Free Midnight Sons Volume 3 by Debbie Macomber Page A

certainly hadn’t taken Mariah long to leave her mark on the café.
    She was busy making coffee, and apparently didn’t hear him come in.
    “Did you want coffee?” she called to Ralph over her shoulder.
    “Please,” Ralph called back.
    Mariah turned with a full pot in her hand—and saw Christian sitting at the counter. She gave a start, and the glass carafe slipped from her fingers. It shattered, and hot coffee splashed across the polished floor.
    “Oh, no!” Luckily Mariah had jumped back in time to avoid getting burned.
    It took a determined effort on Christian’s part not to call attention to the accident. He merely shook his head. Poor Ben. He didn’t have a clue what he was letting himself in for when he’d hired Mariah.
    “What happened?” Ben stuck his head out from the kitchen.
    “I—I broke the coffeepot.”
    Christian waited for the cook to start bellowing. Ben wasn’t known for his patience, and if ever a woman was born to try men’s souls, it was Mariah Douglas.
    He’d give Ben a week; then he’d be begging Christian and Sawyer to take her off his hands.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, reaching for the mop. “I’ve got plenty of pots. You weren’t burned, were you?”
    “No. I’m fine.” Her eyes flew to Christian, narrowing as if she blamed him for the accident. He hadn’t done a thing, yet everyone in Hard Luck was ready to go for his jugular.
    “Your coffee’ll be just a minute,” Mariah told Ralph.
    “No problem,” the bush pilot assured her. He unfolded the Fairbanks newspaper and disappeared behind it.
    “I’ll take a cup when you get around to it,” Christian said, righting the ceramic mug in front of him. He might be risking his life asking her to pour it for him, but it was a risk he’d have to take.
    Mariah refilled another glass pot from the large percolator. He noted that her hand shook slightly as she filled his mug. “When did you get back?” she asked conversationally. Christian wasn’t fooled; she’d been the one to arrange his itinerary. She knew his travel schedule as well as he did.
    “This afternoon.”
    Mariah pulled an order pad from her apron pocket. “What can I get you?”
    “I’ll have a piece of apple pie.”
    Mariah called back the order to Ben, who appeared a couple of minutes later with a large slice of pie. He set it in front of Christian and eyed him warily, as if anticipating a confrontation.
    Christian figured he didn’t need to say a word. Within a week, when Ben was out of coffeepots and patience, he’d recognize that Mariah was never cut out to be a waitress.
    “How’s it going?” Christian asked Ben, tipping his head toward Mariah, who was busy serving Ralph his lunch. He’d apparently ordered the day’s special—meatloaf sandwich, with a bowl of beef-and-barley soup.
    “With Mariah?” Ben grinned. “Great. Just great.” He gestured toward the tables. “Have you ever seen my place look better? Mariah’s responsible for all the fancy touches. I don’t know why I delayed hiring someone for so long. She’s the best thing that’s happened to the café since I got in the soft-ice-cream machine.”
    Christian took a bite of the pie and raised his eyebrows. “Hey, this is great! What’s different?”
    “Mariah baked it.”
    “Mariah?” Ben could’ve knocked him over with a flick of his finger.
    “It’s her grandmother’s recipe. Best apple pie I’ve ever tasted. As far as I’m concerned, she can do all the baking around here, she’s that good.”
    Christian was confused, to put it mildly. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Mariah?”
    Ben chuckled. “I’m sure.” The cook drifted back to the kitchen, but Christian wasn’t alone for long. Mariah hurried to bring him the small canister of cream.
    “I—I forgot you like your coffee with cream, don’t you?”
    Christian didn’t bother to correct her. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.
    She hesitated. “The dinner crowd will start