Page 25 of Christmas Coffee

Celyn

Istand there, stunned. This girl can’t be my manager. That would be horrifying. I saw her perfect tits and walked away from that beautiful bombshell without an explanation. If she’s the vindictive type, she could make my life hell—or worse. She could figure out who I am and what I’m doing here. If she learns exactly what’s at stake, I’m screwed. It’s possible she’s not that petty, but I can’t have her coming between me and my fortune. I’ve worked too hard for this. My future is wrapped up in this hut.

Play it cool, Celyn. Don’t let her see you sweat. I wipe the shock off my face as I pocket my cell and crunch across the snow back to her. I stand below the open window on the frozen pavement, gaping up at her. “So, you’re not Erin.” It’s a statement.

As I gaze up at her, she shakes her head with that lazy smile still in place. One corner of her mouth is tipped higher than the other. She rests her elbows on the counter and leans forward on her arms, offering a spectacular view of her cleavage. I can’t tell if she knows she’s doing it or not. She has to know. How could a woman like that not be aware of it?

She blinks those long lashes at me and then juts out a hand though the window. “Nova Nikolaev.”

I swallow hard and reach for her palm without thinking about the touch. People shake hands all the time. It should be nothing, but it’s not. When her soft skin slips against mine the pit of my stomach drops and the tension from unfinished fucking laces though my entire body. I’m stiff, everywhere, and mute. I can’t do more than blink at her beautiful face. I feel like a goddamn idiot, caught in a siren’s trap.

Those smooth fingers lead up to slender, soft hands. They stand in contrast to her no-nonsense grip as she nearly crushes my knuckles. The handshake does something to me. It’s like her touch is going to end me. A sensation that’s warm and tickling spreads from my fingers, up my wrist, and into my arm. When it passes over my shoulder and into my chest it threatens to consume me. Gasping, I pull away sharply.

I steel myself, making my walls rise up faster, making sure they’re thick and impenetrable. I’ve worked with women before, I’ve seen scorned exes after the fact, and nothing like this has ever happened. I can’t act on anything I feel, not with her so young. It’d be wrong. Not to mention the whole, she’ll figure out who I am and the last thing I need is a complication thing, but that’s what’s staring me in the face—a fucking sexy complication.

I force my face into a harsh smile and ask through my teeth, “Why did you say you are a teenager if you’re not Erin?”

Her lashes flutter as she tries to avoid my eyes. She’s perched in the window and shrugs. “Erin? Who’s that?”

“The barista Quin hired. I thought you were her.”

“I’m not.” She smirks at me.

“Yeah, well, we know that part now. So, tell me about yourself, Nova.” A wicked smirk twists my lips as I stare at her like she’s the goddamned enemy.

She cocks her head to the side and narrows her gaze, annoyed. “I’m nineteen, not nine, and I don’t like it when people presume to know me based on a number. Life isn’t all unicorns and ponies. I’m not that girl. You don’t know me, so don’t act like you do.”

She visibly bristles and I get the same feeling from the other night. There’s a sharp mind and a wicked sense of humor beneath the beautiful face. I’m watching her, trying to make sense out of the anomaly in front of me when she raises an eyebrow at me.

“What?” She rights herself, and I notice that my eyes weren’t where they should have been—on her tits. Shit. I’ve been looking at her face. The tightness in my chest presses harder. I need space from this woman—this girl—but I need to stay here and go over things with her. I’m going to kill Quin when I see him.

This is business, so I need to pull my shit together and act like it. I can manage sharing the hut with her for a few hours. It’s not for that long, a few hours max. That’s possible. Just don’t tell her where you went or what’s going on. Let her keep her distance. She has no love for me, I can see that. Getting rejected like that had to suck. I am wondering where the hell Erin is and why she didn’t show up, but I tuck away that thought for later.

“Listen,” I offer, trying to reign her in a little bit so she’s not breathing fire at me later, “you’re right. I don’t know you…” I would have stopped there but this know-it-all smile rises up on her face and I keep going, “and I don’t care. This isn’t therapy, it’s a job. Do you want it or not?”

She flinches and then her eyebrows knit together and she narrows her gaze at me. “Yes.”

“Then we need to go over a few things.”

“I’m not the one who ran outside.” She smirks.

Running away from this chick is becoming a problem. I make a mental note to stop doing it to her. I won’t back down again. I won’t give way and let her pass. If she needs space, she needs to be the one to walk away, not me. I’m at the door and back in the hut. We get down to work.

* * *

I goover everything with her, one step at a time, expecting her to ask me to slow down so she can take notes with a pink sparkle gel pen, but she doesn’t. Actually, she doesn’t write anything down. She trails me as close as a shadow, looming without touching, watching me as I show her what I’m wanting—what we need to accomplish. My manager has to be on the same page as me for this to succeed. As it is, I don’t know who else will be on this panel that determines my fate, but I know if I do the entire thing solo, I won’t get jackshit. They want to see I can run a business and part of that skill set is handling other people. The manager is the linchpin between the staff and the owner. They need some insight into how I want things done so she can convey it to the rest of my new hires.

I was on the fence about telling the manager that we have to meet goals before, but this settles it. I’m not telling her the real reason. I’ll have to skirt the truth. This one will sense a lie before it comes out of my mouth. There’s just something about her in that regard. I wonder if I’m right. My guess is she doesn’t take crap from anyone and that she isn’t here on purpose, after getting stood up. By me. Fuck. What if she tracked me down and showed up here to sabotage me? I mentally scold myself. She’s a chick with a Chilton’s manual, not the devil. Cut it out. And trust your gut. Stop thinking like a dick.

Based on her disposition and that POS car out there, she’s broke. That’s why she’s here. “At the end of the season, if you hit ninety-nine percent of your daily goals there’s a bonus.”

She stares blankly at me like she doesn’t care.

I laugh and shake my head. “What, then? Money doesn’t matter to you?”

“Come on, Kelley.” She’s been calling me that even though I told her my name five times already.

I act like it doesn’t bother me. “It’s Celyn. KEHL-ahN.” I spit out each phonetic sound of my name.