He lifts his head, catching me staring, and winks at me. I can’t tell if the flush of my skin is from being turned on or being caught ogling.
“Speaking of good friends, one just walked in. I’ll call you later, yeah? Right. I love you too, Ma. Kiss Gran for me. Ta.”
Teagan pushes off the bar and pads toward me on bare feet, a predatory grin spreading across his handsome face. He stops a few inches away and looks down at me. I’m average height for a woman, but he’s certainly taller than the average man.
“Sorry about that. My Ma. She’s been calling me almost weekly, which is unusual.”
“It’s fine,” I squeak out, then clear my throat. “I think it’s sweet. And relatable. I hear from mine just as much.”
“Aye, then you understand why I’m running behind this morning. Mams and their incessant chatter.” He laughs, but it’s obvious how much he loves his mother, and I admire him all the more for it.
“Yes, definitely. Though mine takes at least ten minutes to just say goodbye. And that’s just on the phone. In person, I have to start saying my goodbyes an hour before I’m supposed to leave.”
He chuckles as he turns back towards the kitchen. “I’ll finish getting ready. Make yourself at home. You want coffee or something?”
“I was going to treat you to coffee from my favorite spot, but I can pre-game it,” I say, trailing behind him and trying my hardest to stop staring at his ass.
“I’m more of a tea guy, but if it’s your favorite, I’d better try it.”
I climb onto a stool at the breakfast bar and watch him saunter down the hallway before he steps into one of the rooms. I’m completely transfixed watching the muscles of his back shift. When he comes back out, he’s pulling a navy blue Henley over his head, his pants are fastened, the hat is gone, and his shoes are on. As sad as I am to lose the view of his uncovered body, I can’t deny that he looks just as delicious dressed.
“Well you’re in luck. They have a pretty great tea selection,” I inform him, propping my elbows on the bar.
“Yeah?” he asks, walking in my direction. “I’m not too picky, but you’ve piqued my interest. Back home it’s just plain ol’ black tea.”
“Cream and sugar? Or do you take yours plain?”
He passes behind me, then leans in to whisper against the shell of my ear, “Just sugar. I like it dark and sweet.”
A jolt of lust shoots straight to my core, making me squeeze my thighs together and squirm in my seat. Teagan and his food innuendos might just be the death of me.
“Alright,” he says, interrupting my dirty thoughts, “I’m ready if you are.”
He’s standing on the opposite side of the bar, arms crossed over his chest, and grinning at me like a Cheshire Cat.
Jodón.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Teagan jogs to the door and opens it, gesturing me through with an exaggerated bow. “After you, Lovely.”
I roll my eyes at him but can’t stop the smile that creeps over my face.
* * *
We stop at El Cafecito for the coffee and tea I promised. I found the small Mexican cafe after I joined the Hispanic Cultural Center at UNCW and they gave us a list of all the Hispanic-owned businesses and restaurants in the surrounding area. I’ve visited several, but El Cafecito is my favorite. They have the bestorejas, and their coffee is spiced with the perfect amount of cinnamon.
When we enter the cafe, Esmerelda, the owner, is rolling out dough on a large workspace. She’s probably in her mid-seventies but doesn’t look it. Her daughter, Maria, is busy filling the pastry case along the adjacent wall. She looks up and smiles.
“Buenos días, Layla,” she greets us. “¿Cómo estás?”
“Buenos días, Maria. Estoybien, ¿y usted?”
“Bien! Who is your friend?” she asks, winking at me in a not-so-subtle way.
Naturally, I blush, while Teagan chuckles and extends a hand to her.
“Teagan O’Brien. Pleasure to meet you,” he says amicably.
