No one said anything about her working here.
And judging by the way my pulse kicks and my stomach does a weird, traitorous flip, because maybe I’m not as prepared to fake this in public, as I thought I was.
“I… uh… you work here?”
Jaylynn shrugs like this is totally normal. “Tess called in sick. I told them I’d cover the morning rush.”
Of course, she did. Because she’s sweet and likes to help people out. Look what she’s doing for me.
She flashes Elaine a warm smile. “Nice to see you again. Want your usual seat?”
“Of course.”
Jaylynn leads us to the booth in the far corner, and my stomach tightens as we pass Dylan’s table. Because naturally, he’s here too—like a zit on prom night, just showing up when no one asked.
He leans back in his chair, smirk already locked and loaded. “Santa still standing out there? Or did you take him down too?”
Elaine cuts him a sharp look. “You mind your manners, young man. Or I’ll call your mother.”
He snorts, tries to make a llama sound, but it comes out like a goose being strangled mid-honk.
Do not hit him. Do not hit him. Do. Not. Hit. Him.
I’m repeating the mantra in my head like it’s a damn spell, until I glance at Jaylynn. She’s watching me with this mischievous glint in her eyes—like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“You don’t have to serve him, do you?” I ask under my breath.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she says, rising up on her toes so her voice lands just for me. “But don’t worry… I do things to his coffee.”
I blink at her. “Jesus. Really?”
She whistles innocently, spinning a placemat into place like she’s not low-key admitting to caffeine-related vengeance.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” I murmur.
Elaine points a stern finger in my direction. “Language, Penn.”
“Right. Sorry, Elaine.”
“I’ll grab you both a coffee,” Jaylynn says with a wink, already heading for the counter. “Just made a fresh pot.”
I watch her go—too long, probably—then glance down at the menu as Elaine throws dagger eyes toward Dylan’s table.
“Ignore him,” I whisper.
Elaine snorts. “How that guy ever became mayor… If he ever takes over the position in Snowberry, I’m out of here.”
“You could always come to Boston with me,” I say lightly, testing the waters. “I think you’d love it there. We could get a house.”
She shrugs, noncommittal—but then pivots, sly. “Now, what’s this I hear about you punching Santa?” I groan. She pounds one tiny fist into her palm like she’s ready to throw down herself. “I bet he deserved it.”
“He did,” I admit, then sigh. “But I can’t go around hitting people, Elaine.”
“You can if they deserve it.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“I’m your aunt. I raised you. If I say it’s okay, it’s okay.”