Espresso (A Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read online

  “Probably,” said Dee enthusiastically.

  Tate fought his smile. “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Not even a little.”

  Tate laughed. “What if I come down…”

  “No way, hombre,” said Dee, holding up his hands. “I can’t authorize that.”

  “Look, Dee, Zion and I are adults.”

  “Dude, you kissed her in front of everyone.”

  “I know, but…”

  “When she was going away with another dude.”

  “Right, but…”

  “And she had to break it off with the other dude.”

  Bill Stanley made a disapproving noise, drawing both of their attention.

  Tate pushed up his ball cap, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, what if Bill comes down?”

  Deimos considered that, studying Bill, while Bill studied him in return. Then Dee leaned toward Tate and whispered, “I don’t think he likes me.”

  Tate held out his hands. “Then I don’t know what to do about this.”

  Dee held up his index finger, pointing it at Tate. “Tell you what. I got a key now. I’ll sneak you in after the coffee shop closes and Zion goes home. She’s working late tonight, doing the books. What do you say? We can be like little fixit elves and get it done before she comes in the next morning. You know, like that fable about the guy who makes shoes and the elves come in to make the shoes for him while he sleeps.”

  “The Elves and the Shoemaker,” Tate told him.

  “Right.” Dee scrunched up his face. “That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think? The title, I mean. It’s a little disappointing.”

  Tate shrugged. “It was a simpler time.”

  “True that,” said Dee, scratching at his blond head. “So, how about tonight and you can bring the Phillip thingy and the valve whatchamacallit.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll text you when Zion leaves.”

  “Fine.” The whole situation made him sad, but he shoved it aside. He had to stop getting his hopes up where she was concerned. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

  Dee backed to the door. “Later, Tate dude.”

  “Later, Dee.”

  Then Dee was gone.

  * * *

  Bill left at 2:00. Usually that meant that Tate would be by himself for an hour until Logan came in, but there was no Logan today. He fussed with straightening the shelves and helped a few customers that wandered in, then he pulled out his glasses and put them on, dragging a stool behind the counter and opening the paperback he’d stashed on the shelves for just such an occasion.

  For some reason, he gravitated toward mysteries, which always frustrated him. He usually figured out who done it before the investigators in the story did, but he still kept picking them. Maybe it was his past as a cop, maybe it was his innate need to figure out puzzles, but he didn’t really like any other type of books.

  He’d actually lost himself in this one when the buzzer over the door sounded. He glanced up, blinking myopically as Jaguar entered the shop. Jaguar, Jerome Jarvis, had been a talented, famous rockstar for many years, but recently he’d discovered he had a daughter and his mother had died. He’d come home and wound up staying. He and Tate had struck up a friendship in the time that Jaguar had been back. In fact, Tate had been helping Jaguar get his music store up and running.

  Jaguar was in his early thirties with spiky white blond hair and recently, he sported a clean-shaven face, instead of his usual scruffy beard. His arms were covered in full-sleeve tattoos and he had a number of piercings in his ears, although Tate thought there were a few less than the last time he’d seen him. Jaguar’s most remarkable feature, however, were his pale blue eyes, eyes so stunning that they drew your attention away from the artwork on his arms.

  Tate removed his glasses and put them in the book, shutting it. Jaguar swaggered up to the counter, shooting a look around. He didn’t really like Bill Stanley and the feeling was mutual. Tate smiled, glad for the distraction.

  “So, what chore do you have for me today?” he said, crossing his arms on the counter.

  Jaguar leaned a hip against the counter and rested on his elbow. He crossed his feet at the ankles. He wore a band t-shirt, jeans torn at the knees, and run-down Converse sneakers. He exuded a cool that Tate would never be able to pull off.

  “Can’t I just come in to say hi?”

  “Sure, but that’s never how it goes with you,” said Tate, chuckling.

  Jaguar gave a nod. “True, true. How are you at hanging shelves?”

  Tate shrugged. “I manage.”

