Things That Shine

by Bria Quinlan

  I watched Officer McIntyre get more and more annoyed and frustrated with Mr. Burgess and prayed that didn’t get transferred to me.

  “Mr. Burgess.” Officer McIntyre was obviously cutting him off. “We can have a quick discussion over the phone, or you can answer my questions when you come down to the station to pick up the suit… No, I won’t be bringing it to you. I’m not a courier.”

  There was silence on both ends of the phone. A stalemate.

  Behind me, the door opened. A wave of outside heat rushed in with the figure who stood there, shadowed by the sun. As the door fell shut, I made out the broad shoulders and little cop hat.

  Officer of Cuteness!

  “Max!” I rushed over and threw my arms around him. “They want to arrest me for being swallowed by a giant burrito!”

  “Emily.” He patted me on the back. “You smell horrible. Go sit over there.”

  Max pointed to the overstuffed couches by the empty fireplace. I dutifully headed there and sat, Abby coming to join me.

  “You called Max?” I asked.

  “Of course.” She looked at me as if not having my back wasn’t an option.

  “Thanks.”

  “Whatever.”

  We watched Max work things out with the other cops, feeling oddly as if we were under the protection of a local lord.

  Once everything was sorted—and I’d agreed I’d drop the suit back off that evening—the extra police left and The Brew fell silent.

  Max just stood there for a moment, doing his Man of Silence thing before asking, “Are you sure you’re not related to Kasey?”

  “Fairly, but anything’s possible, I guess.”

  He just snorted and left before I could thank him again.

  Just as I was getting my feet back under me, Prince of Gorgeous Hands was in front of me at the counter.

  “Wow, that was crazy, huh?” He gave me a little what-can-you-do smile.

  “Um, yeah.”

  He just kept grinning at me until he finally said, “So…coffee?”

  Oh. Coffee. Yeah.

  “Um…ah…” I really couldn’t deal.

  I did what any not-quite-sane woman would do after surviving burritos, commuter obstacle courses, the fuzz, and his Royalty of Hotness.

  I turned, walked right through the door to the kitchen, and hid in the walk-in.

  2

  Sage

  Sage sighed as the sliding door to the back closed behind Emily.

  Well, a part of him sighed. Sort of a wistful, reluctant, disappointed, and relieved sigh all at once. It was a smorgasbord of a sigh.

  It was all he could do not to declare “Foiled again!” Though that would probably draw the kind of attention he didn't want from Emily.

  He chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering if she’d come back or if maybe he should help himself to the coffee.

  He braced himself, pressing his hands flat on the counter. He could hop right over; it seemed sturdy enough. He’d have to mind the register; it was a smallish fit. Though, if Abby caught him, he was a dead man.

  Maybe not dead, but probably banned. A banned man. Which wouldn’t help him at all in finishing Mrs. Callahan’s new dining room or in getting to talk to Emily.

  Sage wasn’t willing to risk it. He’d wait.

  As if summoned by his caffeine addiction, Abby came through the doors and glowered. “Were you mean to her?”

  Sage gave his best Han Solo Who, me? look—lifted eyebrows and undeniable innocence.

  Abby narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you. Why else would my happy burrito be hiding in the walk-in?”

  Sage’s lips twitched, remembering the cop's accusation and Emily’s adamant denial. Because, obviously Emily was the poster child for food-costume theft.

  “What's the flavor today, Abs?” he asked instead of answering her question. Because he really didn't want to know if he was the reason Emily hid in the walk-in.

  Abby blinked.

  It was her version of pausing before saying something she wasn’t supposed to say.

  “They’re called roasts, not flavors,” she corrected patiently.

  Before he had a chance at a rejoinder, she turned, pointing to the board behind her.

  “Just like yesterday, and the day before, the roasts of the day are always listed right here.”

  “Yeah.” Sage nodded, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I know. But what does Morning Honey even mean?”

