Page 21 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Chapter Eleven

Kristy arrived at the Brave Badge before sunrise, her eyes gummy with sleep and her hair in a bun so lopsided it looked like an art installation. She stopped cold, mid-step, as the light fixtures blinked on. Someone had rearranged the entire shop.

The counter and the bar, to be fair, were where they always were—Daisy perched on top, gleaming like a diva, register across from her. But the rest? Kristy’s jaw dropped.

The old, hard-backed chairs and laminate tables had been pulled into groupings instead of the neat, school-cafeteria rows.

The pastry counter was moved closer to the door like Emily suggested.

The biggest change was in the far corner: a reading nook, complete with a worn-in armchair upholstered in navy and gold, a squat wooden bookshelf crammed with battered paperbacks, and three soft blanket throws draped over the chair arms like a hug waiting to happen.

A standing lamp with a stained glass shade casts a honey-yellow glow over the whole area.

The main floor was broken up with side tables for chess or cards, all topped with succulents in mismatched mugs. The harsh, flickering ceiling bulbs were gone—replaced with warm- toned track lights that turned every surface into something you wanted to touch.

Kristy’s first instinct was to hunt for a camera—this was a prank, had to be—but it was too real, too carefully done. She spun in a slow circle, mouth open, backpack slipping off one shoulder.

Behind her, a door creaked. Kristy turned.

Tanner stood at the end of the hallway, holding a mug of coffee and wearing the rarest of rare creatures: a new shirt. Not flannel, not faded. Charcoal, sleeves rolled. He watched her for a beat, his jaw moving like he was working out a calculus problem he hated.

“You did this?” she asked, pointing everywhere at once.

He shrugged, looking down into his mug. “Emily said we needed to make the space more inviting for...future stuff.”

Kristy floated across the room, running her hand over the arm of the reading chair. “You found this at the thrift store?”

“Rhonda’s cousin donated it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said her cats only puked on it twice.”

“Smells like lemon Pledge,” Kristy reported, burying her nose in the blanket. “And the bookshelves and paperbacks?”

“Rhonda said people kept asking if we had a reading area.” He shrugged, more sheepish than grumpy. “Again, all of it was donated, so I figured, why not.”

“It’s perfect.” She scanned the room again, taking it in as if it were a scene from a movie she was pretty sure she’d want to watch over and over. “I love the lights, too. You did all this in one night?”

He didn’t answer, but the way his cheeks colored told her yes.

She looked at him, really looked, and saw the effort it had cost him—not just the sweat and time, but the surrender of his old order. The sacred layout, the routines. The badge of pride he’d worn since the place opened.

She crossed the room, stopped a couple feet in front of him, and smiled. “I’m proud of you,” she told him, meaning every word.

Tanner gave a noncommittal grunt, but he met her eyes. “It’s just furniture and a few decorations.”

“It’s more than that.” She grinned wider. “It’s like, actual human progress. It’s a good look on you, Blaze.”

He huffed, but she caught the ghost of a smile before he buried it behind his mug.

She noticed the wide selection of books and was about to ask him if he planned to join Oprah’s Book Club when she heard the front door open. Kristy’s heart stuttered in her chest as she half expected Mark to saunter in, but no—this was a different kind of tornado.

Joe Griffin, founder of Brave Badge Roasting Company, entered wearing his signature Stetson hat and a duster jacket that belonged in a cattle drive.

He looked bigger in person than he did in the company photos—broader, more solid.

His face was lined with both sun and smiles.

Beside him, all edges and kinetic energy, was Emily Merlot, today in a leather jacket and boots that looked more expensive than Kristy’s entire wardrobe.

“Is this the famous Clear Mountain outpost?” Joe bellowed, scanning the room. “Looks better than the pictures. Hey, kiddo.” He winked at Kristy, who grinned in spite of herself.

Emily was already circling, tablet in hand, laser-focusing on every detail. She made notes, snapped pictures, and muttered to herself as she paced out the new floor plan.

“Morning, Joe,” Tanner greeted.

Joe shook his hand, then Kristy’s, with a grip that could juice an orange. “You the reason this place still has a pulse?” he asked Kristy.

She blushed. “I just keep the coffee flowing.”

“That’s what keeps the world going,” Joe corrected.

Emily finished her inspection and then turned to Kristy and Tanner. “This is excellent,” she told him, voice clipped but almost complimentary. “You implemented all of the suggestions. The reading corner is especially strong.”

