and superior smile. What had Nick ever seen in her?
“The good things never change, like Christmas Mountain,” she quipped, flinging her long blond hair over the shoulder of her chic red coat and making her exit on a nice pair of high-heeled, red boots.
Hungry patrons filled up the sleigh-shaped booths. Carmen took care of them. Customers in need of caffeine went directly to the coffee counter, entering in a steady stream. As barista, I had it good. There were minimal steps from the cash register to the espresso machine and large coffee pot to aggravate my foot. Eight o’clock rolled around and Holly encouraged me to take a break by handing me a plate of breakfast quiche and pancakes. I needed no encouragement to rest. My foot was feeling a bit swollen in my boot. Not painfully so. Just enough to make me aware of it.
Nick joined me at a sleigh table up front while his mother fulfilled coffee orders. He took one look at my face, and then reached beneath the table, taking a gingerly hold of my right ankle, and propping my foot on his thigh. “You should be resting.”
“Dancers don’t rest. We push through.” The same way I was pushing through the meal in front of me without one thought for carbs. “Your pancakes have only gotten fluffier. How fair is that?”
“I developed a secret recipe down in New Orleans,” he said proudly over the chorus ofHolly Jolly Christmascoming from the café speakers.
“Do tell?” I slathered more butter on my cakes. What was the point of being home for the holidays if not to indulge?
“My fluffy pancake skill is a secret.” He caught my attention with a playful look in his eye. “But you know…I’m the type who kisses and tells.”
My fork hung midair, syrup dripping onto my plate. How was I supposed to take that remark? If Nick hadn’t been my best friend, I’d have assumed he was flirting with me.
Impossible!
I set my fork down, fluffy pancake bite untouched because this felt like a pivotal moment, one where friendship had to be firmly established or lost in the mire of crossed-attraction wires. And his friendship was priority one. “The question begs to be asked… Who did you tell?” Or more precisely, who did he kiss?
Enquiring minds…
His lips were stretched in a smile and…
What am I doing staring at his lips?
I grabbed my fork and shoved that bite of pancake in my mouth, turning to stare out the window at the sunshine gleaming off snow on the town square. A fresh layer of snowfall had fallen during the night, and everything was covered in a smooth, white blanket. All shopper and tourist tracks had been obliterated.
And that’s what I needed to do with this unexpected dose of attraction to Nick. I needed to wipe it from my mind as if it had never existed. Our friendship was too important to me.