  “Oh.” Abby straightened her shoulders and a light smile softened her features. “The beans come from Costa Rica, where they are dried in the fruit instead of being stripped first. The roast is light, to preserve the natural flavor of the bean. It gives the coffee a refreshing, smooth texture. Perfect for the morning. It also makes an excellent espresso.”

  She measured him with her cool gaze. “Do you want to try something new today?” she asked.

  “Hit me,” Sage said with a nod.

  Abby smiled and spun around. She fiddled with the machines and under counter coolers with an ease and efficiency that was admirable. Like Tom Cruise in Cocktail, except without the alcohol and neon lights.

  She plunked a shot glass down in front of him.

  Well, it looked like a shot glass. Except it was square and twice as tall. But otherwise, yeah, shot glass.

  “This is two shots of the Morning Honey with a pump of peppermint in the bottom, and a pump of white chocolate on top.” She held her little milk pitcher over the glass and drizzled cream into the top, making the layers part and swirl.

  Sage stared at the prettiest coffee he’d ever seen. No wonder she got irritated with him and his boring black coffee.

  “What do I do now?” he asked.

  “You shoot it,” she deadpanned. “Like a man.”

  He took a deep breath, grasped the glass, and obeyed the woman.

  “Whoo!” he declared, slamming the cup back onto the counter. Heat rushed down his throat and into his body, followed swiftly by the cooling peppermint. “That's potent.”

  Abby grinned. “Right?”

  She filled his standard to-go cup with black coffee and rang him up.

  “Is that on the menu board?” he asked, counting out the dollars.

  “It’s just one of my own experiments.”

  “You have a gift, Abs.” He raised his cup in salute to her just as the back door opened to herald Emily’s return.

  Sage paused, his eyes briefly connecting with hers.

  He tried the cool-guy chin lift.

  She broke their connection, smoothing her hands down her apron before busying herself with a stack of cups that didn’t look like they needed to be straightened.

  Abby muttered something under her breath and Sage glanced back to the best barista in town. He lifted his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, turning away.

  Sage chuckled to himself as he made his way back to his table. He liked Abby. He liked Emily more, but Abby was pretty kickass, too.

  Two weeks ago, he hadn’t known this place existed. He’d discovered it in a desperate search for caffeine after his first day working for/with Mrs. Callahan.

  Emily had been the one to serve him.

  She’d made a joke about the particular light roast blend of the day, and he’d been coming back every day since.

  She hadn’t actually said much of anything to him since. Mostly she blushed (though he suspected she had no idea she was blushing) and stuttered (but only while helping him). She was quite outspoken and friendly to everyone else.

  And that’s what he craved.

  Her brightness.

  She was like a burst of sunshine, no matter the weather.

  Kind souls were unbelievably attractive to Sage.

  It was so normal to be negative these days. It took honest bravery to be sweet.

  It wasn’t only her kindness.

  Not by itself.

  Emily had depth; he could see it in her eyes. The blue ones she tried to hide behind dark square glasses and even darker lash
es. Just a hint of a song waiting to be sung.

  He flipped his sketchbook open to the hutch he’d been working on.

  Given the choice, he would rather spend his time off doing what he really loved—building guitars, writing music, and “loafing,” as Heather-the-ex had so eloquently put it the last time they had spoken. He liked to think of it as “not bludgeoning his way through life.”

  Since Double Blind Study was on temporary hiatus (or “I Hate Us,” as Mike had explained during a recent radio interview—which just meant the band loved each other, but even they were getting sick of how much they’d been in people’s faces as of late. Oversaturation for a band was bad. Like, bad. Hence the IHateUs.), Sage had gone back to what he knew—working for his dad’s custom carpentry business. It was basically second nature to him, and it paid the bills.

  He tried to focus on the sketch on the page again, but he lost interest when Emily crossed the café floor to clear a table.