She clicked a pen, marking something on her list. “We’ll want to adjust a little. These tables should angle toward the counter for faster service. And the new lighting gives the space a premium feel. Well done.”

Kristy caught Tanner’s subtle flinch at the word “premium,” but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just sipped his coffee, eyes set on the door like he was prepping for a tactical breach.

Joe ambled around, tipping his hat to the space and looking at the Hero Wall. He traced his fingers over the frames, then glanced at Tanner. “You’ve done good by your people. Don’t forget that, no matter what the numbers say.”

Tanner didn’t answer, but his chin lifted a degree.

Emily pointed her pen at Kristy. “You’re running point on the auction and dance tomorrow?”

Kristy nodded, suddenly nervous under the intense scrutiny.

“Good,” Emily nodded. “The schedule’s tight. If you need support, grab me. Otherwise, make sure the transition from auction to dance is seamless. We want everyone to walk out of the event with a reason to visit the Brave Badge after.”

Joe interrupted with a laugh. “Let the girl breathe, Emily. She’s got this.”

Emily actually paused. “Sorry,” she murmured, not really sounding sorry. “I get intense.”

“That’s why I hired you,” Joe told her with a pat on the back. “You’re the perfect bulldog. Once you get a hold of something, you don’t let go.”

The door opened again as Rhonda entered, hair spiked in all different directions and arms full of bakery boxes.

Within minutes, the shop was bustling with activity—Rhonda and Kristy prepping trays, Emily checking every logistical box twice, and Joe sharing war stories with Tanner by the coffee bar.

Kristy felt the nervous energy buzzing in her fingers, but underneath it was something new—a sense of belonging, of being part of a team that might just pull off the impossible.

As the sun crept higher and the first regulars drifted in, Kristy took her position behind the counter. She felt Tanner watching her from across the room, and when she looked over, he didn’t look away. He just nodded, almost imperceptible, and she smiled.

The day sped by fast, Kristy taking any dips in customer traffic to make last-minute calls for the fundraiser. By the time they were closing up the shop, she was certain they would be ready.

Joe clapped his hands and called out, “All right, troops. Let’s go see what you put together for the big event. We’ve got a barn to string up, a dance floor to prep, and a crowd to wow.”

Kristy looked at Tanner, excitement fizzing in her chest. “You ready for this?”

He grunted. “I’ll survive.”

Joe took the lead with Tanner by his side, surveying the street as if he’d single-handedly tamed the entire town.

Emily was lost in her phone, thumbs moving at a speed that would have impressed a teenage girl.

She didn’t look up as she walked, only pausing to snap a photo of the shop’s new window decal.

Kristy trailed after with Rhonda, content to bring up the rear as they climbed into Joe’s black SUV.

Even from a half mile away, she could see the rental trucks parked out front of the barn at the edge of town.

Volunteers moved in and out, and someone was already putting together a photo-op area at the entrance.

Inside, an army of moms from the PTA was arguing about tablecloth color, while a knot of high school kids balanced on a ladder stringing LED lights from the rafters.

Kristy’s brain instantly shifted into ER triage mode.

She weaved through the chaos, clipboard in hand, a force of nature in her yellow jacket and scuffed sneakers.

“You, careful with those cords—last thing we need is an electrical fire,” she called.

“Can someone check the outhouses? Make sure there’s toilet paper and not, you know, raccoons?

” She spun around and found the first mom in her line of sight.

“Where’s the auction stuff? Is all of it ready, or do we need to prep it? ”

The woman blinked, then pointed toward the back. “There’s a whole table of baskets ready to go—some of them are still shrink-wrapped, though.”

“I’ll find someone to handle it,” Kristy promised, already moving on.

She found the coffee and dessert table in the far corner, Rhonda and two helpers unloading box after box of supplies. “That’s a lot of Brave Badge Blend,” Kristy said, peering at the sheer mass of coffee beans.

Rhonda beamed. “If people don’t buy it, I’ll drink it all myself and go down happy.”

Kristy grinned. “I’ll join you.”

She turned around just in time to catch Tanner muscling a stack of folding tables.

He was in his element: sleeves rolled, sweat already darkening his shirt at the chest, muscles flexed, and face set in a look that was more focused than grumpy.

He moved through the barn with the confidence of someone who’d spent a lifetime in close quarters with disaster and came out the other side still standing.