Bad Traveler by Lola Karns Read Free Book Online Page B

last-minute check of the product and cash register Monday morning, movement at the picture window caught her eye. Recognizing his coat, she waved to Kyle and crossed the beautiful floor he helped to install. The sleigh bells, picked up last week on sale, jingled as she unlocked the front door to let him in.
    “Technically, I don’t open for a few minutes, but it’s too cold to wait out there.” She flipped the sign to open. May as well .
    “Thanks. Looks like I’m your first customer.”
    As he took off his gloves, he flashed a lopsided grin that turned her legs to pudding. The tips of his ears were reddened from the cold. How long has he been outside?
    “I know what you need. How do you take your coffee?” She gestured toward a table, but he walked with her toward the coffee machine and stayed on the other side of the counter. “And that coffee?”
    “Black.” He looked into the glass-front display case. “Are those lemon-poppy muffins?”
    The sturdy white mug slid smoothly on the counter. Not a drop spilled. “I have a few samples today. Would you like one?”
    “Yes, please.”
    Using one of the waxed-paper sheets kept just inside the counter doors, she retrieved the best looking one. When she rose, muffin on plate, he opened his wallet.
    “Your money is no good here, Kyle.” Taking his money didn’t seem right, not after all he’d done to get her shop ready.
    His gaze locked with hers. She recognized intensity in his expression, one she’d describe as smoldering if he thought of her as more than a down-on-her-luck pal. Unable to force herself to look away, she fought the urge to kiss him.
    He spoke in a conspiratorial tone, shattering the illusion of desire. “If you give out too many freebies, you’ll never turn enough profit to buy food and clothes and a puppy for Chloe. Besides, I insist on paying. I want to be your first customer.”
    “I don’t think my parents would let us have a puppy. We’ll have to move out first.”
    “All the more reason to let me pay.” When he flashed those white teeth in a broad grin at her, she resigned herself to doing whatever he wanted. He unzipped his coat as she rang up the sale. “I also brought you something to celebrate your first customer.”
    “Really?”
    From somewhere deep inside his coat, he pulled out an empty black photo frame. “I thought you might like to frame your first dollar for luck.”
    His thoughtfulness impressed her. She loved restaurants that displayed a memory of their first sale. It reassured her about the business.
    “Thank you! You’ll have to sign the bill, of course.”
    He pulled out a Sharpie and looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.
    “You are too much, Kyle Collins!” The jingling of bells announced the entrance of another customer, double parked in front, but intrigued by the new business.
    As the days ground on, the local population was more interested in baking their own holiday cookies than buying hers. Business will pick up when the students return . She might close during spring break to avoid the same problem. Then again, she owned a secret weapon. Her competitor, the campus coffee bar, closed when classes weren’t in session.
    A member of the city government came by Wednesday to check the licenses on an unfamiliar business. “That’s a nice-looking machine you have back there. Can I get a latte?”
    “Sorry, I can’t make one for you. I don’t have a level-four business permit to allow me to sell perishables.”
    “Right answer, although I’m sorry to hear it.” Forty minutes later, he returned with another man, a thermometer, and a flashlight. By the end of the day, she displayed a city-issued temporary license valid for thirty days, or until the state inspector came through—whichever came first. She suspected the latter since she was on day eight of waiting for the state inspection.
    Word of her espresso maker increased business on Thursday and Friday. Her fully automatic wasn’t the fastest