Chapter 5
Chapter Five
A dozen locals were lined up at the counter, eagerly awaiting their chance to sample the new drinks before the Brave Badge officially opened. Emily watched as her new baristas tried to keep up. Just a little over a week before the grand opening, and every person within a ten-mile radius seemed to have come for a taste.
The pretend-customers held white paper cups swirled with caramel or mint or maybe disappointment. An elderly man with gray wings of hair took a sip and scowled. “This doesn’t taste like what they told me it would,” he grumbled, and his wife agreed, tossing her own cup in the nearby trash can without finishing it.
Emily caught their exchange and filed it under one for improvement. Behind the counter, her barista trainees fought the good fight, slinging lattes and burning foam. Through the noisy chaos, one voice rose above the rest. “Surprising, that he could even rescue someone after his accident. And now he’s spending all that time with the new girl in town.” Birdie’s conspiratorial tone snagged Emily’ s attention.
“It isn’t nice to talk that way about him, Birdie. He helped that boy, and that’s what matters,” her husband Mason chastised with disapproval in his voice.
“Here we go, folks,” Emily said, catching a falling cup midair and handing it to one of the waiting people. She turned to the three baristas, whose eyes were wide and jittery. “It’s just a test run. This will show me what we need to work on next.”
Bryan—who Emily secretly thought looked like he belonged in a boy band—grinned sheepishly as milk sputtered from the steam wand. The other two rushed between the espresso machine and the counter, sending liquid sloshing over cup edges and nervous smiles to their customers.
“We’ve got this,” Sue said, pushing a cup toward a waiting woman with rollers in her hair. “Honey almond latte for, um, Fred?”
The woman frowned. “Name’s Edna. And what’s that floating on top?”
“Honey dust?” Sue told her, but the way her voice inflected, it sounded more like a question than an answer.
Emily laughed, spinning around to grab a towel. “Hazards of being the guinea pigs, folks,” she said to the crowd, some of whom looked more dazed than the staff.
Someone in a golf cap leaned over the counter with a doubtful look on his face. “What’s the West family’s stake in this one?” he asked, his eyebrows looking like caterpillars that couldn’t find their way. “They own everything else around here.”
Emily shrugged, keeping it light. “Not this place.”
She wiped a splash of milk off the counter, watching as her three trainees bumped into each other in a dance of confusion. She knew she shouldn’t find it so entertaining, but it was better than letting herself get angry at their incompetence.
Nearby, Edna’s husband sniffed at his drink. “Gingerbread? Smells more like burned toast.”
“I’m sure it tastes better than it smells,” Emily encouraged, but when he took a swig and grimaced, she knew she had been overconfident.
Conversations fluttered around Emily as the line shuffled forward. “Does it always taste like this?” a woman in a blue pantsuit questioned with a puzzled face.
“It’s...different,” her companion said like he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or not.
An older couple examined their drinks like artifacts from another era. “Faith Valley doesn’t need any more big city nonsense,” the husband said with a shake of his head.
Then, out of nowhere, Birdie Jackson’s voice cut through everyone else’s. “Why, if it isn’t the new girl,” she said, loud enough to be a public address system. “Look at her, settling right in.” Her eyes were sharp and assessing like she’d been a spy in another life.
“Careful, hon,” her husband said, his gray head peeking over the menu like a reluctant mole. “We’re just here for coffee.”
Birdie dismissed him with a wave, her bracelets jingling. “I heard about Mark rescuing that boy. Surprising he could do it after his accident.” She paused for effect, knowing that she gained several listens. “And now he’s spending all his free time with you.”
Emily nearly dropped a pitcher of milk. She hadn’t been expecting to be called out like that. It was true, she had been spending a lot of time with Mark, and they had grown closer because of it. She just hadn’t realized that others in town had noticed it.
Emily took a breath and tried to keep her focus on the controlled chaos in front of her. “You guys doing okay back there?” she called, even as a cup with extra caramel slid to the floor. She watched her newbie crew darting and dodging like squirrels prepping for winter.
