Page 30 of Catching Trouble

She had a skewer in one hand; her tongue caught between her teeth as she dragged the metal tip through the drink’s foam. She’d tethered her russet curls into a haphazard ponytail, and somehow, wedged on a chef’s hat.

“Papa!” Sophie’s smileblinded me. It was such a rare event that I did a double take.

“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing around the crowd. I drew close, giving her a kiss on the side of her head.

She drew away with a grin. “Pooh… Papa, you stink of fish.”

I looked along the bar. “What is all this?”

“Chloe’s drawing everyone a picture in their coffee.”

I looked up. A few of the customers had cups in their hands.

“What do you mean?”

Before she could answer, another barrage of laughter pummelled my senses.

“Look,” she said.

I did, just as Chloe presented the cup she’d been working on to a beaming customer. Being taller than everyone, I leaned over to see what amused him.

She’d painted a picture in the froth, just like I expected, only this one was far more intricate than the cross face she’d gifted me on her first night. This one was of a man with a bald head, a sizable nose, and a moustache.

I drew my brows, lifting my eyes to the customer. It actually looked like him, and the corners of my mouth raised a touch. It was clever. A caricature. Not offensive, but amusing. The subject seemed to love it, roaring with laughter.

Then I looked at Chloe. She giggled, her freckled nose crinkling in delight. As if sensing my presence, she stopped mid-laugh, her eyes finding mine, then widening.

I took that as my cue to move, skirting around the customers, and stepping behind the bar. When I reached Chloe, her shoulders had crept up to her ears.

“Maxime,” she breathed. “I’m…”

“A word.”

Whether from the tone of my voice or the furrow that no doubt scored my brow, she tensed and nodded.

I led her round the back of the bar, away from the noise. We ended face to face near the entrance to the kitchen.

She nibbled on her lip. “What have I done now?”

At the downturn of her lips, my chest tugged. No. I had a point to make. “I asked you earlier to find something productive to do with Sophie, not to draw pictures in coffee to amuse a crowd.”

She considered my words before shrugging. “Or you couldlook at it another way. We’re covering interpersonal skills, business studies, home economics,andart!”

I wagged my head. How did she always have an answer?

“Regardless, I didn’t expect my daughter to be hanging around a bar. She’s twelve.”

“Nobody’s drinking, unless you mean hard espresso. She’s obviously having fun.”

I couldn’t argue with that. But Icouldimagine what Valerie would say if she found out. A shiver ran across the back of my neck. Visions of cameras hidden in the wine bottles or the lanterns on the tables flashed through my head.

Now I was being ridiculous.

“Please. Take Sophie home. Find something productive to do that doesn’t involve rowdy crowds and...”

“And fun?” Chloe asked, cutting me off. “I understand. I’ll take her up to the tower and she can read the dictionary. What a great use of her time.”

She untethered her apron, holding it out to me. My breath tightened. She stood in just her bikini, so close I could smell her summer-fresh scent and count every freckle on her nose.