Page 15 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)
Chapter Eight
The next day, the last of the regulars—a trio of high schoolers and the old Vietnam vet who lived for black drip—shuffled out with sleepy goodbyes and promises to “see you at the car wash.” Rhonda had gone home to “stress-bake” more muffins, which meant tomorrow’s cases would be full of flavors that weren’t even legal in some states.
The shop’s center of gravity shifted until it was just Tanner, Kristy, and Emily. For the first time since the day started, Tanner’s shoulders relaxed. He took a sip of his coffee—lukewarm and bitter, just how he liked it—and made his way to the whiteboard.
“Didn’t think anyone would stick around this late,” he said, nodding at Kristy.
She turned, startled. Her eyes were brighter than usual. “I’m riding the adrenaline wave. If I stop moving, I’ll pass out, and you’ll have to haul me out to my car.”
He snorted. “I’ll drag you by the ankle. Less effort.”
“Just don’t mess up my hair,” she replied, grinning as she shifted a sticky note two inches to the left.
The whiteboard was already half-full: headings in block letters “CAR WASH” “BAKE SALE” with bullet points and wild arrows scribbled underneath.
“Tomorrow, we start on the flyers and set up the event pages. I want the whole county to know.”
He set his mug on the counter, peering at the board. “You really think a car wash and a bake sale are gonna save this place?”
Kristy rolled her eyes. “Not alone, no. But it’s not about the car wash, Blaze. It’s about getting people here. Once they’re in the door, they’ll remember why they like it.” She paused, growing a little more serious. “I know this town. If you ask, they show up.”
He wanted to argue. He always did, with her. But the truth was, she was right. The meeting had packed the shop wall to wall, and half those people had offered more than he’d ever expected.
He found himself staring, just for a second, at the curl of her hair over her ear, the fleck of blue ink on her cheekbone, the way her eyes moved when she solved a problem.
She caught him, and he looked away, picking up his mug.
“I can’t believe how many people showed up,” he said, softer than he meant to.
Kristy’s smile was like the sun through a windshield. “That’s what community is about. People care, even if they pretend not to.”
Before the moment could stretch into anything awkward, Emily piped up from her lair at the corner table.
“You’re going to need at least five grand,” she called, not looking up from the screen.
“If you want to cover payroll and the overdue invoices and get ahead on rent, it’s five thousand minimum.
Bake sales and lemonade stands aren’t going to cut it unless you’re planning on selling them at a hundred dollars a pop. ”
Tanner glanced over. Emily had that cop-detective tone, the one that made every word sound like a verdict. “You always this much fun at parties?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Only the ones I’m being paid to attend.”
Kristy walked over, plucked a highlighter from Emily’s arsenal, and started scribbling on the legal pad. “So what’s your big idea, Corporate?”
Emily arched an eyebrow. “Get the media involved. Make it a spectacle. Use the local heroe’s angle. Get the hospital, the SAR, and the sheriff’s office. Make it impossible for people not to participate.”
“Already on it,” Kristy replied. She turned to Tanner, eyes wide. “You know the head of the hospital, right? Didn’t you save his nephew from a flood or something?”
Tanner grunted. “The kid fell in a drainage ditch. Not exactly a flood.”
She rolled her eyes again. “So? Leverage that. Get him to make the first donation. He loves press for the hospital.”
He mulled this over, unwilling to admit it was a good plan.
Kristy leaned over Emily’s shoulder, scanning the spreadsheet. “If we go viral, or at least ‘regional viral,’ and everyone brings a friend or two—plus matching donations from Erica’s network—we can maybe get close to that five grand. But we need something big for the kick-off.”
Tanner squinted at the page, then at Kristy. “You ever run a fundraiser like this before?”
She grinned. “I ran a blood drive in college and made it into a competition with the fraternity down the street. We doubled the goal and got banned from using the student center because we left the carpet full of cupcake sprinkles. So, yeah. I know how to move people.”
He huffed out a breath, not a laugh, but the closest he’d get. “Guess we’re in good hands, then.”
They all paused, the only sound the buzz of the espresso machine in idle mode. Outside, the lights from Main Street painted faint stripes on the Brave Badge’s front glass.
Tanner looked at Kristy, then at Emily, then back at the chaos of sticky notes and half-empty mugs.
