Page 25 of Himbo Hitman
I’d applied for this job during my pitiful resume blast and assumed, since I didn’t hear back, that they weren’t interested. Then, the day after botching the St. Clare job, they called me for an interview, and I went straight into training. It’s like it was supposed to be.
Sure, I’m only a street away from the Saint Clare nightclub, so in hindsight, it’s lucky I sent the guy into hiding.
Now, I get to spend my day surrounded by the smell of caffeine, the buzz of customers, and get a real boost from all the talking I’m literally paid to do.
These guys arepayingme. Totalkto people.
Plus, I get all the free coffee I want. I think. No one has told me otherwise, and I’ve downed at least three of these babies this morning.
“Welcome to Toasty Roast,” I say, turning to the next in line. “What can I get?—”
My throat swallows the words as St. Clare gives me an impersonal smile. A stiff, impersonal smile. The kind of smile that says,sorry I broke our pinky swear, but I’ve found you, and now I’ll be the one to shoot you in the head, thanks.
But the word he says doesn’t match the ones in my head. “Cappuccino.”
I blink at him for a second. “W-what?”
Concern crosses his face. “I’ll have a cappuccino, thank you.”
“Like … the coffee?” I clarify, trying to decipher whether this is code for something I don’t know. Like … shit. Umm. Maybe I’m gonna cap-a-ccin-hole in your head? I shake the thought away because that’s a reach even for me.
He glances over at where a huge guy is sitting at a table behindthe big coffee machine, then back at me. One corner of his lips trembles upward. “That is what you sell here, correct?”
“But what about—” Thankfully, I cut off before the wordspinky swearcan leave me. My brain is still chugging along at a sluggish pace, but somehow, I fill in the blank. “Sugar?”
St. Clare shakes his head, and I clock the small bandage over his ear. “No, thank you.”
I’m waiting for any sign of recognition but it doesn’t come.
“Right. Ah.” I’m numb as I ring him up and stutter out the price. He hands over cash and I take it and he pays and I give him change and then we’re looking at each other and I’m lost as to what happens next.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, gaze flicking down to where I’m still holding on to the five-dollar bill.
I wrench my hand away. “I’ll call when it’s done.”
I serve the next person, then get to work on the two orders. Part of me wants to duck down and army crawl my ass out of here. Sure, no one will be there to stop the cafe being ransacked, but the alternative is handing over a drink to the guy I almost killed and wishing him a good day.
Any day he’s not up for murder probably is a good day, to be fair, but it’s not like I can say that either. In fact, it’s better that I don’t say anything. Just hand over the drink with a grunt and go back to the next order.
I can do that.
I mean, I don’t have to talk toeveryone.
My palms are clammy as I finish up his coffee and walk it to the pickup counter. “St. Clare?” I call, and it’s only once the words are out of my mouth that I realize I didn’t ask him for his name.
Fuck. Like, I’m sure he didn’t recognize me—thank you, skeleton mask—but do I want to give him any more fucking clues so he can put it together?
I really can’t be blamed for being so unsettled though. I’ve got the caffeine jitters, I’m on a high from making so many people happy this morning, and then his shockingly proportionate face shows up out of the blue, barely a foot away, whenthat shockingly proportionate face issupposed to bestaying hidden.
I keep my gaze pinned to the coffee, knowing it’ll be easier to just shove it at him and run away.
He gets to the counter, and my pulse is out of fucking control. “Thanks.”
“No good—allgood.” Shit, I’m fucking sweating. “Have a dood gay.”
The mortification of those words makes me look up on instinct, wanting to know if he caught the fumble, and judging by the huge smirk on his face, he definitely, definitely did.
His blue eyes are waiting for mine to catch them, and the heat rushing my neck is filling me with the urge to say more that’s so overwhelmingly powerful it’s a struggle to keep shutting up.
