Frost

Further Education

Jack Frost wasn’t a morning person.

Mari had to all but beg, bribe with coffee, and literally shove him out the door to the truck so she wouldn’t be late to work. He gripped the sides of his parka tighter, the collar of his flannel shirt flipped up on the one side, and a white bandana kerchief-style on his head. She’d received a glare cold enough to freeze hell when she suggested cutting his hair, and promptly dropped the subject.

They didn’t speak all the way to town – Mari didn’t know what to say to make small talk and Jack was fighting not to nod off against the window. Country music was on the background, the volume low. Jack’s head thunked against the window. Mari reached across the space between them and slugged him on the arm, dodging the slap he intended in retaliation to put both hands back on the wheel.

She dropped him off in roughly the same place she’d parked the day before. It was only two hour parking, and the bookstore she worked at was further down near the small, free community lot where she didn’t have to worry about getting a ticket from the sheriff’s patrol.

He tipped himself out of the truck, staggering on the snowy sidewalk and using the door for balance. Eyeing the fat falling flakes with disdain, he grunted a response when she told him to have a nice day. He slammed the door shut on her smile.

Mari rolled down the window and added, “Look both ways, Jack!”

His response was a very human gesture he’d learned incredibly quickly involving only one finger. She snorted and went on her way to work; Jack dutifully checked both directions for oncoming traffic and hoofed it across the street.

The place was empty except for a middle-aged woman tapping furiously on a laptop in an armchair in the corner and the young man in the back behind the counter. He had a round face, as though he hadn’t lost his baby face upon entering puberty, and there was enough scruff on his face to make Jack wonder if he knew what a razor was.

Even he knew what a razor was and what it was used for even if he’d never done it.

“You must be Jack,” the man said as Jack ambled toward him. “I’m Drew.”

They did the handshake thing again; Jack wiped his hands on his apron and shucked his parka. It went on a hook in the back room next to Drew’s Carhart jacket. He went back out and behind the counter, hands resting behind his back as Drew showed him how to operate the espresso machine and milk steamer.

“I’m a vanilla kind of guy,” he said, demonstrating how many pumps of syrup went into a medium-sized drink. “Then it’s the two shots of espresso, followed by the milk. Use the spoon and keep the foam from going in, too, until last. Then it’s a dollop. Sometimes people want drizzle, too.” He made a cross-hatching of caramel overtop of his drink. “And that’s it. Then you just say the name on the side of the cup, if we’re really busy, and leave it here.” Putting a lid on the cup, he set it on the bare shelf at the far end of the counter from the cash register. “That’s about it.”

“Wonderful,” Jack said dryly.

Drew grinned. “You wanna make something? You look like a guy who needs a lot of caffeine in the morning.”

“That would be correct.” Using precise, calculated motions, Jack made himself a peppermint mocha – he’d enjoyed the one Mari had bought for him after she’d gotten him the job – and he wrapped his palms gratefully around the paper cup to soak up the warmth.

“You don’t look like you like winter,” Drew said, hazel eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“I used to,” Jack said, watching the snow continue to fall through the big windows lining the front of the store. “Now I don’t.” He’d landed on his ass the first time he’d tried to go from the house to the truck and it still smarted. Not mention had turned a fetching shade of purple.