  He shook his head, trying to concentrate on his actual work. He didn’t need to be flirting with the cute coffeehouse girl. It wasn’t professional.

  Sage lifted just his eyes and they connected with Emily’s. Her tidying of The Brew had accidentally brought her right to him.

  “Can I ask your opinion on something?” He seized the opportunity of her nearness.

  She frowned and glanced back to the counter, as if it were Home Base. “Uh, sure.”

  “Cool.” He flipped the notebook around and held it up. “What does that look like to you?”

  Emily flicked her eyes over the page swiftly while simultaneously flinching, as if she had expected something hideous to leap out at her.

  “Oh.” She took another look and stepped forward. “Well, I’m no expert, but I do believe that’s a place to put fancy dishes.”

  Sage grinned, flopping the book back onto the table. “Well, you’re not wrong. I guess I should’ve been more specific.” He circled the irises Mrs. Callahan had asked him to carve into the woodwork and leaned back so she could see better.

  Emily came closer and bent over the table. “Hmm...a dying bird of some kind...?”

  Sage barked a laugh and ran a hand over his face. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He began erasing the failed flower.

  “Did you draw that?” she asked, shifting the tray of empty mugs to her other hip.

  “Yeah.” He blew the eraser dust off the page. “Not my best work.”

  She straightened and her eyes connected with his before she blushed and stepped away again. “So, you, uh, draw furniture?” She was confused but not trying to sound mean about it, as if she were trying to figure out where this new detail fit in her knowledge of the world.

  Sage choked on his startled laugh. Her eyes got round and he immediately regretted his reaction. “No, and yes,” he spoke quickly, opening the sketchbook to show her the rest of the designs. “I sketch them before I build them. I’m a carpenter.”

  She tilted her head to the side, her eyes dancing over the sketches. The front door opened and another regular came in. Emily’s shoulders drew back and she flashed the newcomer a brilliant smile.

  “Hi!” she greeted, placing a hand on Sage’s shoulder as if to say good-bye. He wasn’t even positive she meant to do it.

  He watched her return to her place behind the counter and help the customer with delighted excitement. Every time.

  Sage took a deep breath of the sunshine that seemed to radiate from behind the counter and flipped his page back to the hutch.

  Hutches were a crapshoot. Too big, too small, too garish, too plain. This was his fourth attempt. Mrs. Callahan wanted more glass involved than he would like. He’d have to build the thing in her house. Moving it from his workshop would be too risky.

  He began to hum as he drew soft lines. Heavy here, light there, move this up, curl this in.

  “I brought you a refill.” Emily set a new cup of coffee on the table. He hadn’t even noticed he’d already finished his first one.

  “Thank you,” he said with genuine appreciation. He handed the notebook over. “What do you think now?”

  Her hands took the notebook and she sat down in the chair across from him. She studied it silently, her fingers moving over the lines with featherlight curiosity.

  “Oh yes, I see the flower now. You can really make this into life-size furniture?”

  His lips twitched. “I can make it any size, but life-size seems to sell better.”

  She stuffed down a giggle. “How?”

  Sage picked up his fresh coffee and shrugged. “A lot of math, good music, the right tools, practice.” He swallowed and took a chance. It wasn’t something he normally blurted out to people, but he wanted to—if only because he missed his dream job. “If you turn to the back, that’s what I work on when I have time.”

  She hesitated for half a heartbeat before flipping the pages to where he kept his guitar sketches.

  “You make guitars, too?”

  “It’s a little different from making chairs. I have to rely on the feel more than anything.”

  “Do you sell them?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Do you play them?”

  “Well, I have to make sure they work.”

  She smiled at his jest. A beautiful, soft all-Emily smile.

  And look at that. They were having a moment. An actual conversation where she wasn’t stuttering or blushing or hiding.

  Sage kind of hoped she didn’t notice. Not yet.

  “McNabb!”

  Emily stiffened, not having noticed the front door had opened. Sage twisted his head to see who had yelled his last name.

