Page 7 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Chapter Four

Mid-morning at Brave Badge meant the after-school crowd was hours away, and the regulars had already rotated through their morning refuel.

Tanner liked it that way: less chaos, more control.

He could hear every hiss and click of the espresso machine, every shuffle of boots on the pine floor.

Light poured in through the south-facing windows, sharp and gold, turning the tabletops into something brighter than they'd been in their last lives as someone's barn doors.

The place smelled like it always did—roasted coffee, baking scones, and just enough burnt sugar from Rhonda's latest failed experiment to give the air a lived-in, non-corporate flavor.

He was refilling the pastry case, arms deep in cellophane-wrapped lemon loaves when the front door opened. Kristy was at the register, arranging the tip jar to favor anyone short enough to see over the counter. She looked up, eyes already bright.

“Look alive, Blaze,” she called over her shoulder, “VIPs at twelve o’clock.”

Aiden O’Connell walked in like he owned the place.

He didn’t, obviously, but command stuck to the man like dog hair on a white T-shirt.

His wife Lindsay came in behind, a long scarf bundled up to her chin, sunglasses perched on her head even though the mountain sun was barely in the sky.

She smiled the way people do when they enter a building and instantly recognize half the faces inside.

It was genuine but also strategic—a cop’s wife through and through.

Tanner’s first instinct was to duck. His second was to brace for impact.

Aiden wasn’t in uniform but might as well have been; he made even dad jeans and a pullover look like official gear.

The couple paused near the coat rack, and just the sight of them put the entire shop on high alert.

Table conversations dropped a decibel. An elderly man in the window seat straightened his posture, clearly hoping for a nod from the great Captain O’Connell.

Kristy had no such filter. She was waving like she’d spotted a long-lost sibling on a reality show. “Aiden, Lindsay, come in, come in. Table by the window just opened up.”

Aiden shot Tanner a quick two-finger salute, which Tanner answered with a grunt and a nod.

Then he turned to Lindsay, ushering her forward as if she were about to accept an award.

Kristy started prepping two cups before they’d even made it to the counter, fingers flying over the espresso setup, smile on full blast.

Tanner went back to his pastries. He’d restocked the scones twice, but people kept buying them, so he lined up another row, making sure the blueberry ones faced out. He kept his eyes on the tray, but ninety percent of his focus was on the conversation happening eight feet away.

“How are the kids?” Kristy asked as she loaded the grinder. “Still playing hockey, or did they finally get into something with less dental risk?”

Aiden grinned. “Hockey’s in our blood, Kristy. Besides, the dental plan is better than the one you had at County General.”

Lindsay took off her scarf and shook out her blonde hair. “He’s lying. Our oldest quit after last season and took up guitar. You should see Aiden’s face at recitals. Pure agony.”

“I can imagine,” Kristy said, and the two women shared a laugh.

Rhonda poked her head out from the kitchen, eyes going wide at the sight of Aiden. “Didn’t know royalty was here,” she hollered, then disappeared with a tray of cinnamon rolls.

Tanner edged out from behind the pastry case, keeping his movements smooth and steady.

He felt every nerve in his body switch from maintenance mode to high alert.

He’d dodged bullets with less adrenaline than this, but he wasn’t about to show it.

He made a show of checking the register, then sidled up next to Kristy at the bar.

“Cap,” he said, nodding at Aiden.

Aiden nodded back. “Blaze. Place looks great.”

Tanner shrugged. “All Rhonda and Kristy. I just fix what breaks.”

“That’s gotta be a full-time job with Rhonda around,” Aiden said, causing Tanner to let out a small chuckle, and for a split second, the old camaraderie flickered between them.

“I heard that,” Rhonda called out from the back. “And I resemble it.”

Kristy poured steamed milk into two cups without measuring the amount. “Americano for the Cap, vanilla oat for Lindsay, right?”

“You’ve got a memory like a steel trap,” Lindsay said, accepting the mug with both hands. “Thank you, Kristy. And I mean it, your sunny disposition was just what this place needed.”

“Is that you, Blaze?” Lindsay asked, pointing to a photo on the hero wall near the top—Tanner, in full SAR gear, snow up to his knees, hauling some frostbitten idiot out of a crevasse.