“Fifty years I’ve known you,” Birdie’s husband grumbled. “And it’s a wonder I’m not deaf.” He ducked as a paper cup sailed past him.
“Oh, hush now,” Birdie said dismissively, unfazed and smiling. “Everyone knows I’m only trying to help.”
Emily wasn’t so sure about that. Birdie seemed bent on brewing up trouble rather than helping anyone.
Trying to distract herself, Emily looked to her trainees. “Keep the drinks coming, guys. You can’t stop until everyone’s been served.”
“Are you going to tell me how it’s going with the handsome shop owner?” Birdie persisted from the other side of Emily.
She wasn’t about to give the other woman any ammunition. “We’re just colleagues, ma’am. That’s all.”
With a last look at the crowd, Emily slipped into the cramped back room. The walls were close and reassuring, the distant roar of espresso fading to a dull whisper.
Mark was grumbling under his breath as he hunched over the laptop, his jaw set in stubborn angles as the screen blinked and mocked him. Emily caught the tremble in his hands, slight and not at all small, as they hovered uncertainly over the keys. He was yelling at the inventory program as if the sheer force of his displeasure could bend it to his will.
“You’re missing quite the spectacle out there,” she told him, an edge of amusement in her voice. “You sure you don’t want to watch? It’s a madhouse out there.”
But his look silenced her. Emily took in the shadows under his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders. He was raw around the edges, not the easygoing charmer who flirted without trying. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to check it out. Besides, you handle all of that better than I do anyway.”
The makeshift desk was cluttered with old invoices, a half-empty cup of coffee, and ink-stained paper. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered.
Mark sighed, his hands retreating from the keys as if conceding defeat. “Not unless you can figure out how to get this report to cooperate.”
“Here, let me take a look.” Emily reached across the desk, but before she could check out the software, she knocked over the cup of coffee.
They both reached to catch the falling cup and grabbed it at the same time. The incidental brush of their hands left Emily breathless and light-headed like she’d just done laps around the room. The world outside faded, as did the shop and the town and the gossip. All of it dimmed, like a house falling into darkness when the power went out.
Mark exhaled; a sound that carried more weight than words. “You here to get me out of this?” he asked, a soft jest to mask his vulnerability.
“Someone has to,” she gently teased, holding his gaze, daring herself not to look away.
He chuckled, a warm and tentative sound that wound its way around her. Emily sat next to him, her presence a quiet comfort, or at least she hoped so. Their proximity made it hard to concentrate. Her focus drifted from the screen to the way he watched her, a quick sideways glance that never quite returned to the laptop.
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and endearing. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Emily shook her head. “That’s because it’s worse, but I can help with that. Michelle actually used this same system back in Hero, so I’m familiar with it.”
His face relaxed, the tension turning into something lighter. The air between them was like a living thing, swelling with possibility.
“Here, let me take a look at what the problem is.” She reached over to take control of the laptop, causing their arms to brush against each other’s in the process. There was a jolt of electricity that surged through her, and it knocked her off balance. She felt the warmth of his skin and the rapid tempo of her own pulse.
The laptop remained between them, forgotten, as Emily found herself closer than before. Closer than she’d meant to be. Mark’s hand lingered, unsure whether to pull back or hold on.
She was acutely aware of him, the shape of his resolve and uncertainty. He was breathing, and she was breathing, and the quiet room filled with the sound of both.
Mark’s eyes were on her, and a question reflected in them, a wordless something she didn’t know how to answer. He shifted, his gaze flicking to her lips, then back to her eyes. It was a question and a confession, and Emily felt the ground slip away beneath her. She wondered if he would kiss her, if he even wanted to, or if the risk was worth the fallout. She wondered if she could stand it if he didn’t.
The tremble in his hands was gone, but she felt it in the air, in the connection between them. It moved through her like a current, reckless and inviting all at the same time. And then the moment shattered with a shout.
“Mark,” came a loud voice, urgent and deep. “Mark Merlot, you in here?”
