Page 15 of Magic & Mochas (Tales of Love & Lore #1)

I scanned the room, and spotted Rasmus seated at one of the corner tables, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. I noted with some satisfaction that he was deliberately avoiding looking in Thorne’s direction.

Plastering on my best customer service smile, I stalked over until I stood right next to Thorne.

“There you are, Clove! Your employee here was refusing to go and get you,” Nyssa said haughtily, as if all service workers were beneath her.

It appeared Rasmus hadn’t told her about his little run-in with Thorne and his shadows yesterday. If only she knew what the man she’d just insulted was capable of.

“My employee,” I drawled, placing one hand on his bicep possessively, “knows better than to interrupt me on my break.” I looked her up and down scathingly, pushing down my lingering hurt. “What was it that you needed to talk about so desperately with me?”

Nyssa scowled, her eyes lingering on the hand touching Thorne. “I came to warn you.”

Thorne stiffened beneath my hand.

But I simply raised an eyebrow at the other witch. “About what?”

“To stay away from Rasmus. He’s mine,” she practically growled.

I laughed. “You can have him.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“You deserve each other, and as you can see, I am happily taken.” I wound my arm around Thorne’s, leaning into him. “I actually have a favor to ask of you, Nyssa.”

“You do?” The witch looked cautiously optimistic.

“Yes. You see, I am trying to go my separate way from the two of you, but for some reason, Rasmus keeps seeking me out.” I sighed dramatically, glancing pointedly in Rasmus’ direction. “Would you be so kind as to keep him away from me?”

“Gladly.” Nyssa snorted, but then gave me the side-eye. “But…aren’t you upset? I know you were the one who hexed his dresser drawer.”

I paused, and felt Thorne look down at me, silently asking if he should intervene. I gave his arm a squeeze. “Not anymore. Another witch would want revenge; I just want to be left alone with my cozy shop, my little espresso machine, and…my new boyfriend.”

I almost surprised myself, but I knew I spoke the truth. I had thought about taking revenge at first; but then I would have been stewing in my hatred and resentment, and the only person that would have hurt was me.

Thorne put his arm around me, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. Rasmus must have been watching us after all, because he suddenly rose from his self-imposed exile and stormed to the front of the now-growing line.

“With garbage like this on the menu, it’ll be a wonder if this place lasts longer than a week,” he sneered, holding his coffee up for emphasis.

All the conversations in the shop died a quick death. Every pair of eyes turned to the redheaded warlock, who started fidgeting uncomfortably. Nyssa looked mortified.

Had this cheater really decided to try and ruin my lifelong dream, my precious fledgling business that I’d poured my heart and soul into, because he was jealous Thorne had kissed me on the cheek? After he had cheated on me?

“It’s probably made with cheap beans,” he stammered into the silence. “The color-changing spell is juvenile, and only a real potions master like me could—”

A particularly muscular werewolf and orc abruptly stood up and faced Rasmus, who looked like he was about ready to wet himself—or fire off some ill-advised spells.

But before a fight could break out, Thorne vaulted smoothly over the counter, so that he towered over Rasmus. Wisps of shadow poured from his frame, pooling at his feet like a dark fog.

“Now hold on…” Rasmus swallowed nervously and backed up a step into his mistress, trying to avoid touching them. “I was only saying what everyone was thinking.”

“That’s funny,” I finally chimed in, after overcoming my initial shock. “I seem to remember you drank this particular brew down by the gallon practically every morning—and would giggle like a schoolgirl when it changed color. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”

“Seriously?” Nyssa was now scowling at Rasmus instead of me.

“That’s not— I can explain!” His eyes glanced wildly around the room, but he was met only with cold stares.

“If you’re not going to order anything else, I am going to have to ask you to leave—along with your mistress.” Thorne’s tone was nearly as deep and dark as his shadows.

Whispers and murmurs broke out. Nyssa and Rasmus both reddened, and she began tugging on his arm to usher him out.

“Fine! I wouldn’t want to waste a single one of my hard-earned dollars on this bean water anyway,” Rasmus spat, as he finally allowed Nyssa to lead him out.

“Don’t you mean your father’s hard-earned dollars?” I called after him.

To her credit, Nyssa managed to get him under control before he could retort and dig himself a deeper hole.

A few titters and chuckles echoed around the room, lightening the atmosphere. The orc and the werewolf sat back down, and it felt like a collective sigh of relief was released.

“Thanks.” I gave Thorne a tight smile as he returned to stand beside me—by walking around the counter like a normal person this time.

“Anytime.” His comforting presence made me feel like I could finally relax.

The person who had been waiting in line behind Nyssa, an older selkie and her granddaughter, finally stepped forward to place her order, which I made as speedily as I could manage. I handed over the croissant she ordered for her granddaughter, and she gave me a warm smile.

“You look like you could use a cup of tea, dearie,” she said, patting my arm comfortingly.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I think I’ve had about as much tea as I can handle for one day. Or lifetime.”

The older woman looked confused, until her little granddaughter tugged on her sleeve and whispered in her ear, “She means too much gossip and drama.”

“Slang these days,” the grandmother tutted. “Confuses us poor old folks to no end.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty-five, madam,” Thorne said suavely.

“Young’uns these days.” She waved him off, but looked quite pleased as she took her coffee and croissant over to an open seat by the crackling hearth, where her granddaughter promptly curled up happily with her treat.

“Sorry for the interruption everyone, and thanks for standing up for me. Free refills are on the house!” I announced.

A collective cheer went up, and I smiled to myself.

Losing a bit of money on my opening day seemed like a small price to pay for the scene I had just witnessed, and for the warmth that filled this room.

My customers had given me more than just help or protection; they had given me new hope, and the sense of community I had been yearning for, but didn’t know I needed.