Page 11 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Thank you for visiting The Coffee Break,” he said. “Be sure to come again and have a nice day.”

Martin growled at him before stomping through the door and across the patio toward the street.

Fisher shut the door and turned to Annie. “Who was that?”

“My rival,” she said, putting the coffeepot on a warming plate on the counter. “Martin Delgado.”

“Rival?”

“He just opened a coffee house, Mucho Latte, up the street. He’s been trying to buy me out ever since he bought his franchise, but I won’t sell.”

“How very uncooperative of you,” he said.

“Martin seems to think so,” she said with a shrug. “I hope you know that just because you live upstairs doesn’t mean you have to eat here.”

Fisher took a seat at the counter. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “The smell of cinnamon dragged me out from under the covers this morning. Henry was lucky I didn’t steal one of his muffins.”

“Then you’ll have to have one of my apple spice muffins on the house,” she said. “That’ll start your day right.”

“Annie-girl, you have found my weakness.” He winked at her.

“Sweet tooth?” she guessed, glancing away from him, but not before he saw the color creep into her cheeks. She was a blusher.

“I think sweet teeth would be more accurate,” he said.

“I kind of figured,” she said. “Judging from the way you devoured your dessert last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned. “If you keep feeding me like that, I’ll have to up my workouts.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she said. “Maybe you should only have half of a bran muffin instead.”

“Don’t be a tease,” he said with a mock frown.

“Annie!” A cry sounded from the back of the shop.

“I’m being paged.” She put a muffin on a plate before him and stepped away from the counter. “I’ll see you later?”

“Count on it,” he promised.

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “All right.”

“We have the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, right?” he asked.

“Oh, oh yeah.” She shook her head. “How could I forget?”

“You’re busy,” he suggested.

“That must be it.” She latched on to the excuse like a life preserver. Fisher frowned. Something was up with Annie-girl and he was going to figure out what.

“Annie!” Another cry sounded.

“Bye,” she said and hurried off.

“Bye,” he returned, but she was long gone. The woman moved faster than a jaywalker in oncoming traffic.

Fisher spent an hour watching her work the room. Scrolling through his phone, he studied her as she chatted with two businessmen at a nearby table. The October morning was cool, and she wore a snug pair of jeans and a dark green thermal top. Fisher frowned when he noticed one of the men checking her out. Why wasn’t she wearing that big flouncy apron she’d had on the day he’d met her? It kept her covered from neck to knee and besides he liked it.

One of the men said something, and Annie tipped her head back and laughed. Fisher felt his mouth start to curve up. He couldn’t help it. Her laughter struck him like a mallet on a chime. He bit the inside of his cheek and winced. He would not be charmed by a suspect.