They pulled back like two stars escaping collision. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it in the process .
Emily caught her breath and felt the walls rush back in, the world resumed its indifferent spinning.
“Mark, you need to get out here so I can tell you the good news,” the voice insisted, closer now. “Your heroics deserve recognition.”
Emily took a breath, and this time, it hurt a little. But she smiled, nodding toward the open door. “We should probably go see who that is.”
They were barely back in the main room of the coffee shop when the mayor came barging toward them, all loud intentions and nowhere to sit. He wore a suit that Emily suspected cost more than her weekly paycheck, and his tie fluttered like a patriotic flag.
“Mark,” he boomed, eyes sweeping the small room, “I came here to tell you that we’re honoring you at the town festival for what you did for my daughter-in-law’s nephew.”
Emily watched Mark absorb the words for several seconds before he shook his head. “I don’t want that,” he murmured, but the mayor wasn’t listening.
His attention skipped to her, eager to land where it could be appreciated. “And we’re featuring Brave Badge coffee,” he said, in the voice of a man who wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Emily could tell that Mark didn’t like the situation, but she knew it would be good for the coffee shop. “You shouldn’t pass up this opportunity to promote the Brave Badge,” she told Mark.
After a few seconds, Mark let out a heavy sigh with an expression full of hesitation. “I suppose for the coffee shop,” he finally uttered reluctantly, but he didn’t sound fully convinced.
“Your bravery saved a child’s life, and that should be celebrated.” The mayor’s words were loud and final, more decree than compliment .
Emily stole a glance at Mark, her curiosity piqued as she tried to decipher what he was thinking about. His gaze was anchored to a scuff mark on the tile floor as if this small imperfection could save him from the awkward situation.
The mayor’s wife joined him, her smile the sugary sweet to his savory bold. “Your coffee shop’s the talk of Faith Valley,” she announced, an accent of Southern charm making every syllable a little too kind. “Perfect for the upcoming festival.”
Mark finally looked up. “I just want everyone to know I don’t need recognition for what I did,” he told the group, each word a reluctant surrender.
“But we’re glad to have another hero here in town,” the mayor countered in a tone that was impossible to refuse.
Emily observed the intense exchange, her eyes keenly following the back-and-forth between Mark and the mayor. Mark’s resistance was visibly weakening under the relentless pressure of the mayor’s unwavering resolve, much like a lone sandbag attempting to halt the unstoppable surge of a flood.
“We have a booth assigned to your coffee shop. Feel free to work your magic on it,” the mayor’s wife added, like it was a present with a bow too big to return.
Mark sighed again, his shoulders slumping like they were weighed down by disappointment, a sagging testament to his defeat. Emily felt a pang in her heart at the sight of his dejection. She understood all too well the feeling of being held down by others’ expectations.
“It’s going to be worth it,” Emily whispered, nudging him with her voice and the warmth of her conviction.
His eyes met hers, and she felt the conversation shift, the quiet renegotiation of doing what was best for everyone else. She knew he would do it long before he did.
“Fine, I’ll be there,” he agreed with a frown. “But I won’t like it.”
The mayor beamed, and the whole room seemed to lighten under the force of his satisfaction. “Don’t worry. You’ll thank us later.”
Mark attempted to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Emily stepped closer, hoping to be the support he needed. “I’ll take care of everything,” she told him, wanting to unburden him as much as possible.
The mayor’s wife took her cue and ushered her husband away, their voices a fading echo of triumph.
“I can’t wait to tell everyone the good news,” Birdie shouted as she rushed out of the coffee shop with her own husband trailing behind her. “The spring festival is sure to be the best event of the year.”
Emily took charge, deciding to get everyone focused back on the taste-testing. But they had barely gotten underway before the townsfolk returned to chattering about Mark’s rescue.
A tall man with gray hair clapped him on the back. “We should’ve known you’d be the next hero in town, Mark,” he crowed, and Emily recognized him as the manager of the bistro on the Waterfront.
