So sophisticated.
I smiled back and was just about to say God knows what, before the barista abruptly called out, “What can I get started for you?”
I turned back on my heel. “Ah, largecensoredhot brew—please.”
Scott’s lip curved and he glanced at his shoes.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said without barely a glance in his direction.
He slipped in front of me in line, and now faced the cashier, handing her a clear plastic card. I realized that he was paying for both our orders.
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t even hear you order.”
“I didn’t. They know my usual.”
Usual? Oh no, does he work around here?
“So what did I just order?” I asked. For some reason, I felt like I needed to keep words pouring out of me as though if I didn’t, he might see through my…well, whatever the hell it was I was hiding. I wasn’t sure anymore.
God he’s gorgeous.
“Exactly what you wanted,” he replied casually with a small shrug. He picked up my drink at the counter. “You take sugar?”
Definitely. But all I could manage was a meek nod. “How did you...”
He handed me the drink with a grin and cleared his throat. “Your strong, hot and foamy, madam.”
I stared at him as chills ran down my spine. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Not that it was so terrible, but what else could I have subconsciously said out loud?
Saying my thoughts out loud was an unfortunate lifelong habit and got me in trouble one too many times.
Again, Scott grinned at me. In that ‘knows he’s sexy as all hell’ kind of grin. And I bit the inside of my bottom lip. “It’s a strong roast covered with foamed steamed milk. Hence the ‘censored’.”
I licked my lips because well, that sounded heavenly, and nodded, appreciating the sensual creativity of the name.
“So you work around here?” I asked, and then immediately regretted it, since all that would do is prompt him to ask me the same.
“No.”
Strange. How does someone get to be served their ‘usual’ when they didn’t work nearby?“Oh. You live here.” It came out almost matter-of-factly.
He chuckled this time. “No, I know the owner.What about you?” He gazed at me, admiringly.
Dammit.
I bit my lip and moved aside from another customer who was trying to push past me.
“Here, do you have a few minutes? Let’s sit.” He motioned to an empty small round high-top table, and we took the two seats across each other. I was quiet and maybe even a bit fidgety as he studied me and held up my cup as if it were enough to hide me. This wasn’t like me. I never weakened at scrutiny.
Maybe he would forget he asked and we’d move on to something else?I took a slow sip from the steaming cup, knowing he was waiting for an answer.
Let’s see.
Well, I was running late this morning because of the detour you made me take last night in the middle of my first event on the job. So I snuck out to grab a decent cup of well-deserved expensive coffee. I am the newest and least respected employee at the firm across the street that served the hors d’oeurves you had yesterday at exactly 7:15 p.m., because that’s the time they were scheduled to be served!
“I’m actually just on this side of town checking on a client.” I took a sip and smiled politely.
Umm…vague much?
