“You’re pretty popular,” I note as I pull a double shot for Mrs. Fernbridge.
“Thanks. And you make a damn good cup of joe.” He hip-checks me and grabs Mrs. Fernbridge’s soy chorizo taco.
“I’m just saying… I definitely can see you pairing with local food vendors and opening this up to the lunch crowd.”
Poe sends me a wide, bright smile that feels like warm electricity zipping around in my chest. I’ve never experienced anything close to the connection I feel with him. As much as I thought I loved my ex-girlfriend, those sentiments had nothing on the chemistry and emotions I’m experiencing now.
I finally see why people more or less immediately fall in love when they meet their mate. It’s almost impossible not to. I’m nowhere near ready to say those three little words, but I don’t imagine I’ll be able to stop where this is going.
After finally giving in to it, I don’t want to.
Moving to Texas after my breakup felt, at the time, like an insane, desperate move. But now I’m starting to wonder if I was always meant to be here. Just this last twenty-four hours has put everything about my ex and her shenanigans into perspective.
Speaking of the devil, her new nickname shows up in my text notifications.
X:Did you actually move to Texas?
Me:Yes.
X:That’s all you’re going to say to me?
Me:Yes.
The three little dots bounce while she no doubt comes up with some scathing bit of commentary, but I’m already just… over it. Over this conversation, over feeling like I’d somehow fucked up, over everything. I click on her info and block her before the message comes through.
“Is something wrong?” Poe asks, nudging past me.
I shake my head. “My ex is texting me, asking me why I moved to Texas.”
He puts his hand on his hip. “To get away from you, jackass,” he says, imitating my deeper voice.
“Damn skippy.” I palm the back of his head,bringing him in for a quick-ish kiss. “Anyway, I blocked her.”
Poe does a terrible job of hiding his brilliant smile behind his hand, but his bewitching eyes spark with amusement and possession.
“You are not subtle,” I say, throwing him major brow as I hand Mr. Henderson his Americano.
Poe tilts his head side to side, all adorable and birdlike, and sweeps out a hand to gesture over the space. “Yeah, I don’t do subtle.”
“True.” I gather him close. “But you’re also not gaudy.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no need to be gaudy. I like to find things that catch the light and set them out like little jewels. Let nature be gaudy,” he says, half shifting to show off the shimmering black ruff on his neck.
Mr. Henderson hurries out of the shop, leaving me alone with my beautiful raven.
Pulling him in tight, I whisper in his ear, “You are so fucking beautiful. It makes me wanna take you in the back and do all sorts of things to you.”
Poe looks around, grabs my hand, and starts heading toward the beaded entryway. “We don’t have time for all sorts of things, but maybe a quick hand job and make-out session?”
I yip in agreement and follow him to the back.
6
POE
Over the next two weeks, Thorin and I get into a rhythm. We wake early in his bed, make each other come two or three times, then head to the coffee shop. He helps me through the initial rush, then works from his laptop through the morning until I close.
We then go back to his house, rub up against each other two or three more times, then he finishes out his afternoon of work while I manage the numbers and social media aspect of the shop.
