Page 36 of Not That Ridiculous

Phil butted his head into my hip, reminding me that I was in the middle of something more important than latte bears. I pushed him back out of the way while he pranced a bit more, and set the bowl down. He immediately stuck his entire head in it and got to work.

I put the bag of kibble and the scoop away in his cupboard and went to wash my hands at the sink.

“Fair enough,” Kevin said. “Although I’m not young. I’m only a couple of years younger than you.”

I dried my hands and rehung the towel. “How old are you? Twenty-three?”

“Turned twenty-four in February.”

I snorted. “To me, you’re young. I’m?—”

“Thirty-one. I know. I know a fair bit about you, Charlie.”

The intent look in his eyes made me shift nervously. “Yeah? How do you know so much?”

“I’m an observant guy.”

I supposed that he heard a lot of gossip on the job, not least because Craig Henderson was theworst,and Kevin would be a captive audience most days.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I hear mostly good things.”

I pointed at him as I strode over to my Gaggia and switched it on. “You couldn’t even keep a straight face for that one.”

His cheeks had bunched up with his smile, eyes twinkling. “A lot of people think you’re kind of stroppy.”

“Eh. I prefer to think of myself as bad-tempered.”

He made a dismissive sound. “You’re not stroppy or bad-tempered. You’re just overworked.”

I stopped, startled, then continued on to the cabinets where I kept my collection of latte cups.

“And you don’t like people much,” he said.

I nodded, taking down a cup. “That’s true.”

“And you’re sweet and shy.”

I burst out laughing. “Sweet?”

Kevin was unperturbed by my hilarity. “I think you’re sweet. You’re always nice to me.”

“I actuallylikeyou, so—” I cut myself off sharply.

“I know you do. I like you too, Charlie. And I like that you’re shy. Think it’s cute.”

“All right.” I set the cup down by the machine with a crisp clink and turned to face him, hands on my hips. “I am not shy.”

“Mhm.”

I threw my arms up. “I’m not shy! I can’t be shy! I deal with people all day long! I have a customer-facing career!” I hadn’t chosen the customer-facing part. I wanted to make the coffee and run the business, not serve the coffee and chat. That was Amalie’s thing. Had been, anyway.

“Very cute,” he said.

I glared at him. He smiled back.

“I don’t think I like you after all,” I said.

“Yes, you do,” he said comfortably. “I don’t see you making anyone else latte art after hours. I’m special.”

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