At first, Gia could find absolutely nothing about Jupiter Valentine to complain over. The guy needed no training whatsoever on operating and cleaning the machinery. He didn't take issue with washing dishes, sweeping floors, or stocking shelves. And he was far more skilled than she or Ricardo or any of the other staff was when making the specialty drinks. Her eyes widened in awe when he made his first latte of the day in one of their signature wide-mouthed mugs used for dine-in customers. With a few practiced moves, he swirled the steamed milk into the espresso base of the drink, sweeping the pitcher back and forth over the tilted lip of the mug in his hand. Using a stir stick, he added a few extra dots of foam to the design, forming a delicate vine and rose pattern.
"Where did you learn to do that?" Gia asked, embarrassed at the simplicity of her signature double-heart pattern she always made for customers.
It really wasn't such a surprise when Jupiter casually mentioned that he'd placed in several latte art competitions over the past few years. Gia knew they took place around the globe, but before today, she'd never minded that her hearts were super basic.
They sold a record number of foam-topped drinks once word got out that Jupiter was skilled in latte art, especially when he refused to do them in to-go cups. He handled customers like he was personally interested in the minutiae of their days, and there wasn't an order he didn't serve with a smile and his catch phrase, "From my heart to yours."
During the noon hour, the place was packed. Actually, the sandwich line didn't seem significantly busier than usual, but the number of people waiting in line to order coffee was out the door... and predominantly women. Giggling, primping, chattering women of a surprisingly wide range of ages.
"Seriously?" she muttered when she finally made the connection after watching one starry-eyed female patron after another coo her drink of choice at Jupiter.
As they took their turns at the coffee counter, many of the regulars who ordered the same thing every day were suddenly asking for suggestions and trying fancy new drinks. When Darby Hardgrave ordered a "ginormous caramel macchiato with two pumps of coconut creme and one pump of vanilla" and asked if Jupiter could sketch his own face in the foam—he made a peacock instead, which Gia thought apropos—Gia had to step outside to get a breath of fresh, perfume-free air. Clearly, he could handle his fangirls without her help.
She hadn't been outside more than sixty seconds before the door opened and one of the other employees, Belinda, poked her head through. "Hey, Gia. Jupiter wants to know if you can trade out his tip jar again. It's spilling over." And of course, Belinda's eyes had that same dreamy look in them, too. Her next words confirmed it as she simpered, "He's amazing, isn't he?"
Gia drew in a deep breath and pushed past Belinda back into the melee. She plastered the wide smile on her face and stepped up beside Jupiter at the espresso machine where he had four drinks in different stages of production. "How you doing, Mr. Valentine?" She'd wanted to call him Mr. Hallmark, but she refrained, keeping her voice light.
"Fantastico!" he exclaimed, swirling the foam on yet another drink before sliding it across the pick-up bar to the woman waiting with her hand over her heart. She then made a show of handing him a five-dollar bill.
"Because your tip jar is too full," she murmured, looking like she'd rather tuck the fiver into the waistband of his pants. Gia eyed her sardonically. The woman was old enough to have birthed Jupiter's mother.
The tables were filled inside and out, but folks were still ordering dine-in drinks even though it was standing room only. Carter manned the register taking the drink orders for Jupiter, and after replacing the tip jar on the pick-up counter, Gia glanced over at the one in front of Carter's register. It wasn't bursting at the seams, but it needed to be traded out, too. She didn't remember the last time Carter had garnered that many tips in so short a time. "How's your drawer?" she asked as she leaned around him to scoop up a couple of quarters that hadn't made it into the jar.
"Pretty full. It's been a crazy lunch break, that's for sure. Thanks to the new guy." She couldn't quite tell if he was actually grateful or if he was being sarcastic.
"Need a break?" she asked, hoping he was paying attention to his receipts and change.
"No way, Gia," he whispered from the corner of his mouth. There was a momentary pause as the next person in line fumbled in her purse, not realizing she was up. "You seeing those tips?"
Someone cleared her throat and the purse lady lurched forward. "Oh! Hi," she said to Carter and Gia, but her eyes kept darting over to Jupiter who shot her the same half-smile and bedroom eyes he'd aimed at Gia in the break room when Ricardo introduced them.
Gia pressed her lips together to hold in her disgust—one of Phoebe's favorite French exclamations danced on the tip of her tongue—and finally said, "Let me know when you're ready for me to change it out."
Carter nodded. "Yeah, probably soon. I'll holler."
With the two tip jars in hand and relief in her heart because she had an excuse to flee the scene, she headed back to Ricardo's office where she would add the cash to the till to divvy up among the crew at the end of each shift. It was how they did it at Ricardo's. When one crew member did well, they all did well.
She returned to the front and kept busy wiping down counters, washing out pitchers and carafes, stocking supplies, and replenishing the pastries and sandwich display, letting the rest of the team interact with the customers. But when the lunch rush had wound down considerably, Gia headed back to Ricardo's office to balance the register drawers with her boss.
