Biker Grinch (Motorcycles and Mistletoe #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Ruby

I skidded on the icy sidewalk as I hurried into the Cup of Heaven coffee shop, unwinding my fluffy white Christmas scarf as I went. A fresh six inches of snow had fallen last night, which was hell on my commute, making me late by over fifteen minutes.

But Christmas was only a week away. And all that snow would make everything magical.

Yanking open the front door, warm air blasted me in the face. The scent of peppermint, sugar, and coffee filled my lungs when I breathed in deep. After working for five years at the coffee shop, I never got tired of that delicious smell.

And I lived for the holiday rush.

Every table, chair, and booth in the coffee shop was taken.

Customers who couldn’t find a seat stood huddled together, sipping their hot drinks, taking refuge from the blistering cold.

Our little town was surrounded by mountains on all sides, which was breathtaking on a sunny day.

In the dead of winter though, the weather could turn on a dime, bringing screaming winds, buckets of snow, and sheets of ice.

I thrust an arm into the air with a wave, standing on tiptoe to be seen over the crowd.

“I’m here!” I announced.

Behind the counter, Marion Greene shot me a frazzled look with a smile of relief. She started this shop when she was about my age—nearly two decades ago now—hoping to create a quiet, cozy hideaway for people to escape the hustle and bustle of daily life.

Over the years, Cup of Heaven gained so much popularity that it became central to Juniper Creek’s community. Poor Marion was swamped with work, especially during the holiday season.

Shouldering my way through the crowd, I shrugged out of my coat and grabbed my Cup of Heaven apron from the line of hooks behind the counter.

“Where have you been?” Marion demanded in a playful tone. “Don’t tell me you stayed up late flirting with some boy over the phone again.”

I cast her a sheepish grin, sliding into position at the cash register. At twenty-five years old, I had a reputation around town as a shameless flirt. But it never meant anything.

“You can’t expect me to hang up on him when he’s whispering sweet nothings to me,” I protested. “But that’s not why I was late. It’s all that snow from last night’s storm.”

Marion hummed, skeptical.

“Oh, sure, blame the snow.”

“It’s true!”

She waved me off and gestured to the line of customers who were nearly out the door.

“Just lend me a hand, would you? Put all that boundless, youthful energy of yours to use.”

This was the part of my job that I enjoyed the most—greeting the customers, getting a glimpse of their lives through the tidbits of stories they shared with me.

I recognized the regulars who visited nearly every day, memorizing their orders by heart so I knew what they wanted before they uttered a word.

Other baristas came and went while I worked at Cup of Heaven. Most of them didn’t last a year before they were moving on to bigger and better things. Setting their sights on the horizon.

Meanwhile, I was still here. I never really entertained any aspirations to leave.

Cup of Heaven was like a home away from home for me, with twinkly fairy lights, and worn wooden floor boards scuffed by countless visitors.

The walls were covered with pictures of Juniper Creek, and pieces of art that showcased local artists.

It was a quirky little place, and it certainly wasn’t glamorous.

But it felt familiar, comforting, like wearing your favorite sweater. Soft, warm, and welcoming.

Just as I served the final customer in line, a flash of red at the window caught my attention.

A Juniper Creek Fire Department truck pulled up to the curb and a figure jumped out.

I grinned from ear to ear as my dad entered the shop, wearing his firefighter station uniform—dark blue pants with a long-sleeved shirt, and the fire department logo on the back.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he said. “Could you get some coffee for your old man and his buddies?”

“The usual? Or do you want me to shake things up and surprise you?”

“The last time you did that, I got a purple unicorn shake that tasted like bubblegum.”

I bounced on my toes with delight.

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled—a smooth, deep, pleasant sound. His presence was always so calm and steady. It probably came with the territory of being a firefighter, keeping a cool head amidst a crisis.

I was the spitting image of him, with wavy chestnut hair and chocolate brown eyes. Although he insisted that I inherited my flirtatious streak from Mom.

“Sweetie, I don’t know how to tell you this, but coffee is not supposed to taste like bubblegum,” Dad replied.

He patted his stomach, which had been getting softer around the middle lately, despite working out between calls at the fire station.

“Besides, I’m not as young as I used to be.

