Page 39 of Protect Me
KATELYN
The rush of summer tourists breezed through the Frolicking Moose, which kept the hours steadily ticking by. I manned the espresso machine, scooped ice, called out orders, and enjoyed the waves of heat that came in the drive-through window after a chilly winter.
While crowds of people on their way to the reservoir occupied my attention, Bastian sat in the corner with his computer and an iced coffee at his fingertips. In the months that I’d worked here, he’d spoken less than fifteen words to me. He always had a brief smile, one that turned megawatt and steamy when Dahlia caught his eye with a sassy smirk.
On the other hand, Dahlia never stopped talking.
His presence helped me feel safe, however, so I never questioned it. According to Dahlia, this was his first summer not working as a wildland firefighter. Instead, he tapped away on a computer, doing who-knew-what.
In a temporary customer lull, I leaned against the counter and reoriented my brain. My thoughts drifted to Vikram, but I firmly yanked them back. No, I thought about him enough at home. I didn’t need to give him more mental space here.
Bastian perked up.
“There’s trouble,” he rumbled.
Dahlia and I whipped around to look outside. In the parking lot, Vik approached. His long hair flowed around his shoulders. He’d shaven, and the hollows of his cheeks looked soft, just waiting for his stubble to creep back in. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes.
I. Wanted. To. Die.
Dahlia passed by behind me, murmuring under her breath, “Why,” she whispered, “is he so gorgeous?”
“To eternally torment me,” I mumbled.
She laughed.
Hot air raced inside with him when he stepped through the doors. He yanked off his glasses, smiled at me, gave Bastian a chin lift, and strode to the counter with minimal limping from his left leg. His progress seemed to improve every day.
“Hey lady,” he murmured, eyes on the chalkboard. “What’s good?”
The wordladycaught my stomach. I forced myself to breathe through a rush of butterflies. It was Appa’s favorite nickname for Amma. The effortless way Vikram said it made me think he wasn’t even aware he’d assigned it to me.
“Ah, everything?” I gulped, then said more confidently, “Everything is good. The passion fruit tea is the special this week. I think you’d like it. It’s a mixture of green-and-black teas, with passionfruit syrup.”
Dahlia bounced to my side in a tank top with a picture of her home island, Tonga, across the front. She studied Vik with a practiced, critical eye.
“I got this, Vik!” she said confidently. “Matching people with their drinks is my superpower. You would enjoy a large green tea, double bagged, with creamer and cane sugar, because you don’t do artificial, but not too much of either, because you’re also a purist. Iced, of course, because it’s friggin’ hot outside.”
A huge smile wreathed his face.
“On point, Dahlia, as always.”
She brushed her shoulders off. “It’s what I do.”
Across the way, Bastian sent her an air high-five. She winked, and he sent her a look that suggested he’d devour her if she stepped too close.
“Coming right up,” I said to Vik.
He tossed a ten on the counter, his gaze steady on me. I wanted to shiver under the heat of his stare.
“How’s the day?” he asked.
“Not too bad.”
He lit up. “I got a job at the Outfitters, by the way.”
“Congrats!”
“I start in three weeks. Should be just right. I’m ready to be out of the house.”