  “Buy you a beer at the Bourbon Brothers afterwards?”

  “How ‘bout you buy me dinner instead?”

  Jaguar held up an empty hand. “I could do that.”

  “I have to do some repairs at the Caffeinator, but it needs to be done after Zion goes home. I can come down, help you hang your shelves, then we could grab dinner, and that should make it late enough for me to go over to the Caffeinator.”

  Jaguar gave him a disgruntled look. “How long you gonna keep this up? Why don’t you go down there right now and ask her on a date? You shouldn’t be dating me all the time.”

  Tate reared back. “Hell no. And you and I aren’t dating.”

  “Aren’t we? You have dinner with me more often than you do…” His voice trailed off.

  “Than I do what?”

  “That’s the point. You have dinner with me, no one else.”

  “I go out with Daryl too,” he protested. “We went to Corkers just the other night.”

  Jaguar drew a deep breath and released it. “Sorry. So you’re dating around.”

  Tate gave him an arch look. “It’s complicated with Zion.”

  “How’s it complicated? You like her, she doesn’t hate you.”

  “She might hate me.”

  “Well, I mean, yeah, that was a monumentally stupid thing to do. What made you think you could just go in there and kiss her in front of everyone when she was going away with another dude?”

  Tate blew out air. He’d heard this same thing over and over again. From everyone. It was getting boring.

  “You’re one to talk,” he scolded. “When are you going to ask Kallista out?”

  “She’s Sophia’s teacher. It’s not kosher right now, but I’ll get around to it.”

  “When she’s no longer Sophia’s teacher? What if she decides to date someone else?”

  Jaguar turned to face him. “You’re deflecting. Classic defensive posturing.”

  Tate stared down at the cover of his paperback. “Fine. Look, can we talk about something else?”

  Jaguar looked around the hardware store. “Where’s the kid?”

  “He called in sick today.”

  “That’s weird. He never misses a day.”

  “I know, but he just went back to school, so maybe he’s got stuff to take care of.”

  “Maybe. So, you think you can get me a spot on the Chamber of Commerce?”

  Tate burst out laughing. He could just imagine the reaction of the business people on the Chamber to Jaguar with his piercings and tattoos, but Jaguar was a legitimate business man now and his store was certain to be a boon to the economy in Sequoia. He’d never seen anyone draw a crowd the way Jaguar could.

  The buzzer sounded and Jaguar’s driver stepped inside. Hakim had driven a taxi for years until Jaguar came to town and hired him as his personal assistant/bodyguard. He lifted a hand in greeting to Tate.

  “Hey, Hakim,” Tate said.

  “We got that appointment at the bank,” Hakim told Jaguar.

  “Shit, that’s right.” Jaguar pointed an index finger at Tate. “See you around 5:00?”

  “It’s a date,” Tate quipped.

  Jaguar rolled his eyes and followed Hakim from the store.

  * * *

  Tate stood, looking out the window of the Bourbon Brothers, waiting for Zion to make her wa
y to the car. Daryl and Jaguar watched with him. Jaguar leaned against a table, his tattooed arms crossed, while Daryl had his hands fisted on his hips, his legs shoulder distance apart, a frown creasing his smooth brow.

  “How long you gonna do this?” he asked Tate.

  Tate ignored him, feeling a longing in his chest whenever he watched Zion. She wore a pair of jeans and a light jacket, her red hair flowing down her back as she hurried to the municipal parking lot. He leaned forward to keep her in sight. He didn’t like her leaving this late by herself. It was starting to get dark.

  “It’s creepy is what it is,” said Jaguar.

  “Definitely creepy,” said Daryl.

  “Shut it, both of you!” Tate said with a swipe of his hand.

  A Mercedes pulled up in front of the Bourbon Brothers and Jaguar pushed away from the table. “That’s my ride,” he said, going to the door. “Thanks for the help with the shelves.”