Tanner rolled his eyes. “Aiden’s idea. Can’t take it down, or Rhonda threatens to quit.”

“People like to see the legends,” Aiden said, and Kristy barked a little laugh.

“I thought you hated being called that,” she said.

“Only when Aiden says it,” Tanner shot back. Then, softer, “Besides, there’s better stories up there than mine.”

Lindsay let her gaze linger on the photos. “You know, I see a lot of those faces that don’t make the paper. The ones who deserve recognition for their sacrifice. It’s nice what you’re doing here.”

Kristy put two scones on a plate and pushed them forward. “On the house, for the town’s first family,” she said, and Tanner fought not to wince at the blatant generosity. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

The O’Connells took their seat by the window. Aiden set his mug down with military precision, then glanced back at the counter as if making sure Tanner was still watching.

Kristy leaned in, voice low. “He’s been in a mood since Tuesday. Something about the new chief, or maybe it’s just the weather.”

“Probably both,” Tanner said. “And he never liked being off shift.”

Kristy nodded, then busied herself with wiping the already-clean espresso bar.

The shop hummed along, but the center of gravity had shifted. Tanner could feel it in the way the regulars kept sneaking glances at Aiden, and the way Kristy moved a little quicker, like she was working at the hospital again.

Tanner looked at the hero wall, at the old photo of himself, jaw bruised, hair wild, but eyes locked and alive. He wondered if anyone saw that guy when they looked at him now.

Across the shop, Aiden was already mid-conversation with Lindsay, hands moving as he told a story. It was probably about a rescue, or a time he’d single-handedly saved a kid from a flood, or the day they’d all nearly frozen to death on a training exercise gone wrong.

Tanner looked away, but not before he caught Kristy’s reflection in the window. She was watching Aiden, but also watching him, trying to gauge his reaction, like she was still a nurse and he was her toughest patient.

He went back to the pastry case, lined up the muffins so they all faced forward, and took a long, slow breath. At least here, he could put things in order.

Tanner waited a full five minutes before making his move.

He could have stayed behind the bar and pretended to be busy with bean inventory or the minor leak under Daisy’s drip tray, but that would have been weak, and Tanner Blaze didn’t do weak.

He wiped his hands on a towel, smoothed the front of his Brave Badge polo, and crossed the room with the gait of someone who’d been stitched back together and didn’t want to test the seams.

Aiden spotted him coming and stood, which was either a cop thing or an old friend thing, maybe both.

Their handshake had always been the same—two hard pumps, a shoulder clap, and a half hug that said more than words ever could.

Tanner felt the heat of Aiden’s grip, the silent message: You’re not alone, even if you act like it.

“Blaze,” Aiden greeted. “Glad you decided to come over and join us.”

Tanner shrugged. “It seemed like you have something to say, Cap.”

“Sit, sit,” Lindsay insisted, gesturing to the bench across from her. Kristy was already there, perched on the edge of her seat, curls fizzing out in the static-charged sunlight.

The four of them filled the little table in a way that felt almost ceremonial. Tanner didn’t love being the center of attention, but with the O’Connells, it was like being in a huddle—safe, for the moment.

“So, how did you two meet?” Kirsty asked, nodding at Aiden and Tanner. “I mean, before the whole Search and Rescue legend thing.”

Aiden barked a laugh. “The legend thing started before we ever set foot on a mountain. Blaze here was the new recruit at Clear Mountain PD. First call together was a drunk-and-disorderly at the bowling alley.”

Tanner shook his head. “That guy could bowl. Never seen anyone land a 7-10 split while handcuffed.”

“Because you helped him,” Aiden said, wagging a finger. “Dragged him up there and lined up his shot. He got a standing ovation. And then passed out on the lane.”

Even Lindsay laughed at that. Kristy’s eyes crinkled at the corners, genuine.

“Sounds like you were the fun one,” she said to Tanner.

He fought a smile. “That was the old me. Now I just obsess about Daisy.” Then, realizing how that sounded, he quickly added, “It’s the nickname Rhonda gave the espresso machine.”

“That makes way more sense. I’ve been trying to fix you up on a date for years now. I couldn’t imagine you finding one on your own,” Lindsay said with a roll of her eyes.