Page 6 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Every customer in the shop looked up. Even Daisy seemed to go quiet for a half-second as if enjoying the chaos.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I am SO sorry,” Kristy sputtered out, grabbing at a stack of napkins. She skidded around the bar, eyes locked on the sopping mess she’d made of his shirt. “Are you burned? Let me…let me get ice or?—”

Tanner’s face was pure murder for about a second and a half, but then something shifted. Maybe it was the way Kristy hovered, napkins fluttering, or the way her hands wouldn’t stop shaking even after the danger had passed.

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he grunted, dabbing at the wet patch. “Doesn’t even sting.”

Kristy tried to mop up the spill, but every napkin she touched turned to pulp. She was so mortified that she didn’t even care that her own apron was now spattered in someone else’s coffee.

“Seriously, you’re bleeding,” she blurted, pointing to a faint pink on his forearm.

He looked, then gave a derisive snort. “That’s a scratch. You should see what Daisy did to my knuckle last week.”

Kristy almost laughed, but the shake in her hands wouldn’t stop. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t watching. I had...a lot on my mind.”

“Things happen. I know that better than anyone.” Tanner looked right at her, and this time, his expression wasn’t angry.

Just...concerned, in a way she hadn’t seen before.

It caught her off guard, and she wasn’t sure what to make of the softer side he revealed.

But as soon as it came, it went, disappearing behind his normal grumpy exterior.

He pressed the napkins against his chest, then jerked his chin toward the hallway.

“Take five, Howard. I’ll handle the bar. ”

She wanted to object. She wanted to say, “I’m fine,” but the words stuck.

Instead, she nodded, stashed her hands in her pockets to hide the tremor, and ducked toward the break room. She felt all eyes on her, even as she escaped down the short hallway. It was the same feeling she’d get leaving the trauma bay after a failed code: hot, hollow, and visible.

She leaned against the wall, letting the cool paint bleed through her shirt. She listened to the distant hiss of Daisy, the thunk of the cash drawer, and the muted laughter from Rhonda up front.

Through the window in the door, she watched Tanner still blotting his soaked shirt and surrounding area. He looked more irritated by the mess than the burn.

Kristy wondered if she’d just become the new shop legend. The nurse who couldn’t handle a coffee rush. The ex-healer who broke things instead of fixing them.

She wiped her palms on her pants and tried to pull herself together.

When she finally returned to the floor, the mess was gone. No trace of foam on the bar and no drip on the register. Tanner was back behind the counter, clean shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked. “You good?” he asked, voice lower than before.

Kristy nodded, picking up a rag and joining him at the counter, hands finally steady. “I will be.”

There was an art to ignoring someone while sharing a workspace the size of a walk-in closet.

Kristy did her best to master it in her new environment.

She measured espresso, steamed milk, and even sprinkled cinnamon on the cappuccinos—anything to keep from meeting Tanner’s eyes.

The air between them felt charged, static from the earlier accident prickling up the back of her neck.

By the time Rhonda’s “fifteen-minute break” rolled into its final moments, the coffee shop was nearly empty, save for one old man snoring in the corner and a pair of EMTs splitting a scone by the window.

Tanner tackled inventory at the back counter, but Kristy could feel him drifting closer, like a thunderhead building behind her.

She was restocking the mini-fridge when he finally broke the silence. “You’re still shaken,” he stated, not a question.

Kristy closed the fridge. “Only about how much of your shirt I ruined. The rest of my day is a ten out of ten.”

He didn’t laugh, but she spotted the ghost of a smile. “You’re not that clumsy. Something else is up.”

She considered brushing it off, making a joke about caffeine overdoses and awkward Mondays.

But she was tired, and Tanner wasn’t the type to drop a question for the sake of politeness.

So she turned and leaned her back against the counter with a sigh.

“You ever get the feeling that no matter how far you run from something, it just...follows you?”

He considered this, mouth set in a line. “Yeah. All the time.”

Kristy looked at the row of syrups; their cheerful colors lined up like toy soldiers.

“I used to be good at my job. Like, really good. But I saw my old ER crew today, and all I could think was that I quit. I left them behind. I keep trying to tell myself I’m happier, but—” She shrugged.

“Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice. I’m still helping people, but not in the way I used to. ”

Tanner set his rag on the counter and leaned in, arms crossed, posture all cop.

But his voice was softer than she expected.

“After my accident, I thought I was done for. Couldn’t work Search and Rescue.

Couldn’t run calls. Every time I looked in the mirror, all I saw was the guy who used to be useful.

” He gestured around the shop. “This? It wasn’t Plan A or even B.

But it’s something. Feels like a second chance, most days. ”

Kristy’s eyes snapped up to his, startled by the honesty. “You really think this place matters? That it counts?”

He nodded. “A lot of guys who come in here have seen things they don’t talk about.

Sometimes a cup of coffee and a dry place to sit is what keeps them going.

” He paused, searching her face. “You bring something to this place no one else does. I’ve seen it.

Customers leave happier than when they came in. ”

A flush crept up her cheeks, half embarrassment, half gratitude. “That’s just because you make me clean the pastry case every half hour,” she teased.

He snorted, and for a second, the tension broke. “You can drop a latte on me any time if it means you’ll stop beating yourself up.”

They both reached for the same rag to wipe down the counter, and their hands collided. Not a gentle brush—more like a static shock. For a beat, neither moved. Kristy felt the heat climb from her palm all the way to her scalp.

Tanner didn’t jerk away. He held her gaze, green eyes steady and unblinking. “You’re not alone, Kristy.”

It wasn’t lost on her that it was the first time he used her given name, and that made it even more intimate somehow. She didn’t have an answer, though, not really, so she just smiled, genuine this time, and let her fingers linger a second longer than necessary.

The front door opened: a new customer. They broke apart, falling back into their roles, but something had shifted. The heaviness from earlier had lightened, replaced with something tentative and bright.

As she took the next order, Kristy felt steadier. The doubts would still be there, humming in the background, but she wasn’t drowning in them anymore. If anything, she felt more herself, stripped of the need to pretend.

She glanced at Tanner, who was already in motion—pouring, cleaning, checking the register with his usual intensity.

For the first time, she saw past the armor and recognized something familiar in his stubbornness.

A refusal to quit. A need to make things right, even if it wasn’t the way he’d planned.

When the rush hit again, they worked in sync. Drinks flew, pastries sold out, and laughter bounced off the wood-paneled walls. Rhonda returned and complained that she’d missed all the action, but Kristy just grinned and told her the morning had been “smooth as silk.”

The hero wall caught Kristy’s eye in the afternoon sun. She watched the faces glinting in their mismatched frames. Maybe she would never be a legend, or have a medal, or save a life with her bare hands again. But here, in this small patch of light, she belonged.

She looked at Tanner, who caught her glance and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Kristy smiled, foot tapping under the bar, ready for whatever came next.