  “No problem,” said Tate, his gaze still fixed on the corner of the parking lot he could see from the barbecue’s window. He knew Zion’s Optima would be pulling out and heading back down the street any minute now.

  Jaguar jogged to the car and pulled open the passenger side door as the Optima came into view. When Zion honked at him, he looked up and waved at her. Tate ducked behind the door, so she couldn’t inadvertently see him spying on her.

  Daryl made a disgusted sound. “Seriously, this has gone too far. Do I got to get involved?”

  Tate gave him a horrified look as the Optima drove out of sight. “God, no. Don’t say a word to her about any of this.”

  Daryl went over and turned off the open light beside the door, pushing Tate out of the way. “You’ve got it bad, brother. It’s pathetic.”

  Tate slumped against the door, watching him and Pedro, the busboy, begin putting the chairs up on the tables to prepare for the janitor who came in the middle of the night. “Look, it’s just awkward right now.”

  “Yeah, because you’re making it awkward. Grow some cojones, man.” He gave Pedro a questioning look. “I said that right, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you said it right and I agree.”

  Tate’s eyes widened. He’d only exchanged a few words with Pedro since he started working here and he didn’t know him that well.

  “Life is short, hombre. Stop wasting it.”

  “Truth,” said Daryl.

  “That’s enough out of both of you. I’ve got plenty of cojones. I was a cop.”

  “Was being the operative word,” said Daryl. “Now you just hide in your hardware store.”

  “And what about you?” Tate said testily.

  “I’m not peeking out of a window at a girl or sneaking over to fix her toilet in the night.”

  “Shut up!” Tate said, yanking open the door and picking up his toolbox off the floor. He wasn’t really angry at Daryl. He was frustrated with himself and frustrated with the situation and frustrated that everyone around him was right and he knew it.

  He hurried down the street to the Caffeinator, peering in the glass door. Dee waved to him from behind the counter and hurried over, turning the lock and pulling it open. The bell jingled as Tate ducked inside.

  “Zion just left,” Dee said in a hushed voice.

  “I know. I saw her go.”

  Dee frowned, but he motioned to the bar doors that led to the kitchen and Zion’s office. “The doors need to be fixed first,” he said.

  Tate set about working on the hinges, while Dee continued to clean the espresso machine. When he was done, Dee led him into the bathroom and Tate began replacing the valve in the toilet. Dee leaned against the wall, watching him, his arms crossed.

  “Where you learn all this handy stuff, Tate dude?” Dee asked.

  Tate looked up, both hands deep in the reservoir. “My dad,” he said.

  “Huh, good guy, eh?”

  “No,” said Tate. “He was not a good guy. My dad was a tough old bastard who believed a man’s worth was measured in how much booze he could hold and how many women he could bed.”

  “Dude, is he dead?”

  “Naw, he’s still alive, but I don’t see him.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She’s with him. I talk to her on the phone, but that’s about it. I don’t really know why she stayed.”

  “You have any sibs?”

  “Nope. Just me.”

  “How come your mom puts up with that mess?”

  Tate glanced up from the toilet. “That’s been an issue since I was in high school, Dee. I just couldn’t understand why she put up with the abuse.”

  “He ever hit her?”

  “Not that I saw, but I honestly don’t know.”

  “Man, that’s rough.”

  Tate cleared his throat. He didn’t really want to talk about this. Not with anyone. “You know, you could learn to do some of the minor repairs around here?”

  “Naw, I don’t think so. I got that phobia, you know, about the nails?”

  Tate finished and flushed the toilet. They both leaned over and watched the tank fill. The running water noise finally shut off. Dee clapped his hands together.

  “That’s the ticket,” he said, beaming.

  Tate went to wash his hands. “Look, I know you got a phobia about nails.”

  “Don’t much like screws either.” Dee shuddered.

  “Right, but they have a good purpose too.” He dried his hands and began packing up his tools. “I mean, it’s kinda that way with everything. For instance, I don’t like guns. They’re scary, but they sure do have a purpose when you’re a cop.”

