Page 3 of Quit Playing Games with My Heart

Sam glanced to me, his eyebrows lifting a little, like he was impressed with the way I was thinking.

Obviously, I loved that.

He didn’t have a chance to answer me. Two things happened simultaneously. The woman gave Diccon her order, which necessitated me calling out, “Pumpkin spice latte with a dash of cinnamon,” in response to Diccon, then turning to prepare the order, and none other than Kyle Jameson walked in.

“Jameson,” Sam greeted the man, going all hard and tense. I didn’t mind the way his biceps flexed in the polo shirt he wore or the way his jaw looked even squarer as he moved away from the counter to meet the man.

That was all the exchange they had time for before Gilbert came striding out of the office like he’d been fired from a cannon. “Jameson,” he repeated Sam’s greeting, but saying the name more like it was a curse. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face in here when the racket and dust from that little project of yours has been decimating our business.”

Kyle Jameson pulled to a stop, raising his hands. “Whoa. Good morning to you, too, Gilbert.”

I glanced over my shoulder as I prepared the latte, wondering if we would get another heated showdown today. Gilbert and Kyle hated each other…or did they? No one was really sure. Diccon had shared a few weeks ago that he’d discovered the two men actually already knew each other, that they now played in the same pick-up baseball league, and they had possibly known each other in college. But Gilbert had been really vague about all of that when asked.

I might have worked at a coffee shop, but I knew tea when I saw it about to be spilled.

“You promised that you’d keep the noise to a minimum.” Gilbert stopped right in front of Kyle, arms crossed, glaring.

“This is a minimum,” Kyle said, mirroring his stance and his frown, not backing down. “It’s not like anyone can build an entire shop in complete silence.”

“You’re chasing away our customers,” Gilbert kept on him.

“They’ll come back as soon as the project is done,” Kyle insisted.

“Will they?” Gilbert sent him a threatening look.

“They will if your café is any good.”

We all caught our breaths at that. I got that Kyle was just trying to upstage Gilbert and challenge him, but he chose a way to do that that came far too close to insulting the café.

No one insulted Common Grounds and got away with it.

Kyle seemed to sense that. He dropped his arms and shifted, rubbing the back of his neck like he already had a headache that early in the day. “I’m doing the best I can,” he said, “but everything has its limits.”

“Foot traffic has been diminished by forty percent,” Gilbert argued.

“Can’t you put up more signs or figure out a way to draw more people in?” Kyle asked.

“Oh, so you’re a café owner now, are you?”

“Gilbert,” Sam said quietly, touching his brother’s arm in an attempt to calm him down. He glanced at Kyle and said, “We’re doing what we can, but we need you to do what you can as well. Is there any way you can hold off with the jackhammers until after the morning rush?”

Kyle shrugged. “We’re on a tight schedule. We have to do things in a certain order. But I’ll see what I can do.”

That was the best we were going to get. Gilbert wasn’t happy and stomped off. Sam turned to me with a tense smile, almost like he was looking for my approval over the way he handled the situation. That was heady.

“I’ll have a black coffee,” Kyle ordered from Diccon, maybe as a peace offering, or maybe because he really needed a coffee.

“One super black coffee,” Diccon called out.

“One super black coffee,” I echoed.

“One super black coffee!” Hannah sang in her amazing voice, completing the call and response and putting the entire café at ease again.

Routine was a blessing sometimes. And a plain black coffee was the easiest order to make. I had it poured and handed over to Kyle in a to-go cup in no time. Kyle acknowledged me with a nod, then walked out of the café with a frown.

We all watched him go as if we were waiting for a bomb to go off. Once he was out the door and disappeared around the dusty corner, the mood lifted a little.

“He’s nice,” Diccon joked with a lopsided smile.