This wasn’t how he’d planned things. He’d never been good at asking for help, focusing more on being the one to help rather than needing it himself.
But if he was going to be stuck in a storm, he was glad to have Kristy on his six.
He reached for the whiteboard, picked up a red marker, and wrote, in big block letters: “NEVER QUIT.”
Kristy laughed, then high-fived him, her hand warm and sure. Emily just nodded in approval.
For the first time in months, Tanner didn’t feel like the walls were closing in. They were just...waiting. For a fight, he might actually win.
“What about an auction with a dance after?” Kristy suggested. “The hospital has one every year, and it raises a ton of money.”
“You think we can pull one off in this short amount of time?” Tanner questioned with surprise.
Kristy nodded. “Like I said, I’m really great at making magic happen with not very much.”
“That could get you there,” Emily said in an approving tone as she stood up and stretched. “I need to take a phone call, but I’ll be back.”
Tanner and Kristy watched as Emily took off for the back door.
“Remind me, what’s the SAR team’s usual day off?” Kristy asked as she tapped a pen on the counter.
“Thursday,” Tanner told her as he turned to face her. “Why?”
“Thinking of doing a special tasting—have the guys come by, test the new menu for the bake sale, maybe get them to post on social media,” she said, tapping her pen on her teeth. “Word of mouth with those guys is gold.”
He nodded, hiding a grudging respect. Most people underestimated how much clout first responders had in a town like Clear Mountain. Not Kristy. She saw the angles. Sometimes, he wondered what she would’ve done if she’d stayed at the hospital. Run the place within a year, probably.
She glanced up. “Is this weird for you?”
He paused— mug halfway to the drying rack. “What?”
“Letting people help. Not being the lone wolf.” She smiled, not a tease but a real question.
He thought about it. About the years he’d spent shutting people out, about how much easier it was to focus on equipment and numbers and never let anyone see the cracks. He shrugged. “Not as weird as I thought it’d be.”
She looked at him, really looked, and he felt that heat again. This time, he didn’t look away.
Before anything else could happen between them, Kristy’s pen ran out of ink. She shook it, then launched it perfectly into the trash, where it clinked off a Coke can and fell in. “I should get a medal for that,” she jested.
“You want a medal for basic recycling?”
“Are you kidding? Have you seen my basketball skills? That’s a career highlight.”
Tanner smiled, real this time. He went to the back for more pens and found a drawer full of Sharpies that Rhonda had been hoarding. He brought the whole cup forward, setting it on the counter between them. “Here. For your next trick.”
She selected a green one and clicked it open. “We need to work on the car wash. What will make it stand out, really get people to turn out for it?”
“What if we partner with the fire department? Use their water hookups—they’ll love showing off the trucks. Plus, they’re always looking for good PR.”
For a second, Kristy just stared, and then her face lit up like she’d discovered a cheat code.
“That’s...actually brilliant.” She scribbled it onto her notepad, then circled it three times.
“We can do it on Saturday, post flyers at the high school. Maybe get some of the students to volunteer—if we promise them community service credit and free iced lattes, they’ll show.
” She reached over and slapped his shoulder, just hard enough to make him pretend it didn’t sting.
“See? I knew you were secretly a genius.”
He tried to hide the pride, but it snuck into his posture anyway. “Just spent too many years scrubbing bugs off cruisers. Old habits.”
Kristy wrote “CAR WASH—FIRE DEPT PARTNER” in huge letters at the top of the new list, underlining it with a flourish. “You want to MC the event? Maybe do a live demonstration of how to get blood stains out of a uniform?”
He choked on his coffee. “Pass. I’ll stick to logistics.”
She giggled, and the sound bounced off the empty walls, filling the space with something close to joy.
Rhonda showed back up, arms full of fresh baked goods.
“I ran out of room at my place for these. The bake sale is going to do great tomorrow.” She dropped them on the counter and then immediately started sorting.
“We should feature the ‘Brave Blend’ tomorrow, too. Highest margin, and it’s got the most caffeine.
Push the oat milk for the health crowd, and offer kid-sized lemonades to upsell the parents. ”
Kristy whistled. “Rhonda, where did that come from? Remind me never to play poker against you. You’re ruthless.”
Rhonda chuckled. “Only when I have to be, and this calls for it. I don’t want to lose this place.”