Just One Kiss (Fool's Gold #10)(45)

“I’m a romantic. I can’t help it. One of us has to have a summer romance.”

“I’m fresh off a divorce. Any romance is up to you. What about that guy? Justice?”

Patience cleared her throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Isabel raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. You’re blushing.”

Patience ducked her head. “I am not.” But she was. She could feel the heat on her cheeks. “I like him,” she admitted. “But it’s confusing. Exciting, but confusing.”

“Good luck with that. I’m the last person you should come to for advice. I still have a tan line from my wedding ring.”

Patience sighed. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Me, too. But I’ll move on.”

* * *

“OKAY, so here’s the counter, obviously. And this is where the magic will happen.” Patience ran her hands over the large espresso machine. It was big and shiny and the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. At least in the mechanical world. Lillie was the most perfect in the life-form department.

“I know all the specs by heart,” she continued. “Want me to tell you how many cups per hour and the amount of milk we’ll go through making lattes?”

Justice leaned against the counter and smiled at her. “If it’s important to you.”

“It is but I won’t torture you. Not when you’ve said you’ll help me.”

There were the last, most recent boxes of mugs and plates to be unpacked. As the dishwasher wasn’t coming in until next week, they would also have to be stacked neatly next to the others in preparation for their professional sanitizing.

She turned toward the space that would be filled by a very large dishwasher and sighed. “Held up by a shipping glitch,” she said. “Mom and I decided that since we hadn’t picked an actual date for the opening, we’re going to delay it three days. That way the dishwasher will be installed and we’ll have more time to train the staff.”

She drew in a breath and pressed her hands together. “There’s going to be staff. Actual employees. And we have our food on order and the coffee is here. We’ll have intermittent times when we’re open for about a week, then the real thing.”

She turned to him. “You said you could make it. Is that still true?”

“Yes. My trip’s been cut back—I’ll only be gone a couple of days.”

“To the dangerous place you can’t name.”

His blue eyes brightened with amusement. “That’s the one.”

“You could give me a hint. Is it an island or a continent?”

“There’s a big size difference there. It’s a continent.”

“But not this one.”

“No.”

She tilted her head. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Fine. Be that way. I still owe you. You’ve helped so much. So when you’re ready to unpack your bullets or whatever for CDS, I’ll be there for you.”

“No bullets.”

“I thought you were going to have a shooting range.”

“Okay, some bullets.”

She beamed. “See. I can be helpful.”

It was a beautiful spring afternoon, with sunlight spilling in through the freshly washed windows. Crisp curtains fluttered in the breeze or would if the windows were open. Right now they were closed and the front door was locked. Patience had learned if she didn’t keep the place locked, people tended to wander in and ask when she would open. While she appreciated the interest, every conversation took time, which meant she was always running behind on her work schedule.

She looked at the tables and chairs, the humming cold case and the shiny floor. There was coffee for sale on the shelves, along with various coffee supplies. The last delivery of mugs, glasses and plates had come in. She’d hired some help, been instructed on using all the equipment and once the dishwasher made its debut, she would be ready to open the doors to her new business.

“I can’t believe it,” she admitted. “This is really happening. Did you see the sign?”

“I saw the sign.”

She clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “I love it so much.”

The logo she and her mother had chosen was a yellow oval with a red coffee cup in the middle. Adorable hearts graced the cup. “We’re going to have T-shirts and aprons with the design,” she added.

“You mentioned that.”

She looked at him. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m getting boring?”

“You could never be boring.”

She frowned. There was something about the way he was looking at her. An intensity. She couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but something was wrong.

She crossed to him. “Justice, what is it?”

“Nothing. We should start unpacking your mugs.”

She put her hand on his chest, as much to feel the rock-hard muscles as to hold him in place. “Am I keeping you from something?”

He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No. But you’re on a schedule.”

He wasn’t making sense. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”