  Oh. It was Blake.

  Blake Diedrich was one of the guitar players in Double Blind Study. He had his own tech, but he often groused out loud about how Luke had better equipment. Sage would point out that he would gladly make a few guitars for Blake if Blake would promise to stop smashing them on stage. They were at a stalemate.

  Sage stood up, grinning at the tattooed rocker dressed in his customary vintage rock tee, beat-up jeans, and motorcycle boots. “Hey, Diedrich.” They met in the middle, clasping hands and pounding each other’s backs.

  “What are you doing here?” Blake asked, sauntering up to the counter where Emily had returned. “Just a large black coffee to go, darlin’.” He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and glanced at Sage. “I thought you were on the road with Christian Ridley.”

  Sage shook his head once. “Nah, I mean, he offered me an obscene amount of money, but it’s just not my scene.”

  Christian Ridley, newish rock star and lead singer of Riddle Me This, had a reputation for being all party all the time. Rumors of drugs and hookers and drinking were enough to make Sage balk. But the interview was enough to make him decline forcefully.

  Christian Ridley had been high as a kite and puked in his assistant's purse.

  The rock ’n’ roll cliché lifestyle wasn’t why he loved his job with DBS.

  “I can see that,” Blake agreed, placing his money on the counter. “Hey, that guitar you made for Lucy is finally seeing some wear. For ages she said it was too pretty to use. Now she’s so connected to its sound, I can’t get her to put it down half the time.” He turned to Emily as she handed him his change. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Sage felt his smile grow. “That’s high praise, Blake. Tell her I’m flattered.”

  “How about you make me one of those fancy guitars everyone keeps raving about?” Blake asked casually...too casually.

  “Will you promise to be nice to it? Not bust its guts all over a stage somewhere in the continental US?” Sage crossed his arms over his chest.

  Blake ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought about it. “Uhm...”

  Sage chuckled. “That’s what I thought. What are you doing in town, anyway? I thought you and Lucy had moved down south.”

  Blake grabbed his coffee and faced Sage more fully. “We’re in the studio this week. I was supposed to meet übe
r-publicist Lindy for coffee here, but he canceled. I figured I might as well get some caffeine anyway.” He checked his watch. “I should get back.” He clapped a hand on Sage’s shoulder on his way past him. “You might want to clear your schedule soon. We might be planning something fun.” He turned around and walked backward while dropping his sunglasses onto his face that was lit with a cheeky grin. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  Sage saluted with two fingers and watched the rocker leave. Those guys never stopped working. But he’d be lying if he said the thought of going back on the road didn’t sound like the greatest idea ever.

  He really needed to finish this dining room.

  “You hang out with rock stars.”

  Emily stood beside him, watching Blake leave.

  “Nah.” He looked down at her with a half-grin. “I work for rock stars. Occasionally.” He was about to explain the whole complication of being a luthier-guitar-tech-roadie-sound engineer when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. “Ah.” He pulled it out and saw Mrs. Callahan’s number. “I have to go.”

  Emily was already retreating behind the counter, their moment over but unfinished. Sage emptied the remainder of his coffee and collected his sketchbook from the table. He paused at the counter and tried to meet Emily’s distracted gaze. He spotted Abby peeking at them from the door to the kitchen.

  “Thank you for keeping my brain functioning.” He drummed his fingers on the counter, as if it were a regular way to end a conversation. It was obviously lame. “Good luck with your burrito troubles.”

  He thought about winking, but decided that was both cheesy and creepy at the same time. So he stared at her. Because that wasn’t creepy at all.

  “See ya,” Abby said flatly, finally coming out from her not-so-subtle hiding place.

  “See you later, Abs.” He nodded to the barista and moved his gaze back to Emily. “Thanks for the coffee, Emily.”

  It was the first time he’d used her name. It felt good on his lips and made him smile just a little wider as he gave a low wave.