Page 9 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Chapter Five

The door opened, and Kristy straightened, ready to meet the next customer with her best “I totally slept more than four hours” smile.

That’s when she saw him. Mark. Black hair, brown eyes, skin already tan from his obsessive morning runs.

He stood just inside the doorway, looking around like he owned the place or was about to audit it.

He hadn’t changed. Still wore that tech-bro pullover that screamed, “I’m too good for business casual.

” Still had the posture of someone who spent his days telling other people how they were wrong.

Kristy’s breath got snagged somewhere in her lungs. The smile she’d been saving turned brittle. She almost hoped he wouldn’t see her, but that was like hoping Daisy wouldn’t need descaling every week.

Mark made eye contact, then started across the room with a slow, practiced confidence.

He ignored the occupied tables, the regulars in the corner who waved, and even the family with a pair of toddlers who immediately began wailing for muffins.

Kristy’s hands, so steady two seconds ago, started trembling as she tried to load the portafilter. The grounds went everywhere.

She wiped her palms on her apron and tried to remember how to stand. Tanner, still at the register, didn’t miss a beat. His eyes flicked to Kristy, then to Mark, then back to Kristy. She could almost see his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“Kristy,” Mark greeted. Not a question. Not a surprise. Just her name, like a password. He let it hang for a second, then added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

She forced her face into neutral. “Hi, Mark.”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, casual but somehow predatory. “You know, I thought I’d check out the new coffee shop everyone’s raving about. Didn’t realize you’d traded scrubs for an apron.”

His voice was the same, too—just loud enough to carry, just sharp enough that the word “apron” sliced a little deeper than it should have.

Kristy felt herself flush, and not from the steam wand. She picked up a clean cup and nearly dropped it. She tried to will her hands steady, but they had other plans. The cup clattered against the drip tray, and a couple of the regulars looked up.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, keeping her tone businesslike.

“Americano,” he said. “Black. Just like always.”

She turned her back to him as quickly as possible, jammed the portafilter into place, and hit the button with unnecessary force. The machine vibrated. Kristy stared straight ahead, waiting for the coffee to brew, wishing she could be anywhere else than where she was at the moment.

Mark didn’t seem to notice her unease. “So, how’s the new gig? You enjoying the slower pace, or do you miss the ‘meaning’ in your work?”

Kristy bit her lip— hard. “I like it here,” she said, pouring the shot into a to-go cup. “People are nicer.”

He laughed, low and fake. “Sure. If you say so.”

The cup slipped a little in her hand as she placed it on the counter, but she caught it before it could spill. “Four eighty,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

Mark tapped his phone against the card reader, and the tip prompt popped up. He ignored it, of course, and gave her a smirk that made it clear he’d noticed the omission.

“Keep the change,” he said, even though there wasn’t any.

She didn’t respond. She just stared at the cup, willing him to take it and leave.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, still smiling that Mark-smile, eyes flicking up and down the front of her apron like he was looking for a flaw.

Tanner watched the whole exchange from a few feet away, his arms crossed, expression unreadable but not exactly friendly. The tension in the room ramped up by degrees. Even the toddlers stopped screaming, sensing the shift in the air.

Mark finally took his Americano, but not before leaning in just a little too close. “Let me know if you ever want to talk,” he said, voice low now. “I can help you figure things out. Like I used to.”

Kristy’s hands curled into fists, hidden under the bar.

“Have a nice day,” she managed.

Mark gave a little nod and drifted to a table in the far corner, where he opened his laptop and began typing immediately like he had a report due on her performance.

Tanner waited until Mark was out of earshot, then slid over to her side of the bar, close but not too close.

“You okay?” he asked, voice pitched low.

She nodded, “I’m fine,” but it was a lie, and she knew he could see it.

He let it go, for now, but she caught the look in his eyes—full cop mode, analyzing, cataloging, ready to step in if things got worse.

Kristy took a deep breath, smoothed her apron, and got back to work. But the sunshine in her day was gone, replaced by the heavy clouds she thought she’d left firmly in her past.

Mark didn’t stay at his table. That would have been too easy. Instead, he got up after a few minutes—just long enough to make a show of reviewing emails—and sauntered back toward the counter with the deliberate nonchalance of a man who needed everyone to notice how little he cared.

