Page 231 of Problematic

His shadows twitched around his shoes. I giggled and covered my mouth before he could glare at me. Best day ever indeed.

“Lux, come here.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the drink station. “I’m teaching you how to make a triple caramel cookie frappuccino.”

Lux looked from the blender to me as if I had rolled a live grenade across the counter. “No.”

I slid the recipe card into his chest. “Cute. That wasn’t a question.”

“No one needs three kinds of caramel.”

“The customer decides what she needs.”

“The customer has chosen diabetes and is wrong.”

“You wanted to own a coffee shop.” I released him beside the blender. “Now you get to learn how to run it.”

He crossed his arms. The tiny apron rose higher. I tried to hold back but lost the fight with my laughter.

His eyes narrowed. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, I am.”

“I moonlight as an assassin. Customer service sits outside my skill set.”

“You killed six men in a freight yard without wrinkling your jacket.”

“Murder is easy, customer service is literal hell.”

I slid a blender pitcher toward him. “Milk to the first line.”

Lux picked up the milk carton and examined it.

“The first line,” I repeated.

“I see the line.”

“You’re pouring past it.”

He stopped. Milk sat an inch above the mark.

I stared at him.

He stared at the pitcher.

I took the carton away. “Two pumps of caramel.”

He pressed the pump twice with enough force to send syrup across the counter and onto his sleeve. Sam made a choking sound near the pastry case.

Lux watched caramel slide down his wrist. “Say nothing,” he warned.

“I wasn’t going to,” Sam said.

I handed him a towel. “Clean your station.”

His jaw tightened as he wiped the counter while muttering something about burning the building for insurance money.

I added ice to the pitcher. “Cookie crumbles.”

He held the scoop over the cookie crumbles and narrowed his eyes at the tiny measurement. “How many?”