Page 8 of Cocoa Kisses
I clear my throat and adopt a serious expression. “I’ll say I understand her concerns and have a talk with them. The harder call will be to Mr. Winters when I tell him they have to sell them with a warning label that using them might seduce Joyce Hardy.”
That sets us off again, the kind of laughing that’s much more than the situation deserves, but the kind that sometimes you just need. The kind that blows off stress. Like from Joyce Hardy’s weekly complaints.
This time when our laughter winds down, Levi sighs. “I’d rather negotiate with a warlord than deal with Joyce Hardy.”
“Well, sure,” I say. “There’s a chance you can get somewhere with a warlord.”
Levi grins. “You get me. But I’ll go over to the hardware store and talk to Mr. Winters for you, let him know that the local chapter of Indignant Church Ladies may be having words with him soon.”
“If you get me out of having to use the phrase ‘suggestive birdcalls’ with him, I’ll come to game night no matter how many emails I have to ignore.”
“On it,” he says, snagging the blondie Sara extends to him and heading for the door.
Sara fixes me with a speculative stare as the bells jingle behind him. “Tayvi is a cute couple name.”
“Nope,” I tell her. She’s always been in favor of an epic Bixby-Taft wedding. There are times when that’s sounded a little too close to wishes I don’t even speak in my own mind. “I’m going to go answer more emails.”
“Ugh, fine,” she says. “Go do your thing.” But she sighs as she bends down to retrieve paper goods to replenish our carryout supplies.
“You okay?”
She scrubs a hand over her face. “Yeah. Tired.”
“Not sleeping well?” She worries about Dean all the time.
“I sleep okay. It’s the worry every minute I’m awake that wears me out. Wait, that’s not exactly right. I worry about Dean every minute I’m awake unless I’m with the boys, and then I’m exhausted trying to wrangle those two.”
People talk about “herding cats” like it’s difficult, but managing the twins would be more like herding feral jackrabbits who also have an obsession with booger jokes. And boogers.
“I’ll go over with you after work and help with bedtime,” I tell her.
She reaches over and clutches my arm. “It’s not just bedtime.”
I pull her fingers away, laughing. “I know. Witching hour. I understand what I’m signing up for. It’ll be fine.”
She gives a small groan. “I want to accept, but I can’t do that to you.”
That settles it. “You’re not doing anything to me. Go upstairs right now. Turn your phone off. Turn my TV on. And I don’t want to see you again until closing.” I live in the apartment above the café—a major reason I chose this location—and I can tell how tempted she is to take the stairs behind the shop and disappear into my place for two hours of peace and quiet.
I sweeten the deal because what else would a baker do? “I want to. I’d like to take a crack at Rome and see if I can get him to tell me what his Christmas wish is. Go nap or binge Netflix or something.”
It’s the right move. She nods. “That would be good, honestly.”
“Cool. I’m on it. Give me your apron and get out of here. I’ll finish up and then we can head over to the house.”
She leans over to hug me. “Best sister ever.”
I’m a pretty rotten sister for begrudging her a hug from Levi when she’s trying to do so much, including help me. “Only sister ever. Now go.”
She almost sprints for the back exit. I love having my own place, and I love that I can offer it to her for some well-deserved rest. But anticipation for game night spreads through my chest like hot cocoa on a cold day, because I love being with my people, especially now that Levi is home.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. So much so that even my reply to Joyce Hardy gets a liberal sprinkling of holiday cheer, andthatis practically a Christmas miracle.
Chapter Four
Levi
“Welcome,Tafts!”Mrs.Bixbycries as she opens the front door. “Get in here before you freeze to death.”