Kristy was busy with a regular, pouring a cortado and chatting about the city council’s latest attempt to ban drive-throughs. She tried to focus, but Mark’s shadow was already stretching across her workspace.

“So, Kris,” Mark started, voice a shade louder than necessary. “Is this a permanent thing, or are you just playing coffee shop worker until you go back to your real job as a nurse?”

The regulars glanced up, startled, but Kristy just pasted on her customer-service smile. “Can I help you with something, Mark?”

He leaned over the counter, forearms splayed, crowding the display case and Kristy along with it. “Just making conversation. When I found out you weren’t at your old job, I figured maybe the hospital cut staff, but...well, it turns out you quit.”

She swallowed, not liking how her throat clenched. “I needed a change. It’s been good for me.”

Mark smirked, and for a second, she remembered every stupid fight they’d had, how he could turn even an apology into a contest. “If you say so. Personally, I always pictured you running a trauma ward by now. Guess you don’t always meet expectations, huh?”

A flash of anger spiked through her, but she refused to let it show. “Can I get you a pastry or something?”

He didn’t answer. Just let his gaze drift up and down the menu, making a performance of it. “You know what, I’ll try something new. I hear the lemon loaf is great here.”

“Coming right up,” she said, voice tight.

Mark clapped his hands together like he’d just closed a big deal. “That’s what I like to hear.” He didn’t leave, though. He just stood there, watching her with his beady eyes, picking at every movement with a running commentary.

“You want to make sure to give me a big piece. Don’t be stingy,” he ordered. “And I want it on a plate, not one of those paper sacks.”

She tried to ignore him, but her hands betrayed her—a tremor she couldn’t control, causing a slight slip that sent the lemon loaf slicing unevenly. "Of course," Kristy managed, voice clipped.

As she worked to arrange the disproportionately cut piece on a ceramic plate, it tumbled back onto the countertop.

“Careful,” Mark said, his voice laced with faux concern. “Wouldn't want to waste good food.”

Kristy gritted her teeth, picked up the lemon loaf again, more carefully this time, and placed it on a plate. She slid it across the counter toward him. "Here you go," she forced out through a clenched jaw.

Mark took the plate, still smirking. "Thanks, Kris. You always were good at following instructions."

Her cheeks burned at the comment, a mixture of embarrassment and rising anger heating her face.

“But you missed some crumbs on the counter. Here, let me show you.” Mark reached toward her, and she jerked back out of reflex.

That’s when Tanner stepped up beside her. “You need anything else, or are you about done here?” Tanner asked, deadpan.

Mark sized him up, then gave a fake smile. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I know Kris from way back—she’s good, but sometimes her head gets ahead of her hands.”

Tanner didn’t even blink. “She’s the best we’ve got. And we like our customers to keep their hands on their own side of the counter.”

Mark looked around as if hoping for backup, but the regulars were now openly watching, and even the toddlers’ mom was eavesdropping from the muffin zone.

“Sorry,” Mark said, “didn’t mean to get in the way.” He edged back a step, but not enough to let Kristy breathe easy.

Tanner just stared, flat and unblinking, until Mark gave a little laugh and shook his head. “Didn’t realize you had a bodyguard,” he said to Kristy, this time under his breath.

“Just good management,” Tanner replied, voice cool. He took the baked good and placed it in a to-go sleeve. “Here you go. One lemon loaf to go. On the house.”

Mark took it, but not before giving Tanner a once-over. “You know, I always heard ex-cops had trouble adapting to normal life.”

Tanner’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t give Mark the satisfaction of a comeback.

A cold silence hung in the air for a second. Kristy felt her face burn as she watched Mark walk away. She wanted to crawl under Daisy and disappear.

"He always like that?" Tanner asked under his breath, nodding subtly toward where Mark exited the coffee shop.

Kristy sighed, a little puff of defeat escaping her lips. "Worse, usually," she admitted, keeping her voice low. "He has a way of making you feel small."

Tanner's jaw clenched at that, his protective instincts visibly surfacing. "You don't have to talk to him if you don’t want to. If he comes back, I can handle him."

She gave him a grateful look. "Thanks, Tanner." Her voice was sincere, warm with appreciation that went beyond his offer of help. It was clear that having an ally in Tanner made facing Mark less daunting.

“You need a minute?” he questioned with a look of concern.