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“Right.” I roll my eyes and slide the display door closed. “I need to go into the kitchen.”
“Okay, I’ll be here sweeping. If you leave me the mop, I’ll get to that after.”
I look over at him with furrowed eyebrows.
Who is this guy?
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, honestly. It’s giving me an outlet for the pent-up energy from sitting all day.” His smile is genuine and wide.
I sigh and walk into the kitchen area. Each morning, Elizabeth, the owner of The Bean, makes the food we’ll be serving for the day. I put away the extras and stick them in the fridge so tomorrow morning she can see what was left over.
After I clean up the kitchen, I head back to see Tristan mopping the floors and holding his phone between his ear and shoulder.
“I’ll be home in a bit. Want me to pick up dinner?”
Giving him privacy, I move back to the kitchen, but I run into the garbage bin by the door. It tips over in the loudest crash in the history of mankind, spilling a mess of trash on the floor. Tristan glances up and locks eyes with me. The way his gaze burns into me has my heart sprinting. Something has changed.
I scramble to clean up the mess so I can avoid him as much as possible.
“I’ll call you when I leave here.” He hangs up with a smile. “Sorry about that. It was my brother. Sometimes he goes all parental on me,” he says.
“It’s good he cares,” I say when I pop up from behind the counter. My hair is in my face, so I blow it away with my mouth since using my garbage hands isn’t the best idea.
“Yeah.” Tristan nods. “I wiped the tables down, too. I just need to mop behind the counter and the entrance.”
“I can finish after washing my hands.” I lift them in front of me and scrunch up my nose. “Go on home. You’re not even an employee here, and you’ve cleaned more than I have.” I wash my hands at the sink and walk around the counter. When I reach for the mop, Tristan pulls it toward him like a child who isn’t in the mood to share.
I tilt my head and arch a brow. Reaching my hand out, I give him my best glare, but it’s useless. He chuckles and moves behind the counter, mopping the small space and humming as he does so.
I roll my eyes—in a big way—so he doesn’t miss my reaction and walk to the door to turn the sign over to “Closed.”
“Eye rolls don’t intimidate me, wise Sage,” Tristan calls out.
“It’s scientifically proven that eye rolls invoke authority,” I challenge.
“Really?” He looks at me with raised eyebrows and a curious gleam in his eyes.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It should be, though.”
“I’m the data that disproves the hypothesis, then.”
Did he just talk science to me?
My heart jolts as I stare at the man who is definitely not a lazy hipster.
Once we finish, Tristan and I stand by the door, looking at each other.
“Thanks for your help. I could’ve done it on my own, but together, we got it done faster.” I shift on my feet.
“You’re welcome. It was good to feel productive and useful.” His lips press into a straight line.
“I’m sure you’re plenty productive with your job.” I wave at his messenger bag.
“Sometimes. I just need a few more things to work out in my favor.”
“I get that.” I nod.