This fifty-year-old body doesn’t metabolize sugar that well anymore.

So, you’d better just give me straight black coffee this time. ”

I tilted my head to the side.

“With some…extra whipped cream maybe?” I coaxed.

He sighed with a look of fondness. Everyone said that I had my daddy wrapped around my little finger, and they were absolutely right.

“Fine. Extra whipped cream. And you can add those fancy white chocolate shavings on top, too.”

A victorious smile touched my lips as I put his order into the computer. Ever since I was a little girl, my dad and I had been thick as thieves. He let me get away with murder, spoiling me rotten. And I spoiled him right back.

Secretly, I worried about him though. Mom and Dad always stayed on good terms after their divorce. It was an amicable split and they co-parented me without bickering or saying a single bad word about each other, even in private.

But Mom remarried only a year after the divorce, and I think that messed with Dad’s heart more than he was willing to admit out loud. He never talked about dating again, never even considered it.

“So,” Dad ventured. “When do I get to meet this boyfriend you were talking to all night long?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied lightly.

Dad narrowed his eyes.

“Does he know that? Or are you stringing along yet another poor kid? Do you have any idea how many lovesick boys drop by the fire station with their tails tucked between their legs, begging me to get you to see reason?”

I shrugged, setting to work on his order. With thirteen thirsty firefighters waiting on their coffee, I had my hands full.

“That’s not my fault. I always tell them, plain and simple, that I don’t want to date them. We’re just chatting.”

Dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“God, Ruby. You’re a menace. What am I going to do with you?”

I laughed as I deposited a generous dollop of whipped cream onto his coffee, dusting it with the white chocolate he’d requested until it looked like a snowy little mountain peak.

I scribbled his name—Barrett Kent—in black marker on his coffee cup, with a heart and a smiley face. Then I handed it over.

“Come on, give me some credit here. I’m not hiding anything.”

Dad made a disgruntled noise.

“No, but it sounds like you’re baiting these boys by dangling the proverbial carrot in front of their nose.”

I huffed.

“I don’t know how I feel about my father comparing me to a carrot. Or bait.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, you little troublemaker. You’re cute, bubbly, charismatic…it’s easy to fall in love with you at the drop of a hat. And you—” Dad pointed at me with a mock stern look. “You are using that to your advantage to mess with these boys.”

I smiled sweetly at him, feigning an innocent expression.

“Last I checked, there’s no law against some harmless flirtation.”

Dad shook his head and took a sip of his coffee.

“Karma is going to bite you in the ass one day, kiddo. Some guy will sweep you off your feet, and you won’t know what to do with yourself when that happens.”

I gave a skeptical hum.

“We’ll see about that.”

As much as I enjoyed some playful banter, I still didn’t know what being in love was like. Of course all the attention was flattering. But I had only ever developed feelings for one person. And he was completely off-limits.

After finishing up Dad’s order, I stacked the coffees into cardboard carriers. Together, we took them out to the fire truck, waiting at the curb. I shivered in the icy air. A few flurries swirled in the bright sunlight, promising more snow later today.

“Thanks for the coffee, pumpkin,” Dad said, wrapping me in a bear hug. “I’ll see you at home tonight, yeah? Unless you have a date I don’t know about.”

“Nope,” I chirped. “No date tonight. You have me all to yourself.”

His eyes sparkled.

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll pick up something to eat after my shift so we don’t have to cook.”

Huddled in the cold, I waved as the fire truck drove off, disappearing around the corner. Moving back in with Dad was supposed to be temporary. Six months later, I still hadn’t made any effort toward hunting down a place of my own.

I used to rent an apartment with my best friend, Sierra. Since she got married last year, then bought a house with her husband, I was forced to find another roommate in order to pay rent.

That’s when Dad suggested I should just stay at his big, empty house. He spent so much time working at the fire station that he was rarely there. I had to admit that it was nice to live in a real house again instead of an apartment.

And secretly, I was grateful to hang out with my dad more often. After moving out years ago, we didn’t get to see each other that much anymore.

Just as I turned to hurry back into the warmth of the coffee shop, a familiar masculine voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re all grown up, honeybee.”

With a gasp of recognition, I whirled around.