They were comparing the last of their figures when Jupiter poked his head into the office. "I must leave soon," he announced, his eyes moving from his uncle to rest on Gia. "My class begins at 3 o'clock."
"Yes!" Ricardo said, waving his nephew inside the cramped room. "Of course. How was your first morning?"
"It went very well, Uncle," Jupiter said, remaining in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame. He no longer wore his apron; it was draped over his shoulder, hooked on the finger of one hand. "Your patrons are easy to make happy."
Gia snorted, the sound slipping out before she could stop it. When both men looked quizzically at her, she shrugged and quipped, "I noticed."
Jupiter grinned, slowly, knowingly. "You have many ladies who drink coffee in this city, yes?"
"Apparently, we do now," Gia replied, then turned back to Ricardo. "Are we finished here?" she asked.
"Yes, yes. Why don't you show Jupiter where to throw his dirty apron while I do a few last minute things before I head out for the afternoon, okay?" He darted a look past her to Jupiter. "I will meet you out back."
Gia pursed her lips and pushed to her feet. "Follow me," she clipped out as she brushed past Jupiter and out into the little hallway. They walked the short distance to the bathroom that doubled as a laundry room, and she stood back to let him into the room ahead of her. She caught a whiff of whatever cologne he wore as he slipped past her, a crisp citrus and pine scent that made her nose twitch in response. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not—it certainly didn't make her close her eyes and breathe in the way Ricky's did—but she realized she already recognized it as his, having smelled it hovering in the air of the break room first thing in the morning, then again in her car when he'd climbed in next to her, and over the past several hours of working together.
She stayed in the doorway and pointed out the hamper for soiled aprons and towels, but didn't bother giving him lessons on how to operate the machines. "The night crew runs the washer, and then puts them in the dryer. The early morning crew empties the dryer and puts things away. Since you're only working the day shift, you're off the hook."
"But if I substitute for someone during one of those shifts, then it might be good if I learn how to use the machines?" He grinned impishly at her. "Or perhaps I might spill coffee on my colleague's skirt and she needs me to wash it for her?"
Gia warred with herself momentarily, still not sure how she felt about this guy, but he really was quite charming. She shot him a teasing look and said, "Ha. Don't even think, for one moment, that you can get me out of my clothes that easily." Goodness. Where had that come from? She sounded like she was channeling Phoebe.
Jupiter shrugged. "Ah well. It was worth trying, yes?"
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she felt the smile still tugging the corners of her mouth up.
"Tell me one thing, at least, Boss Lady," Jupiter said as he followed her across the hall to the break room.
Gia quirked a brow at him. "Boss Lady? You know, I kinda like the sound of that." Okay. She was officially flirting now. Ricky's endearing face flashed across her thoughts, but it wasn't that kind of flirting. Jupiter was just a really yummy guy who clearly knew his way around the ladies, and hey, she was a lady, after all. And just because Jupiter was confident and sure of himself, that didn't make him a threat. Besides, it wasn't like Ricky had made any moves.
Jupiter had his back to her as he gathered up his things from one of the staff lockers. She watched him move, taking in details quickly before he turned around. His shoulders weren't broad like Ricky's, but he definitely had the whole V-shape thing going on under his pale gray oxford that still looked crisp and fresh after his busy morning. His slim-cut black pants skimmed over his narrow hips and perfectly proportioned legs. They weren't obscenely tight, but he certainly wasn't trying to hide his physique, either. He wore soft-soled black ankle boots she assumed were Italian, and not just because Jupiter was Italian. No, the shoes had that hand-tooled, soft leather look with the slightly elongated toe that combined style and comfort so effortlessly. She didn't quite bite back a tiny sigh as he bent over to pick up a small, leather-bound notebook he'd dropped; the guy even dressed perfectly.
He turned and caught her looking at his backside, but she raised her chin defiantly. He grinned, a knowing glint in his eyes. "How did I do on my first day?" he asked, as he slid his arms into his fitted corduroy blazer the color of roasted red peppers. "Boss Lady," he added.
Two could play this game. She refused to be intimidated by Jupiter's smooth charm. She squared her shoulders a little and straightened her spine so she stood almost as tall as he did, and could look him directly in the eye. "Well, other than the fact that you pretty much put the rest of us to shame with your mad skills, I suppose you did all right." She paused dramatically, a look of deep consideration on her face. "Fine. I guess you can come back tomorrow."
Jupiter crossed the tiny room and took her hand, placing a gallant kiss on the back of it. "You will not regret it; I will see to that." Then he lifted that ridiculous—but entirely too effective—heavy-lidded gaze to her face. "And when you arrive here in the morning, I will be waiting for you with the finest cup of coffee you have ever experienced. In your own mug, Mrs. Cullen."
"Ah. Charming and clever," she said, but pulled her hand free of his, hoping he couldn't read the conflict behind her smile.