Mark’s eyes flicked to Emily, a plea disguised as a sideways glance. She intercepted before he could sink entirely. “He’s got a lot to do, but thanks for stopping by,” she said, stepping in with a polite but firm smile.
They tried to get back to work, but the next group swept in like clockwork. An older couple with lined faces and eager grins, people who seemed familiar but she didn’t really know .
Mark looked unsettled by the attention, his discomfort plain as day to Emily. He tried to smile, but Emily could tell it was a struggle.
“We don’t want to bother you,” said the older man, “but we wanted to say how impressed we are by what you did for that little boy.”
“Mr. Merlot,” said the older woman beside him, “you’re all anyone’s talking about in Faith Valley.”
“They’ll be talking about it for weeks,” the older man added.
Mark looked like he wanted to hide under the counter. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The minutes wore on, and Emily watched him grow more weary. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and marveled at how he had kept his composure, how he’d lasted as long as he had without bailing.
“I think that about does it for now,” Emily told everyone. “Thank you for coming and testing our drinks. We value the feedback so much.”
When the last of the customers and baristas finally left, Emily locked the door and turned back to Mark, watching him lean against the counter like he was trying to hold himself up.
“You weren’t kidding about how Faith Valley supports their first responders.” She reached for a paper cup and filled it with coffee. “This town really loves their heroes.”
He groaned, half amused and half pained. “It can be a lot.”
Mark took the cup she handed him, their fingers brushing, sending a small jolt up Emily’s arm. She swallowed, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. She sipped her coffee and tried to steady her breath. “What happened to you?” She didn’t even realize she was going to ask the question until it tumbled out. He looked confused, and she realized she hadn’t been clear. “I mean, when you were a search-and-rescue officer.”
He paused, the weight of her question clearly settling in on him. She could see him thinking, see him deciding how much to tell her. “It was during a mission,” he finally said, voice low and almost hesitant. “A little girl got caught in a flooded river. It was pretty bad.” Emily’s pulse quickened, imagining him charging into danger without a second thought. “I got her to shore, but my leg was busted up pretty bad in the process. Had to get it pinned back together.”
Emily felt a pang of sympathy, of admiration, of something else she couldn’t quite name. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“I have to admit, it was hard at first. But eventually, with God’s help, I made peace with it.”
“I’m glad you figured out what you wanted to do next,” she whispered. “The coffee shop, I mean.”
Mark nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, but she could see he wasn’t thinking about the coffee shop at all. “I didn’t think I would,” he admitted, voice raw and open. His gaze locked onto hers, searching for something, asking something she couldn’t yet answer.
They were standing closer, and all she could hear was her heartbeat, the way it drummed louder with each passing second. A gasp caught in her throat, and she wondered what it might feel like to close the gap, to let herself fall into him entirely. But before she could find out what it would be like to kiss him, the unmistakable rumble of a truck engine sliced through the silence, and she winced at the sound.
“Is this the Brave Badge?” a deep male voice called from outside, shattering the intimate moment .
They both turned toward the door, the shift abrupt and awkward.
“I’ll get it.” Mark made his way to the front entrance, his steps heavy, almost as if he was disappointed at the interruption. He opened the door to find a burly man in a worn-out uniform standing on the porch with a truck parked haphazardly in the driveway behind him.
“Afternoon, sir. I have a shipment from the Brave Badge Roasting Company. I’ve got a couple of boxes here for Mr. Merlot,” the delivery worker said, handing Mark a clipboard to sign.
Mark signed for the package and then opened the door for them to bring in the items.
“If you got this all handled, I should probably get going,” Emily told Mark, knowing it was better to leave before they crossed a line and jeopardized their work relationship. Mark nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
Emily turned to leave, her footsteps echoing in the quiet room. As she reached for the handle of the door, she paused for a moment and glanced back at Mark. He was already engrossed with the delivery. With a small, sad smile, Emily opened the door and stepped outside, the door clicking shut behind her as she left the day behind.