  “I don’t like guns either.”

  “Right.” Tate picked up the toolbox and they made their way out of the bathroom. “But my point is you can get over a phobia if you just try. I mean what would we do without nails and screws? Nothing would stay up and we’d still be eating dinner around a boulder…” His voice trailed away as they stepped out of the short hallway and found Zion standing in the middle of the room with her keys in hand.

  “Hey, boss,” said Dee brightly, shooting an uncomfortable look at Tate. “I thought you went home.”

  “I left my wallet in my desk and I realized I didn’t have it when I stopped to get some ice cream.” Her eyes lowered to Tate’s toolbox. “What’s going on?”

  Dee hurried over and pushed the bar door. “Look, it’s fixed.”

  “I see that.”

  “I had Tate come over to fix a few things,” said Dee, pushing the door again.

  “He asked me to help,” offered Tate.

  Zion’s gaze shifted to her barista. “We could have taken care of it ourselves.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. We didn’t have no Philips.”

  “Philips?” she asked skeptically.

  “Screwdriver,” Tate offered. “Look, he was just trying to help you out. We did it after you left, thinking it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  Zion’s green eyes shifted to Dee again. “You can go, Dee. It’s getting late.”

  “Are you mad at us? I mean, it’s not Tate’s fault. I asked him.”

  “I’m not mad, Dee. I appreciate you looking out for the store and me, but I want to talk to Tate alone for a minute.”

  Tate shot a panicked look at Dee. Dee gave him a regretful look in return. Tate wanted to spend time with Zion, but he suspected she was about to unleash her wrath on him and he wasn’t prepared for it. He was so raw and vulnerable where she was concerned.

  “Sorry, dude,” said Dee, untying his apron and shoving it under the counter. “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem,” Tate said, his gaze fixated on the red-headed woman who’d dominated his thoughts since she’d moved here.

  Dee headed toward the door, his head hanging. Zion touched his arm. “Thank you, Dee. I appreciate it.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Don’t be too harsh on him, boss. He’s a good guy inside.”

  Zion shook her head in amusement and looked over h
er shoulder, watching Dee go out the door, then she turned back to Tate.

  Tate held up a hand. “I know I shouldn’t have come in here without your permission,” he said, his eyes widening as she stalked toward him. Was she going to slap him? Well, he probably deserved it, but he didn’t have to like it. “Dee just wanted to help you. He’s a really good guy and he meant only the best.”

  Zion stopped in front of him, looking into his eyes. She was tall for a woman and didn’t have to look up too far to meet his six-foot gaze. “Shut up!” she hissed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

  Then she did the most surprising thing. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. Tate wanted to crush her against him, but he curled his hands into fists and let her kiss him, tilting his head to grant her access. The kiss was hot and salacious, especially since neither of them touched the other one.

  Then Zion broke it off, making Tate weave. He took a step back.

  “Yeah, it’s still there,” she said, touching her lips.

  Tate blinked, the passion of their kiss fogging his brain. “What? What’s still there?”

  “The something between us.”

  “Oh,” he said, then he frowned. “What?”

  “Look, Tate, you shouldn’t have kissed me a few months ago.”

  “I know.”

  “I was supposed to go away with David and even though I wasn’t sure the relationship was going anywhere, I needed to make that decision by myself, but you took that out of my hands. I had to tell David what happened and I had to end the relationship.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  No, he wasn’t, but he was sort of confused.

  “I was so angry with you.”

  He nodded in agreement. She hadn’t really talked to him in months, so he’d kind of figured that out himself.

  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the attraction.”

  “Yeah?” he said, a stupid grin crossing his face.

  “That doesn’t mean I’ve totally forgiven you.”

  His face fell. “Zion, I’m not gonna lie, my head’s spinning a little. If you haven’t forgiven me, why’d you kiss me?”

  “To see if the spark was still there and because my mother’s painting nudes now.”