She was not this person, this saucy, flirting girl. Sure, she'd seen Phoebe work a room enough times to know the drill, but Gia was the sweet Gustafson girl, the innocent one. The sister who smiled and made life easier and more comfortable for everyone else.
"I know how important it is to take care of the Boss Lady," he said, lifting a shoulder in a casual gesture. "Please. Walk with me outside." He lifted a hand to indicate she go ahead of him down the short hallway to the rear exit. "Ricardo will pick me up in the back parking lot."
The hallway seemed too narrow for both of them, and their shoulders bumped, sending pleasant waves of sensation through her. It was unsettling how much she found herself responding to even the most casual contact between them.
Jupiter placed a hand on her back, pushed open the employee door ahead of them, and ushered her through, then stood beside her on the small stoop while they waited for his ride. His hand—thankfully—fell away after a few moments, and she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warmth of the midday California sunshine, partly because it was quite lovely, but also because she needed to get a grip. She could feel him beside her, his shoulder just barely brushing hers as she swayed the tiniest bit.
"Gia, I truly am sorry to have disrupted your day." His voice had lost its teasing quality and she turned to look at him. He still smiled, but she could see that he was serious, and when he reached up and tucked a wild copper curl behind her ear, his fingertips skimming her cheekbone, the curve of her ear, she didn't pull away. "I only wish to help my uncle for allowing me to stay with him while I attend my courses. He is very generous and offers me his home without accepting payment, but I insisted on working for him in exchange. I learned from my father that a man loses his dignity when he does not have to work for the good things in his life." Jupiter turned to watch as his uncle, who had apparently gone out the front door of the shop, hurried across the overflow parking lot to his car. "My uncle Ricardo is the same. He understands the value of hard work."
"He's a good boss, your uncle," Gia agreed, turning to glance at the man before cocking her head at Jupiter again. "How old are you, if you don't mind telling me," Gia asked, her arms now crossed over her chest. She marveled at how confident Jupiter sounded, how sure of himself he was, how sure of what he wanted. Something inside her ached a little, and she found herself longing for the same sense of purpose he had. Maybe he was older than she'd first thought and had struggled early on, too. She shifted a little, swiping at the back of her knee. Something—a bug, maybe?—kept flitting against her legs.
"I do not mind, Boss Lady." He watched her swat at whatever was bothering her again. Without warning, he reached up and took her by the shoulders, turning her around so her back was to him. "Your tie is in a knot so one string is hanging long. Let me help you." Jupiter's hands moved confidently against her back—the guy did everything with confidence, it seemed. "I am twenty-two years old. I am almost finished with my culinary program in Firenze—eh, Florence," he corrected himself.
Twenty-two. No wonder he was so sure of himself. He had several years on her and he knew exactly what he was doing with his life. "I am here to take a class in American cuisine." It took some effort and a little elbow grease, but Gia's apron finally loosened and then tightened snug around her waist again. She felt every bump of his knuckles against her spine as Jupiter looped the apron strings into a new bow.
"There's such a thing as American cuisine?" Gia teased in an attempt to dispel her hypersensitive awareness of him. "I figured people from other countries just brought their own recipes with them when they moved here." Jupiter's hands settled at her waist, his palms cupped around the tops of her hip bones, and for a moment, her breath caught, wondering what he was doing. "Or are you here to learn to make hamburgers and fries and apple pies?" she asked, playing nonchalant. She darted a glance over her shoulder at him, but looked forward again quickly, the expression on his face unreadable. "You done back there?"
Jupiter made some kind of adjustment to the way the apron sat, tugging the fabric gently so that she swayed side-to-side enough to make the hem of her skirt swish against her legs. Then he stepped back, his fingertips brushing over the curve of her hips as he did so. She put another step between them and turned around again.
"It is true, to some degree. American cuisine is a melting pot of many different people and cultures." He spoke casually, evidently completely unruffled by the moment that had just passed between them. "But you have your own way of preparing dishes, and there is much diversity from one state to another, just like in any country. Where I come from, there are many ways to cook the same dish, depending on what region of Italy. Sometimes it is as little as one ingredient changed, but a knowledgeable diner will be able to tell the difference. I think it is the same here in America, is it not?"
She gave thought to his words and nodded slowly. Between the Gustafson family's heavy Swedish influences, the French meals Phoebe sometimes prepared in honor of their mother, Juliette's obsession with Mr. Yu's Green Dragon Chinese food, and the myriad of meals Renata cooked for her burgeoning household, Gia had definitely experienced the "Americanization" of international foods. She thought of Ricky and his pot roast, potatoes, and apple pie upbringing; he hadn't even heard of salmon and potato casserole before eating Granny G's homemade Swedish staple, something they ate in the Gustafson home on a regular basis.
Before she could respond to Jupiter, a movement in the lot behind him caught her eye, and she watched as Ricky emerged from his car and started toward them.
She lifted a hand in a surprised greeting, but a prickling sensation of wariness skittered up her spine as she took in the grim expression on his face.